As Sherlock turns thirteen the year is passed similarly to his twelfth year. He solves cases spends time with John, and feels deep dismay as Mycroft stops sending letters altogether. Soon the crisp fall evenings grow colder, the shadows grow longer and winter grasps the world in its bitter claws. It's another bleak winter morning when John shows up at the door claiming he has another adventure planned. Sherlock puts me on a lead and bundles up, putting on his favorite blue scarf and a long black coat. With John leading the way we all head into the city. The lights twinkle around us and our breath swirls through the cool evening air. John continues to pull Sherlock along until we arrive in front of a large ice rink. The surface is smooth and glistens in the evening light. Music plays softly through speakers and in the center of the rink a fire roars providing the promise of warmth to cold weary skaters. "What do you think?" John asks with shining eyes. Sherlock hesitates rubbing his hand together and staring out at the shimmering ice. He looks at John for a long moment and shyly explains, "it's beautiful John but I can't skate." John laughs, a warm happy sound and grabs Sherlock's hands. "Don't worry I'll teach you!" He exclaims. Sherlock and John rent skates and soon they are both stepping out onto the ice. I watch them from a nearby bench savoring the picturesque winter scene before me. John glides across the rink, his laughter echoes with the sound of blades slicing through the ice. Sherlock steps towards him tentatively, his thin legs wobbling as he tries to push forward. John grabs Sherlock's hands and skates backwards pulling him along. Soon they are twirling across the rink together both laughing and carefree. It reminds me of when the danced last Christmas, Sherlock and John the two of them against the world. Suddenly Sherlock trips and collapses. John catches him and pulls him up. Sherlock is pressed against John's chest smiling with a dusting of snow in his dark hair. Suddenly they pull closer and their lips meet. It is a sweet kiss the kind of kiss born from friendship, the kind of kiss created by young love and born from an deep understanding of each other and a desire to know more. Sherlock smiles against John's lips and in that moment their love burns so brightly the grasp of winter melts away.
