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One of John’s favourite things to do in the winter was looking out the window and seeing kids playing, carefree and innocent. Throwing snowballs, making snow angels and snowmen, skating, all bundled up. Their cheeks were rosy with cold and their noses were presumably runny, and the twinkle in their eye was impossible to miss.
It reminded John of a simpler time. When he hadn’t known about war and hatred and bigotry. When he hadn’t known about the demons and monsters that lined the adult brain.
He glanced out of the window by the desk at Baker Street and smiled, seeing two kids chasing each other down the street, laughing and screaming. It warmed his heart while at the same time breaking it. Sometimes, he wished he could go back in time.
His train of thought was broken as Sherlock came stomping up the stairs, snow falling off of his shoes and the hems of his trousers.
“I got stuck in a snow bank,” he muttered.
John suppressed a giggle, knowing it would only further Sherlock’s frustration.
“Why’s your hair wet? It hasn’t snowed today.”
Sherlock stopped in his tracks and stared at John, a look of disdain present on his face.
“A child threw a snowball at me.”
John heaved over, laughing until he had tears in his eyes.
“Jo-ohn!” Sherlock whined. “It’s not funny!”
“You just look so cute, all angry about a little bit of snow,” John winked.
No matter how long it had been since they started officially dating, John still knew exactly how to make Sherlock blush.
John wandered into the kitchen and found a dishtowel, rubbing it over Sherlock’s hair, his curls becoming full of static. John’s heart did that fluttery thing it liked to do when Sherlock didn’t look “perfect”. John placed both of his hands on either side of Sherlock’s face, trying to warm up his cheeks.
When Sherlock wasn’t expecting it, John swiftly kissed his nose. Sherlock groaned and rubbed his nose, but underneath the façade of irritation was a small smile that Sherlock just couldn’t hide. Or maybe John just knew him better than he had known anything in his entire life.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to go for a walk after the snow apparently attacked you?”
“Well,” Sherlock started. “I guess it wouldn’t be so bad with you.”
“Yes! I’ll protect you from those big bad kidlets throwing snow at you,” John teased lovingly.
“Bite me.”
“I just might.”
John giggled and walked to the coat-rack as Sherlock turned bright red. He geared up, throwing on his heavy winter jacket, a hat with a pom-pom that Sherlock just hated, his favourite scarf, and a pair of mittens.
“Shall we?”
“Fiiiine,” Sherlock mumbled. “You should know I think it’s odd you enjoy winter so much.”
John smiled and looped his arm with Sherlock.
They took their time, walking leisurely. John enjoyed people watching as they walked, and Sherlock enjoyed watching John. Unbeknownst to Sherlock, John had a plan.
Eventually, they ended up at a nearby park and John grinned.
“You remember last week when you told me you had never made a snowman?” John asked.
“Of course I remember.”
“Good. I hope you see where I’m going with this…”
“Oh,” Sherlock realized.
“I mean, we don’t have to, if you don’t want to…” John trailed off. “I just thought…”
Sherlock tackle-hugged John to the ground, landing in a clean pile of snow.
“Can we make snow angels too?” Sherlock whispered.
“Anything you want, love,” John whispered back.
John watched with adoration as Sherlock’s eyes lit up. He maneuvered them so Sherlock was now the one underneath. John started by kissing Sherlock’s forehead, and then kissed his chin. Then, he kissed his nose. Sherlock was giggling and John kissed both of his cheeks before finally landing on his lips.
The heat between them could have melted the most stubborn ice that day.
John rolled off of Sherlock and helped him up.
“Okay, first things first. We have to make the bottom ball.”
John started a small snowball and began rolling it across the snow, demonstrating for Sherlock.
“Should we make a big one or a little one?”
“A big one!” Sherlock grinned.
John kept rolling the ball of snow until it got a little too big for him to do on his own. Sherlock helped until they were satisfied it was large enough.
“Your turn.”
John started the snowball and handed it to Sherlock, who rolled it around the snow, a gigantic smile on his face. The sun was starting to set and it was getting colder, but they didn’t care.
The two of them lifted the second ball onto the first, making sure it wasn’t going to fall.
“Okay, one more!”
John quickly finished the last ball and let Sherlock place it atop the first two.
“This is the fun part,” John said. “Go find some fallen branches and I’ll find the other things!”
Sherlock kissed John on the cheek and went to find branches or twigs. John scoured the park for things that could be used as the eyes, nose, and mouth. He managed to find some decent sized rocks that could be used for both the eyes and the mouth.
The nose was proving difficult to find, however.
John looked around and noticed a mother and a father with their child, decorating their own snowman. He wandered over to the family, a smile on his face. He asked politely if they had a spare carrot – he and his boyfriend were making a snowman and his boyfriend had never made one before.
“It was a spur of the moment decision, really,” John continued explaining.
Lucky for him, they had a spare and were more than willing to give it to him.
“Cheers, happy holidays!” he said, shaking their hands.
When John returned to their snowman, Sherlock was there waiting with what he had found. John helped jam the branches into the middle snowball.
“Do you want to do the honours?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s time to add the face!”
John smiled and set out what he had scavenged.
“Where the bloody hell did you find a carrot?”
“Winter is magic, Sherlock,” John replied.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and decorated the snowman. His first snowman ever. With the sun nearly down, it was hard to tell if John had noticed tears in Sherlock’s eyes, but he was pretty certain he had.
John pulled out his mobile and opened up the camera.
“Here, stand on the other side, Sherlock.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to take a selfie, that’s why.”
John put his arm around the snowman, and Sherlock did too. Their hands didn’t rest on the snowman, though. Instead, their hands rested on each other’s shoulders. John got the camera into selfie mode and tested the angle.
“Perfect,” he said. “Smile!”
And Sherlock did.
He smiled a smile so big that John fell in love with him all over again.