A/N: Thanks be to TheReturned,Sendai and Black Raven Feather for their wonderful reviews! All wonderful writers; check them out!

The Avoidance of Hypothermia

"Fuck, Sherlock, when we get out of here-"

"John, must I tell you again to keep your voice down? The point of a stake-out is to not being detected by the one whom we're staking," the deep voice was an octave lower than normal as the kneeling detective spoke in a rushed whisper.

Taking a deep breath, the silenced man counted to three in his head, reminding himself that punching Sherlock Holmes was probably not the best idea right now. They were in the middle of the woods, waiting for some bloody slow Russian diplomat to make a shady deal with a Slovakian Prince, outside some deserted cabin. Unfortunately, neither detective nor doctor had anticipated the freezing-as-all-fuck weather.

Seeing as how his half-hearted threat had fallen upon decidedly deaf ears, John decided instead to try and reason with the man beside him. "Sherlock, if we stay out here much longer we're in danger of hypothermia. You more than I, since you refused the jumper. Your damn scarf isn't going to be much use and you can't turn up a coat collar to look cool if you don't have your fingers." Raising his eyebrows expectantly, the shorter man could see the cabins dim light playing on the shaded cheekbones of his colleague. It looked like the slightly flickering orange light was dancing over those slashing features, a slow movement which begged to be touched.

Sighing loudly, Sherlock's silvery-green eyes rolled upwards exaggeratedly. "Fine," he replied tightly.

With a triumphant smile, John looked back out beyond their cover, thinking his colleague was finally going to give up this waiting... then he heard a rustling beside him. He turned to see the shivering man stripping of his long black coat. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"We're going to exchange body heat. Come on, take off your jacket, we're wasting time," with that the trim black eyebrows rose impatiently and the shivering intensified. "John, I do believe my risks for hypothermia are heightened now that-"

"Jesus, Sherlock. Give me a minute will you?" knowing now that arguing was going to lead nowhere fast, John took off his jacket and moved closer till his jumper-clad shoulder met the thin white silk of Sherlock's. Swallowing hard on the pleasure which came from that radiating warmth, he pulled the ever-present wool coat over both their huddled bodies.

To his surprise, the detective moved still closer and rested his head on his shoulder. John smiled a bit at the amusing thought of Sherlock Holmes cuddling with him. He was just thinking of a way to put it into his blog without it sounding too romantic or weird before the deep voice rumbled out, "doesn't this normally work better when the individuals in danger of hypothermia are without clothing entirely?"

Crashing down from his honestly innocent train of thought, John could practically feel the small smile on those bowed lips. The thought of being naked with Sherlock, with his best friend and flat-mate… was a bit too agreeable.

A bit too tempting.

He gave a cough before saying stiffly, "No, Sherlock. Just… no."

A small smile had indeed played upon the lips of the detective before he turned his head closer into his friend's neck. Inhaling the mixture of scents which played there, he let his eyes close for a few glorious seconds. Perhaps it was a bit not good that Sherlock had known all along this boring Russian diplomat would take a fair amount of time to appear. He didn't especially care at the moment about propriety.

Hearing John's quick inhale and savoring the feeling of a fleeting tremble, Sherlock let his mind go blank – if only for a mere second – before he turned his eyes back to the cabin before them. His head still resting on the strong shoulder, Sherlock said dismissively, "you're right. People might talk."

Giving a small laugh, John said lightly, "they do little else."

Sherlock allowed his body to relax momentarily before a figure emerged from inside the cabin; the Russian diplomat.

Finally.

Pulling his coat off their bodies, he threw it on as quickly as he could before leaning in close to the still dressing man beside him. "Come on, John," the dark blue eyes met the excited, icily coloured ones. "The game is on."