Hot Chocolate: Childhood

"Sherlock, c'mon out! It's snowing!"

With a grumbled reply, the curly-haired six-year old put on his best sneer. He stared down at his black snow boots, the ones that made him feel like a pirate. Right now though, the skulls seemed to be laughing back up at him…

…Or he could have been mistaken. It was more likely the laughs of his friend as the blonde boy frolicked in this wet, sticky substance Sherlock disdained. It was too cold, it caused his nose to run and that – it – was annoying beyond measure.

John, on the other hand, absolutely loved the stuff. The cold was invigorating; it made his blood heat and made him feel vitally aware. It was brilliant. He ran onto the whitening sidewalk, yelling to his friend as he went.

Looking back, John only had time to see Sherlock's face turn panicked before he felt his foot slip and his head collide with the concrete.

Later they sat huddled together on John's sofa, sharing a large soft blanket Mrs. Watson had put around them. Sherlock was talking his ear off about the dangers of hypothermia – with someone so uninterested in snow, he had an immense knowledge – when John's mother came in with his favorite: hot chocolate. He had told her to give Sherlock marshmallows, but none for him.

Sherlock's eyes were wide as he held the striped mug in his small hands. John coughed and looked over to his friend. "She'lock… what's wrong?"

"I've… um… I've never had this. Mycroft doesn't cook and… I never really go outdoors anyways so…"

John's blue eyes were wide in disbelief, like he had just been told that his dog Gladstone could fly. "You have to try it! It's really good and the marshmallows are sweet… since you like sugar you should like it!"

Sherlock was suspicious, he looked between his mug and John's, observing; "yours doesn't have any… You don't like sugar… it makes your stomach hurt?"

A bright smile erupted on the blonde's face, "Yeah, I shoulda' figured you'd guess that. Try it, go on."

Returning the smile apprehensively, Sherlock brought the steaming liquid to his mouth. It burnt his tongue but the slightly melted white sugar cooled it. He held the taste and tried to savor it as John looked at him expectantly. It was… well, it was surprisingly good.

"I like it… it's… nice."

John gave another smile, giggling as he looked at his red-cheeked friend. "You shouldn't keep that you know… it doesn't look very good."

Blinking confusedly, Sherlock's grey-green eyes narrowed. "What?"

His friend pointed at his face, "your marshmallow mustache. Makes you look old."

The darker-haired boy licked his upper lip and tasted the light sweetness. Looking back down at his mug, he decided that while snow was intolerable… hot chocolate wasn't all that bad.