London is generally very cold in the winter. Having lived there for the main part of his life, John Watson was used to that, and this year was no exception. He could normally keep warm by wearing knitted jumpers, but this day was remarkably cold, and unlike Sherlock he did not have the ability to predict just how freezing waiting for a cab was going to be. Which is why he found himself shivering on the sidewalk outside 221b, his friend/colleague/lover (the nature of their relationship had yet to be established) standing next to him.
The other man was wearing a wonderfully fitting suit (and yes, John might have checked him out that morning, appreciating beauty was not a crime) as well as his long, black coat and a blue scarf. It was devastatingly sexy, the way he had turned his collar up against the wind, and still he managed not to freeze. Or perhaps it was just below him to show when he did.
"To be a city recognized for its many cabs, I'd say we're doing a pretty rubbish job."
Sherlock put his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Patience."
"We've been waiting for twenty minutes, it's cold as hell, and you're on silent mode. I haven't got any patience right now."
It was true. Twenty minutes was an unreasonable amount of time to try to hail a cab, but the snow had been falling all night and traffic was crazy.
"Why don't we just walk? The important thing is that we get there, not how we do it."
When Sherlock didn't answer, John rolled his eyes and tried again.
"It is freezing, Sherlock. If we walk I can at least try to keep the heat up, and you don't have to spend days bringing me tea because I'm sick."
Once again the other man refused to answer, so John simply sighed.
"You know what, sod it, I'm going up to grab another sweater."
He turned on the spot and walked back up towards the now familiar black door, but he had only reached the very first step when he heard Sherlock's deep voice behind him.
"John."
He turned again.
"What?"
The other man looked hesitant for a few moments, and then started unbuttoning his coat.
"What are you doing?"
But Sherlock just unbuttoned his coat completely and then held it open.
"Come here."
John took a few tentative steps forward."
"Sherlock-"
"Just come here."
John stepped in close, still not completely sure that Sherlock was proposing what he was hoping. He took the final step and ended up closer to the other man than he had ever been before. Sherlock closed his arms as well as his coat around John's cold body, and John felt the detective's body heat seep into him.
"This is rather nice", he said.
"It is", came the answer, and John could feel Sherlock's chest rumble when he spoke. "Then again, body contact is always rather nice with you, my John."
My John.
He wasn't cold anymore.