The Shadows of Snowflakes (слэш)

John Watson is the anticipation of a lightning strike, the seconds before electricity surges through the sky, enough to make the hair on the back of Sherlock’s neck stand up. But the actual strike never comes and he’s left waiting, holding his breath, skin prickling. Desperate for something to change.
“Afghanistan or Iraq?” he asks. The words taste like a beginning.
It's been winter in London for years, Sherlock is cursed, and John may or may not be able to help him.