Sherlock Imagines

Snow, murder, and A kiss to remember (Sherlockxreader)

London in late November? Yep, there was snow EVERYWHERE. Not that you minded, you loved a winter wonderland whenever you had the possibility to see one! Of course, this enthusiasm was cut short by Sherlock's constant grouching. Who'd he think he was? The grinch? Ebanezer Scrouge?  (Okay, so probably, but still!) it was downright dreadful! And through all this magic, what was the tall... handsome... gorgeous detective making you do? Go look at some poor bloke's dead body, blood seeped into the snow, gruesome crime scene.
"Hurry up, y/n!" You drudges on, wishing only to marvel in the natural display of winter beauty around you. Noticing your (what he considered odd) behavior, he grabbed your arm, dragging you the rest of the way.
"A homicide with no weapon, no victim ID, no trace of any one thing that killed him? It's Christmas, y/n!" He mused in that sultry baritone voice. Usually hearing him this excited would cheer you right up, yet all you wanted to do right now was punch that stupid grin off his charming face! You huffed, picking up the pace a bit more. The temptation of simply stopping and admiring the beautiful coloured canvas of the London view, painted with the miniature, each one exquisitely unique, diamonds, piled up in glistening mounds. It truly was nature's greatest masterpiece. Oh, how you loved the snow!
"Ah, Sherlock, y/n, c'min." Lestrade greeted, holding up the blue police tape. You ducked under, ignoring Sherlock's blabbering about the scene. While he deduced the blood-curdling horrific crime scene, you examined the art in front of you. Avoiding the crime as much as possible. It is hard to believe that every single one of those beautiful, millions of snowflakes were unique. If only people were like that. All their personalities eager to please, following the crowd until everyone was the same entity. Only three or four people at a time were brace enough to stand against the crowd and suffer the trauma.
"Oh great, he brought freak in." People like Sherlock Holmes. He pretended the words they shot at him didn't hurt. That they affected him exactly zero percent, but that facade could only work on so many people, before when came along to see past it. Luckily, that one had been you. You, yourself, were nothing spectacular. You had a deep way of thinking, you liked to point out the complexity where others saw simplicity. But you were no genius. Much like John, you were simply a conductor of light. Sherlock, himself, was the bright one. You didn't mind, however, and simply enjoyed spending time with the detective.
"Ah, Sally, so nice to see you, too! And would you look at that? Found someone else's floors to scrub? So soon after your dearest Phillip ended your affair?" At least Sherlock had found his own way to cope. You tried to refrain from smiling at the nosy detective's insult as she quickly tried to defend herself, no longer having Anderson there to protect her. Oh, sweet success. F-For Sherlock, of course. You directed your attention back to the snow, and the children enjoying it's frozen delights as they started snowball fights. It was simply wonderful, to you, that one piece of semi-frozen water molecules combined together, multiplied to an exponential amount, could lead to such an exquisite delight as this winter wonderland, furthermore, that it could bring such joy, by simply molding a few hundred together. This process made all the simpler by the London weather. It was priceless.
"Y/n, come here, tell me what you see." Oh you dreaded this. A dead body on your glorious, gorgeous snow. It's crimson staining the pearly purity it once held. Alas, you followed Sherlock's directions, standing next to him to examine the corpse. It was worse than you originally imagined. His intestines had been ripped, shredded, and spread into a square pattern next to him, while his blood curled and forced its way further from it's source using the snow. The grizzly scene's disastrous picture unclear from the lack of knowledge to what could do such a thing. His eyes store blankly at the sky. Tips of his skin matching the once light blue colour of said sky. He had been frozen by the flakes of snow, yet there were no footprints. His body had to have been left here after the drift, or else he would've been buried in the snow, and the patterned trails his blood left would've been nonexistent.
"His body had to have been dropped from somewhere." You looked up at the tall structures around you, pinpointing a few areas that he could've been dropped from. Sherlock nodded, considering the input. He soon waved you off, so you stood towards the edge of the crime scene, allowing him to do his deducing in peace. You wanted to run, be free in your winter paradise, but Sherlock could never let you have any form of happiness in your life, could he? Nope, that's why your anger was relishing in these critical moments. Why you started packing together a mound of snow while he showed of his amazing talents. Why your arms was pulling back, then launching the white ball at him. Why he was now staring in utter shock, face half-caked with snow as you instantly regretted the decision. Though, it was also why you were giggling like a schoolgirl!
"The hell, y/n!?" He stomped up to you, trying his hardest to be upset, but your giggles melting away the anger. Seeing you were non-responsive, he started making his own snowball... then through the icy creation directly at you, full force. He expected anger, or for you to be upset, but all you did was beam, happier then ever.
"Sherlock!" You giggled through the numbing of your lips, "You finally understand how to have some fun!" You laughed some more, while he just shook his head. A small, secretive smile pulling on his lips. When you finally got over you laughing fit, you realized how cold your lips really were. Sherlock just had to point it out.
"Your lips are blue." He mentioned, eyes trained on you as you simply shrugged, smiling some more. Deciding to take action, he leaned down, kissing you square on the lips. They definitely weren't cold now... You could here everyone freezing around you, your eyes probably widening to the same degree theirs were. As he pulled away, you failed to notice the small smirk he put on, or the increase of his pulse. All you noticed was your shock.
"W-What was that?"
"Your lips were cold," he flipped his collar up to conceal his ever-growing, satisfied smirk, "they needed to be warmed up."