It was the kind of patch of ice no one slipped on who didn't wish to. It gleamed in the sunlight, bright and shimmering and simply irresistible in a way that it would have been even if it wasn't at the perfect downward angle.
The children were all lined up along it on either side, clapping and cheering as some of the other children took turns running as fast as they could before sliding on the ice as far as they could. If they were good, they made it to the end and collapsed into a pile of snow at the end. If they weren't, the other children would either try to catch them or jump out of the way in time. It was a grand game, and occasionally the children would cheer and shout for a passerby to join in. Those who took part were usually young tradesmen, but occasionally an older person would take part as well, and the children cheered louder than ever whenever they made it to the end.
A chant began as soon as they saw two men in particular coming their way. "Sherlock Holmes! Sherlock Holmes! Sherlock Holmes!"
The detective had been holding his friend's arm, and he let it go, turning to his friend and laughing.
"Sherlock Holmes! Sherlock Holmes!" the chanting continued. It rose to a roar as the detective began to run. He hit the ice fast, leaning back and throwing his arms out as he slid on his heels all the way to the end where he collapsed in a heap of snow. The children gathered around him, helping him to his feet and congratulating him in a torrent of chatter.
Holmes brushed the snow off his coat, smiling and waving at Watson who was standing back, looking amused. The children saw him too.
"Come on, Doctor!" one called, and the others took up the cheer. "Doctor! Doctor!"
Watson looked at Holmes, who shrugged, positioning himself at the end of the ice patch. He held out his arms as if to say, 'Don't worry. I'll catch you.'
Watson didn't run, but he did hand his walking stick over to one of the children in the crowd he knew was an irregular. He placed one foot on the ice and pushed himself off with his other like he was really ice skating on a pond instead of down a London street. Holmes and the children cheered as he balanced on his good leg, letting gravity propel him forward. He didn't try to stop himself, smacking into Holmes with enough force to nearly knock them over, but Holmes had chosen a stable spot to stand, and the children went wild with applause as the two men nearly fell but righted themselves.
As Holmes and Watson walked away, they couldn't help notice that the children were now running as fast as they could and then trying to balance on one foot all the way down the ice. They both laughed; even though they knew it had been an exceedingly foolish thing to do, nothing had been broken and neither of them had been hurt. What was more, they'd both had fun. And, at Christmastime, stopping for a little fun certainly wasn't out of the question.
For the prompt from mrspencil: ice skating.