Sherlock sat at the kitchen table, tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated on the task at hand. John watched him from his chair in front of the fireplace, nursing a hot cocoa as he savoured the feeling of contentment. Flames lapped at the faux logs in the fireplace, throwing off real heat to ward off the winter chill.
John loved watching Sherlock when the other man was unaware of being watched. Focussed as he was on his task, serious intent writ on the lines of his forehead, the detective was in his element. Nothing could distract him until the deed was complete, and John had no desire to interrupt. This project was very important to Sherlock, and he was working with a deadline.
Night pressed up against the windows. Every few minutes one of the panes rattled from a gust of wind as the inclement weather did its best to intrude, to no avail. Their domicile remained cosy and safe.
Finally Sherlock raised his head and gave John a soft smile. John’s heart beat double time. Sherlock put down the scissors and lifted up his finished product: a chain of five perfect and unique snowflakes created from one sheet of construction paper.
“Is this adequate for Rosie’s school Christmas party?”
John’s heart swelled to the point of bursting.