Sherlock Holmes and the Nightmare Man. Ch 1.

It was yet another dark and chilly night in Bakers street, rain pouring all over the road and splattering on the windows though the noise could be easily ignored. It was the norm in England, the weather was always miserable and cold. And so was the atmosphire in 221b in the flat that stood near the middle of that one street. Inside the flat sat Sherlock Holmes, The Consulting Detective and possibbly one of the best yet slighly unusual person you could come across, sitting sloppily on his couch. There was someone else who lived there too,  who could possibly be the only person to understand Sherlock and put up with his strange ways - Dr John Watson who sat cosily in his cream jumper. Together they were not only a team or colleagues they were indeed friends, some may even consider best friends but eitherway there was bond a there.

John was doing what he did on any normal day, sitting down on a chair made of cheap wood next to the matching table, they didn't really care about quality of furniture as long as the price was cheap, his laptop sitting proudly on it and a mug of warm coffee was sitting in his hand as he took a quick sip whilst he looked at the reviews of his blog. There had been no activity for the past two weeks, no crimes in need of solving and no murders, but he still was interested what the comments were from people who read his website from he privious cases he and Sherlock had solved.

But the same couldn't be said for Sherlock who was sulking, not because john wouldn't let him do smething but because in his mind wouldn't let him think on anything of interest to do now that no other clients had walked through his door since the resolution of his last case. He was bored. Sherlock was always like this between cases, most people who saw this side of him would call him childish, others would say it was down to mental problems - it was probably both. You were bound to get bored under the connditions of not having anything to do.

''John I'm bored.'' Sherlock moaned, his normal way of at least doing something was annoying John for a litte while but soon, like everything else he did, would too become boring.
''And what do you want me to do huh? I'm not a mind reader, I don't know what you want to do.'' John replied plainly, not even bothering to face Sherlock anymore as most of the time he did, Sherlock wouldn't meet his gaze ayway.
''Well neither do I, thats why I'm informing you of my current emotion, to see if you had any Idea's on what I could do... Why is everything so boring, even a cigarette cant help this.'' He replied, moving into another possition on the couch. He was always, and I do mean always, like this when he was bored. Every minute or so he would  turn around, sometimes he would even just get a slight thrill from the blood rushing to his head when hanging  upside down from the couch- but that entertainment only lasted seconds.
''Then why don't you do something helpful, like housework instead of leaving it to Mrs Hudson or maybe sorting out your old stuff, things you don't need anymore.'' John suggested. Both of those things should have been done. Mrs Hudson was their landlady yet Sherlock treated her like a maid. And the rooms hadn't been sorted out since... well since John could remember anyway. ''And I thought you were giving up smoking?''
''I want something interesting to do John. Both of those things are boring.'' He protested, letting out a long sigh once more, its not like he could show off how he analyses people to John as to Dr Watson it was just the usual, that and Sherlock had analysed everything about him. With that, as if on cue, the door knocked and Sherlock's icy blue eyes re-directed themselves from Johns computer screen to the door itself, full of hope that it will be something of interest.  ''And yes but its times like these call for the drug.''

''Sherlock, John you have a visitor.''

It was Mrs Hudson. To the boys not only was she their landlady but sort of a mother-like figure as she always wanted to make sure they were alright. She would always inform the boys if they had a client come a-knocking on their door, mainly as she lived on the ground floor of the building. Instantly Sherlock sat up from his sprawled out, one-leg-on one-leg-off couch position and sat up straight like a bowling pin and then stood.You would have never guessed that when it came to Sherlock being lazy he was a slob as his posture was so... near perfect.
''Lets hope its not boring.'' Sherlock muttered, walking over to the door to open it using his bony, pale fingers. He was almost like a vampire he was, with his skin as white as snow and his eyes ice blue, and his hair... well that was always a ebony mess. But either way, he looked somewhat inhuman.
''Oh one can only hope, Sherlock. One can only hope.'' John said considering he had literally had heard over 100 'I'm  Bored' remarks that morning alone from his companion, and quite frankly it was getting on his nerves.

The two split up, Sherlock attended to the door as John attended to the kitchen, putting the steel kettle on to boil the water for their clients wishes if they wanted a drink and if they didn't want any, for a re-fill of his coffee.

Sherlock lead the client into the room, showed her to a seat before sitting down in front of the woman. She was young, possibly mid to late twenties, wore a simple blouse with an orange, sleeveless v-neck jumper and pair of work trousers. She was bound to be going to work as her clothes seemed to be new that morning, her blond hair tied back into a bun and her eyes were make-upped freshly, and they were avoiding Sherlock's for the time being, looking around the messy room.

