Oneshots (multifandom but mostly Harry Potter)

Hole (Sherlock Skit - very short)

An: Hey! Tell me what you think and if you want a part two? Unedited

         There were no words shared between you and the great Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes this solemn afternoon. He had solved his cases and come back to the flat only to be greeted with your obviously out of place form. You were sat on the couch, book open but forgotten in your lap as you gazed into the distance with an empty expression.

Sherlock hardly faltered and came to take his place at your side. You broke from your trance and smiled at your best friend, readjusting to lean on his shoulder while he steepled his hands beneath his chin. You picked your book back up, but as Sherlock slipped into his mind palace to reorganize his thoughts, you also slipped into yours.

You, however, were not reorganizing your thoughts.

Fantasies and memories plagued your unseeing eyes, fully consumed in your overpowering imagination. It's had been over a year since you broke up with him, the man you thought you would marry, and you had nearly completely gotten over him. He was happy with the woman he was with now, and you were happy that he was happy. You had spent your day with the pair, who were newly expecting, painting the nursery a brilliant yellow.

While you remained good friends with him and his fiancé throughout the crippling heartbreak you received, it didn't stop you from feeling sad when it was time for you to return home. You hadn't dated since the breakup, and the reason why was unknown to you. You just.... couldn't. It wasn't that you were afraid of commitment or that you simply hadn't found anyone who was interested in you, the problem wasn't that obvious.

But it was days like these that you would fall into the never ending pit of self questioning thoughts that really took a toll on you mind and body. You sighed.

"Hey Sherlock?" You breathed, softly as to not anger him.

"What is it?" His words were dull and full of disinterest, something you learned quickly to dismiss.

"Can I borrow your hand?" You asked absently, eyes trained on one of the many papers littering the table. "I need you to check something for me."

Sherlock removed his left hand from under his chin, holding it out for you to take. You took hold of it gently and brought it to your chest, pressing it to the soft skin over your collarbones. Sherlock furrowed his brows and opened his eyes, looking down at you questioningly.

"What do you feel?" You asked the confused man, gazing sadly into space.

"Your ribcage, collarbones, skin, the beating of your heart." He listed, and you guided his hand back up to its steepled position. "Why?"

"Just wanted to check." You answered with a sigh, letting your hand fall into the abandoned book.

"What, exactly, were you checking?" He frowned with slight impatience. He didn't mind doing whatever you needed him for, but he expected a through explanation when he was done.

"That there wasn't really a hole in my chest."