Neck
John
A slither of white, smooth skin revealed itself between the line of his chin and the blue knit of the scarf. His neck was ridiculously long, like a giraffe's, and just as elegant; a graceful column of pale flesh that rose and fell, stretched and sagged with every breath.
Giraffes had always been John's favourite animal.
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Sherlock
Chequered shirt, brown jumper and flash of golden skin: the typical attire of the good doctor.
Sherlock didn't like patterned shirts, never had, far too fussy but he could just about bear to look at them in his flatmate.
It had nothing to do, of course, with the beautifully formed, taunt, tanned flesh of John's neck; nothing whatsoever.
Giraffes seem a little random I know, but go with it.