Chapter 4: Blind
They tumble to a halt in the shadows of an empty arch in Vauxhall, trying to suppress their panting in order to listen for pursuit. Sherlock presses them both back into deeper darkness, looming over his shorter flatmate to hide the pale smudges of their faces.
Their breath mingles in the pocket of warm air between them. Their pursuers don't catch up immediately, hesitant to enter the dark vaults under the railroad lines. Wise of them. It would be a lovely spot for a trap if Sherlock had only foreseen this chase. Waiting for their aggressors to approach, John and Sherlock struggle to master themselves, heaving chests subsiding as their pulse rates slowly fall back toward resting. This close, Sherlock can feel John's heartbeat drumming against him, always a little faster because he's smaller. He's in excellent shape, though, really; it was unjustly good fortune to acquire a colleague who could keep up with the running.
He feels John shift against him, settling his weight to a more balanced distribution in case they need to move quickly, and then Sherlock leans into him, stilling him against the wall as footsteps finally enter the arch. These men are armed and, tonight, he and John are not. Hiding is their best chance. He wraps a hand around John's brow and eyes, so that he can see between Sherlock's gloved fingers and over his shoulder without his hair giving them away, and they both stop breathing.