With that John walked into the room to see if the client would want something to drink, and noticed the way she was looking around the room, noticing the mess. He really should have cleaned up earlier as he had as much to blame as Sherlock did for not keeping the apartment clean.
''Well, welcome to our apartment,''Sherlock said, the woman's eyes now looking at him though as if through him, not wanting to look at his gaze. She looked somewhat troubled.'' I'm Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend, Dr John Watson.'' Sherlock said plainly, his eyes fixed onto the woman's though, already analyzing her body language.
''I apologize about the mess, were currently having some... problems, miss?'' John asked, implying that he wanted her name. The woman looked over at him, her eyes were full of worry as she took a breath.
''Its Bethany Clark, but just call me by my first name, please.'' She said, her hands tapping her knee, anyone could tell she was scared, frightened of something. This intrigued Sherlock, his boredom that he had only moments before seemed to have disappeared, or at least been hidden under Sherlock's skin, you could never really tell how he was feeling, unless he told you what.

''Alright then, Bethany. Would you like some tea? Coffee maybe.'' John asked, but with that Sherlock chuckled slightly. ''Whats so funny?'' John looked over at Sherlock, head tilted as that confused look fell on his face already trying to figure out what the humor was in asking someone if they wanted a drink, Even Bethany was looking confused but that was normal in a client, the tapping of her fingers and the fidgeting had stopped at this point.

''John, its obvious,'' Sherlock said. With that John rolled his eyes, knowing what was to come. ''She's already had a tea this morning, and according to the time about half past 8, the time she would drop off her child. She has a dog also and I know she came here by car. Do you want to know why I know this? There's a tea stain on your shirt, indicating you accidentally spilled it and it hasn't dried yet as the material would have hardened slightly but that one is still soft, down to the way your shirt folds. You have a child as the time you got here it was 9am, a normal school time to drop off your child is half 8, and by the looks of things if you didn't have a child you would already be at work right now as most shifts start at 6-7 am around here. Let me guess an office worker? yes, you are. Your clothes aren't in uniform meaning your not seen by the public but still smart enough to be presentable around your colleagues. I can tell you have a dog by the hairs on your trousers, really you shouldn't wear black trousers around a cream-haired dog and it must be a golden retriever as the fur isn't short enough to be a Labrador's but the height of where the hair comes to is about average height of one. You didn't walk here as if you had an umbrella you would have still been damp from about the hips down, and by damp I mean wetter than you are now from the wait outside witch wasn't that long at all, Am I correct?'' Sherlock asked, his lips curled slightly, showing he knew he was.

Bethany was speechless, her eyes wide in awe, trying to find out how on earth he had done it all, but yes it as all correct. Her look just made Sherlock ever more satisfied,his boredom now quenched.

Even as John herd the whistle go on the kettle he didn't bother going out and filling up his coffee, too interested now. This always happened when Sherlock did this - yes it was normal but it was fascinating as well. He took the seat next to Sherlock to begin the questioning, sitting down on it and looking toward Bethany. ''So, what seems to be the problem?'' John asked.
''Your a doctor John, not a policeman. I'll ask the questions.'' Sherlock said, being irritating as normal.  
''What?''  John asked turning his face to Sherlock, somewhat confused about his decision. Sherlock was picky but never like this.
''I will ask the questions.'' Sherlock said, staring back at John with plain eyes, making John feel slightly awquard and just accepted to the idea that Sherlock was going to be doing this session.

''So?'' Sherlock asked, looking at Bethany, waiting her to awnser him. But the face of consusion just sat on her face like it had done for a little while now.
''What?''
''Whats the problem. Please listen to the questions, and reply quick and don't be boring.'' Sherlock replied.

''Well, its my son, Gareth. He keeps on having nightma-'' Bethany was cut of when Sherlock stood up from his chair, looking down at her.
''So you mean to say that you came here at this hour of the morning to talk about nightmares?! Nightmares can be caused by many things just by sleeping awquardly, someone teasing your son or he's sneeking food before he goes to bed. Now if thats all you came here for please leave, you are beginning to bore me.'' Sherlock said, sighing slightly as he just stared at the woman.

''No, no its not just that.'' She said, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the man who was hanging over her now, even though he could possibly help her. ''They started long ago when he-''

''Just get to the point, I don't want his whole life story.'' Sherlock cut her off yet again, not sitting down and not backing off, even though he could feel that she was uncomfortable in a situation like this. To John this was yet again normal, letting him get on with it, only smiling slightly as Bethany took a quick look at him to see if it was safe.

''They are coming real, his dreams.'' she said, looking back over to Sherlock, who had now gained interest. ''His dreams are coming to life''