They had been racing down the rain slicked back streets, jumping debris and splashing through puddles in an effort to catch up to the man ahead. Thanks to his longer legs, Sherlock was closing the distance quicker and didn't realize that John had fallen behind until he heard a muffled curse and a thud. Turning slightly, he saw John pull himself out of a large pothole filled with rainwater.
He immediately realized that turning was a mistake as the criminal doubled back in their direction, gun in hand.
"John, run!" he ordered. His friend went to bolt and stumbled. The expression on his face as Sherlock approached told the detective that he wouldn't be running anywhere. He slipped his arm under John's shoulder, hauling him roughly around the corner. Scanning the alley, it was clear the only options were run or hide, and one of those was not about to happen.
Before their assailant could round the corner, Sherlock ripped open a rusted door to what he correctly assumed would be a storage space and shoved John inside ahead of him before slamming the door shut. The room was pitch black and very damp. The two men were crowded on top of each other with barely any breathing room between them.
John, in usual form, quipped, "We can add being manhandled into a dark closet to the list of things people will definitely talk about," with a small chuckle.
"People do little else, John, as I've said before," came the clipped response, then, more gently, "Are you ok?"
"Yeah. Fine. Ankle is twisted. Not broken. Bit of bad timing though, eh?" Both men giggled.
As they awaited the inevitable sounds of sirens approaching, they stood there in the dark, catching their breath, bodies brushing against one another in the confined space.
"Sorry about the dreadful accommodations," the detective joked. "I promise to find us a better room for the next date." To his confusion, the laugh from the man next to him made him feel oddly nervous, and the gentle, slightly lingering pat on the his arm sent a small shiver down his spine.
John cleared his throat. "The police are out there, it's probably safe to go now," he said, swiftly brushing an arm around his flatmate to push open the door.
Stepping back out into the rain, a familiar voice rang out in friendly jest, "Oi! Look who just came out of the closet!"