Sherlock advent drabbles :D
Today's word is: Climate
British weather is unpredictable at best. At the beginning of October, there's a heatwave.
It's about 27 degrees outside. Inside, it feels much hotter. John's had to scrabble in the back of his wardrobe to tug out all his summer clothes, but even in shorts and a T-shirt he still feels too hot.
Sherlock, however, appears to be impervious to anything outside his own mind. John enters the living room to find Sherlock sat at the dining table wearing a suit, jacket and all.
"Jesus," says John. He throws open the windows to let in some air. "Aren't you hot? It's boiling today."
"Mmmm," replies Sherlock, in a way that suggests he's not listening at all. He stares at the table over the top of steepled fingers.
"Still working on that Swedish case, then," says John. He picks up his phone and his book from the coffee table. "I'm going out to the park. Want to come along?"
Sherlock doesn't even acknowledge that one.
John shrugs. "Fair enough. See you later." And he heads out of the door.
A couple of hours pass before John returns. The park is nice but on a day like this it's completely packed. In the end John decides to head home for some respite from the crowds.
When he arrives, John half expects Sherlock to still be sat at the dining table, but what he finds, when he walks in the front door, is Sherlock splayed out on the couch and not wearing a single item of clothing.
Right. John coughs. "Finish that case then, did you?"
Sherlock just groans and closes his eyes. "It's so hot," he complains. "John, you didn't tell me it was this hot."
"Um," John puts down his book and heads into the kitchen, "I think I did, actually."
Sherlock groans again. "I feel like I'm going to die."
"You'll be fine." John pours himself a glass of water from the fridge and looks over to the couch. "Could you not put some clothes on? What if Mrs Hudson comes in?"
Sherlock sighs. "I'm sure she's seen it all before." He flings a hand out to the side. "Ice!"
John huffs a laugh and looks in the freezer. "I don't think we have any ice." He rummages around. "Will frozen peas do?"
"Yes. Peas. Anything." And Sherlock grabs the bag of peas gratefully as John deposits it in his outstretched hand.
John smirks and settles himself in an armchair. "Not a fan of the heat?"
Sherlock says nothing, just places the bag of peas on his face with a happy sigh.
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