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“How much longer do we have to stay out here?” John asked, blowing warm air into his cupped hands and rubbing them together, “it’s bloody freezing!”
“The murder should be here at any moment, John,” he said, turning to look at the shivering doctor, “Why didn’t you wear your coat?”
“I didn’t wear my coat because some ‘genius detective’ forced me out the door and into this bloody freezing park before I could find it, you tosser,” John grumbled, rubbing his hands up and down his arms.
“Perhaps you should keep better track of your things in the future,” Sherlock said, trying to ignore the doctor’s shaking. John huffed and continued trying to warm himself up.
They sat in silence, Sherlock sneaking sideways glances at John and frowning at the sight of the increasingly violent shivering.
“Oh, alright, I’ll share my coat,” Sherlock said, sounding much more eager than he had intended.
“Share your coat? How are two of us supposed to fit in there?”
“Must you be so tiresome? Give me your arm,” Sherlock demanded, pulling John’s close around into the coat and tucking it around his waist so the hand rested at the opposite side. He pulled the rest of John’s body tightly against him, and finally, pulled the outside edge of the coat around them both.
“Is that better?” He asked.
“Much,” John said, leaning into the warmth and resting his head against Sherlock’s chest. He began to rub mindless little circles on Sherlock’s hip.
“You know,” he said, “I’m beginning to hope that criminal doesn’t show at all.”