A Johnlock before christmas

December 1

Snow flurry

"Sherlock! Sherlock, wake up!" John rattled at the detectives shoulders. The dark curled boy who lay sprawled out in his bed groaned and shifted slightly. John shook him again. "Sherlock, wake up", he hissed, not much louder than whispering so as not to wake Greg. Sherlock turned his head upwards to the noise and frowned. "Sherlock!" Sighing, the tall boy opened his eyes and his indefinable orbs glared up at John. "Finally, sleepyhead", John chuckled, pulling at his best friends arms to get him upright.

"Why the hell are you waking me in the middle of the night?", he snarled while trying to swat the blond boys hands away.
"Don't ask, just follow and be quiet. Quick, we have to hurry!", John whispered. With a steady pull he got Sherlock up to his feet. His dark curls bounced and he opened his mouth to protest, but John hushed him. Grabbing his hand and holding it firmly, so that he couldn't lop off, he dragged him through the large holiday house they accompanied with a few friends, tiptoeing because Greg was sleeping in the same room.

Grudgingly Sherlock let himself be pulled out of their bedroom, glancing at the clock on his nightstand before John closed the door silently behind them. It was four a.m., what the hell was wrong with his friend? He scowled at John who just chuckled and winked at him. Then he hurried to the sofa before returning with his jacket and Sherlock's long coat.

"Put that on!", he ordered, while dressing himself.
"Why?", the detective pouted, but John just raised his eyebrows.
"If you want to get a cold it's not my problem. Now hurry, we're losing time."
Frustrated about the lack of information Sherlock grumbled, but shrugged his coat on anyway. He snatched his blue scarf from the nearby standing chair just in time, because John was dragging him forward again, holding tightly onto his arm. He nearly stumbled as the boy, who'd seemingly gone insane, began to jog in front of him. Quickly he caught up.

John led them out onto the street, freezing air hitting them as he opened the door. It was bloody freezing outside, below zero, Sherlock supposed. He shivered as John pulled him a few meters on, more gently now, until they stood in the middle of a large crossroad. There he stopped, releasing the detective from his grip and looking up at the sky.

Sherlock looked at him, confused. Nothing about John's behavior made any sense. He wasn't able to deduce what he was up to. With a frustrated sigh he asked: "What are we doing here?"
John smiled, not looking away from the dark sky which was full of grey clouds.
"We're waiting", he whispered, glancing quickly at a frowning Sherlock.
"For whom? Clearly nobody would-"
"For the snow", John interjected, still looking dreamily up at the sky. It seemed as if he were in an entirely other world.

Sherlock shook his head disapprovingly. Did John drink too much last night? But he didn't seem to be tipsy. Slightly uncomfortable he reached for the blond boy's arm.
"John", he asked concerned, "is something wrong?" John never behaved that odd when everything was fine. Eventually, the shorter boy let his gaze wander back to Sherlock, smiling at him, his eyes sparkling.
"Everything is fine. I just wanted to see the first snow of the year. It'll fall any moment."

Now fully worried Sherlock shook his head. "John, how are you supposed to know, when exactly the snow begins to-"
Sherlock's eyes went wide, as a large and cold flake landed on his nose. Stunned he looked up at the sky to see a beautiful whirlwind of white slowly tumbling down, sparkling in the light of the streetlamps. With a dropped jaw he glanced back and forth between the snow and John, who was beaming at him. His blue eyes sparkled with joy and twinkled just as much as the flakes that surrounded him and got stuck in his short, blond hair, as he chuckled lightly at Sherlock's stunned face.

"But- how- That's impossible!", the detective whispered, not quite trusting his voice. John's blues eyes softened even more, as he stepped closer to Sherlock, hesitantly reaching out for his hand, and as the taller boy didn't pull away, intervening their fingers.
"I smelled the snow. I knew it was coming. I always know and I'm never wrong." He looked up into Sherlock eyes and the dark curled boy could do absolutely nothing than to stare back.

He was caught in the beautiful sight before him. An entirely happy John Watson, beaming at him, snow all over his hair and glittering in his eyelashes, as he blinked slowly, his grin fading into an counted smile, when he felt how Sherlock relaxed. They stood there, staring at one another for what felt like hours, surrounded by dancing snow. When a large flake landed on John's nose, Sherlock gently reached out and wiped it away with his thumb. He let his fingers wander down to John's cheek, slowly, carefully, and then cupped his face upwards. Blue eyes sparkled brighter, as they drew closer, and when the ever-changing ones finally fluttered shut and soft lips met each other, all the snow around them was forgotten.

AN: That was part one of my advent-story-series! Some of them will be one-shots like this, some of them will have more chapters. Just look at the end of every story, there I'll tell you more about it! 
The Idea for this story comes from a short scene in Gilmore Girls. If someone recognizes it, you're awesome! ;) 
- I own nothing - 
Merry Christmas 
~ Allie