John slipped and slid down the icy London streets and alleyways after Sherlock, desperately grabbing at the air around his hand, finally clutching onto the long fingers, "Sher," he breathed, barely making the words form through the heavy intake of breath, "I think we lost him."

Sherlock laughed out a breathy chuckle as he swung John into a nearby alleyway. John let out a small, excited shriek of involuntary laughter as he hit the brick wall softly, looking up into Sherlock's clear aqua eyes, the color being lost in the yellow flood of the street lamps.

John pressed his cold hands against Sherlock's face as he studied his eyes, smiling as the pupils widened, the irises becoming almost lost in the darkness, the detective finally returning the eye contact. "You know I don't like it when you do this, John," he whispered, a small smirk playing across his lips, purposely breaking his bluff as his eyes began to search the deep and dark blue ones of his companion, his irises also becoming lost in affection and the lack of proper lighting.

"I know you do, though," John grinned, using his hands to lower Sherlock's forehead to his, breaking eye contact as he lowered his lids to rub his nose against that of the detectives, engaging him in a light series of Eskimo kisses, pulling away to reinspect his eyes when Sherlock let out a small and uncomfortable grunt, "What is it?" he asked, letting his hands trail down to his shoulders and neck.

"Nothing," he said, hearing the pad of familiar feet not a couple yards away, "But, I think you've adequately caught your breath," he said with a nod, pulling John back out into the streets with another excited laugh as the sprinted over the frosted concrete once again.