a/n: This is absolutely inspired by some fan art from tumblr. I can't remember what.
"Sherlock, it's cold, what are we doing?" John complains, jumping every few steps to keep up with the detective. Sherlock turns curtly and stops.
"Clearing my head," he says. John cocks his head and they continue on in complete silence. John admires the flowers in the dark, he's always loved the look of the treetops against the darkening sky. It is streaked pink and blue, with hues of yellow throughout. He's certain Sherlock's eyes are the same shade of blue. He smiles slightly.
His jaw clicks. Sherlock grabs it quickly, attempting to stop his teeth from chattering. John appreciates the feeling of Sherlock's warm skin against his raw flesh. Sherlock tries not to trace John's bone with obvious interest. John is in no way suspicious. They continue on, Sherlock's hand still holding John's mouth closed. John moves awkwardly to allow for this.
John clasps his bare arms across his chest, desperately trying to regain some warmth from the center of his body. His is marginally successful. He regains the feeling he had lost in his joints. John finds comfort in the small sounds Sherlock's body is forced to make. He relishes in the echos of Sherlock's footsteps, the swish of his coat across his trousers. Sherlock removes his hand eventually, tucking it back into the front pocket of his jacket. Shortly thereafter, John's jaw begins chattering again. Sherlock attempts to imagine the exact action taking place to avoid annoyance. He's entirely aware that John isn't doing it intentionally. This is quite unsuccessful. Sherlock growls beneath his breath, which was still completely audible to John.
"If you're cold, you should have worn a jacket," Sherlock says, stopping again to glare at John. They hold each other's gaze for a long moment. John steps forward, sliding his hands beneath Sherlock's coat and wrapping them around his waist. "Oh," is the only intelligible noise Sherlock is able to make. He pulls John close and wraps his jacket around him. Sherlock Holmes envelops John Watson.
John presses his face into Sherlock's neck, wiggling between his scarf and his warmth. He rubs his nose into him, inhaling his scent deeply. Sherlock rests his chin on the top of John's head and smiles. His heart is beating hard against John's chest, and he holds him tighter still. Sherlock could not imagine letting go of his Watson.
Sherlock supposes he now understands what is so lovely about sharing.