Watson muttered something under his breath. Sherlock didn't bother to decode it, knowing it was most likely another witty comment of their situation.
"Oh Watson, dearest Watson I wish you would cheer up"
his cold flatmate and colluege sat curled up in a sort of upright fetal potition. A blanket that had small holes chewed through it drapped over his shoulders
still moist from the storm his clothes too wet to wear without catching hypothermia.
"at least we caught the man"
he hissed from the beat up bed
"we didn't catch him, we drove him to a trap five miles from here and now were stuck"
the clear irritation in Watson bothered Sherlock, for once Holmes HADN'T planned for them to even end up where they were. He had in mind something a little more...
dare he say, romantic. Sherlock wouldn't dare touch John out of fear of losing the only person in the world he cared for. The evening was supposed to suggest something