Sherlock Oneshots

Rain||Sherlock x Reader

You looked up to the sky to see thick, grey clouds hovering above you. Great. Rain began to fall, at first lightly, but got heavier every second. You were in the middle of a full on downpour on the one day you left your umbrella on the underground. There was no chance of you getting a bus or a taxi; your phone was dead and your wallet was in your flat. Gloomily, you began to trudge back home, the icy droplets seeping into your skin, making you shiver. Just as you thought you would freeze to death, you noticed a familiar figure walking towards you. The top of his face was obscured by a black umbrella, but you could tell who it was from the proud way he held himself and the thick, blue trench coat. Sherlock. The one person who never failed to turn up just in time. That's why you loved him; he had a certain way of turning up at the most convenient times. Of course, he didn't know that you felt that way about him, and even if he did, you highly doubted he'd ever reciprocate it.
"(Y/N)? You must be freezing!" Sherlock exclaimed, putting down his umbrella. You were about to respond when a warm scarf was wrapped around your neck, enveloping you in his pleasant scent.
"Would you like my coat too?" He asked. You furiously shook your head.
"No, I don't want you to get cold."
"Please?" Sherlock begged slightly, but you persisted.
"Well, at least let me do this, then." He smiled, and took your hand in his. Your heart began to race, and you were sure he noticed it. Sherlock held his umbrella over both of you, and you strolled down the street holding his hand, forgetting all about the cold.
"Interesting." He commented, breaking the comfortable silence you had been sharing.
"What is?" You asked, slightly confused.
"I've always wondered how it felt to hold your hand. It's like two puzzle pieces coming together. They fit so well."
This made your face heat up, and you prayed that he would just put the blush spreading across your cheeks down to it being cold.
"We should do it more often." He carried on. Honestly. Was he trying to give you a heart attack?
"You've gone awfully quiet, (Y/N). Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, a concerned expression knitting his eyebrows together.
"I'm better than okay." You smiled.

The two of you were almost back at 221b Baker Street, the flat you were temporarily living in due to yours being wrecked by fire. A sigh escaped your lips; you almost didn't want the walk home to end, even if by this point you were completely soaked by the rain.
"(Y/N)? May I try another thing?" Sherlock asked, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. All of the words left your mouth as you studied every detail of his face, leaving you only able to nod.
He put his umbrella down again, and brought his face closer to yours, and you stood on your tiptoes to close the gap. Heart racing as your lips touched for the first time. If you could freeze time, you would have happily stayed in that moment for an eternity, but like all good things, it had to end, and you begrudgingly pulled away before either of you got hypothermia.
"I think we should try that again sometime." Sherlock smiled, grabbing your hand again and leading you indoors.