Water, water...

[drpsychosomatic]

Who| John and Sherlock
What| John's near-death experience with piranhas
Where| Adventureland
When| Backdated before the fireworks
Warnings/Notes| UST Bromance Piranhas.

They needed water. To that end, John was lugging one of the large, empty candy jars from the gift shop they'd broken into on Main street as they made their way towards Adventureland, where Sherlock assured him there would be plenty. They'd probably need to sterilise it as best they could, which John assumed would be easy enough as long as they could start a fire- but with his military survival training and Sherlock's own expertise both in chemisty and hell-raising, he wasn't too worried about that.

"Are you sure it won't crack?" he asked, tapping his fingertips on the glass as they walked, "Or is that a stupid question to ask a chemist?" 

Comments

[alldeduction]

"Probably," He agreed, as he quickly built the fire. Luckily the wood was dry enough that it was catching fairly easily, and within a moment it had a small but healthy blaze. Sherlock let out a long breath as he finally let himself relax.

He walked back over to John, leaning down to touch his shoulders. "Can you move closer to the fire? If we can get you dry, we can get my tunic on you--"

[drpsychosomatic]

"Yeah, I can, hang on." He manoeuvred himself closer to the fire, his skin still cold and clammy to the touch. He shivered. "Well, I hope they don't mind getting an eyeful..."

[alldeduction]

"I am sure we're making spectacular television," Sherlock muttered, standing up and walking over to where his tunic lay, and bringing it over. He put a hand on John's side and tsked loudly when he found the skin still clammy. "Dry faster," he complained.

[drpsychosomatic]

He laughed, shivering and shifting a little closer to the fire. "Believe me, Sherlock, I'm doing my best," he said. "Do you think, if we asked nicely, they'd send some marshmallows?

[alldeduction]

"I think that would require storytelling in a very particular direction," Sherlock said, before standing and collecting John's sodden clothes, and laying them out next to the fire.

[drpsychosomatic]

John looked at him quizzically, really not sure what he was talking about. (Not, of course, that losing Sherlock's train of thought was a particularly rare occurrence.)

"You're going to tell a story?"

[alldeduction]

But Sherlock said nothing more on the subject. It wasn't best to break the fourth wall while your audience was watching, after all, and a food shipment would be very welcome.

"No." He said simply, before leaning over and pressing fingertips to John's side again. Much better. "There, you're mostly dry now." He grabbed his tunic and handed it to John. "Put this on."

[drpsychosomatic]

John didn't need to be asked twice, his confusion quickly forgotten as he focused instead on the much less complicated demand. He pulled Sherlock's tunic on as quickly as he could, shifting a little closer to the fire.
"At least no-one seems to be coming," he said, glancing up. "Not yet, anyway."

[alldeduction]

"Not yet," Sherlock agreed as he stepped down to the water's edge and collected some of the piranhas. It had been long enough that all of them were well and truly dead.

He brought them back, cast them down next to the fire, and crouched down to check on John. He was fine. Or, at least as well as he could be expected to be. Sherlock let out a long breath.

"... Not yet."