John was standing in a lab, or at least it looked like a lab;Microscopes and Petri dishes lined the counters. There was a man was standing at the counter; he was holding a pipette and was staring intently at the substance in front of him. The man was tall and was very pale in complexion. His dark hair accented his ice blue eyes. John heard foot steps from behind him; he turned and saw another man walking through the lab doors. This man was much shorter than the man in front of John, he was even shorter than himself. He wore glasses, a suit and a long light brown coat.
"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There"s no signal on mine." The dark haired man said without looking up. When he spoke, he spoke in a deep baritone voice that sent shivers down John's body.
"And what's wrong with a landline?"
"I prefer to text."
The man called Mike reached into his coat pocket and took out a phone. "Here you go." He then handed the phone to the other. The other man took it without a word and began texting.
"I suppose you haven't found a room mate for me yet?"
"No Sherlock, I haven't. No one seems to want one." Mike said. Sherlock... That's the original owner of the place I'm staying at. John thought.
Sherlock nodded in acceptance.
"Maybe you should go and find one yourself."
"No. I don't work well with people. Most of them are too idiotic for me to be around."
"Well if you-"
"No. I'll just pay the rent myself."
"What about that brother of yours? Surely he would help."
"Mycroft? I doubt it. He's much too busy with government affairs. If I need to, I'll ask for money." Sherlock said bitterly.
"If you gave him a chance I'm sure he would help."
"You don't know my brother." He retorted.
"Maybe you don't know him as well as you thought." Mike said quietly. Sherlock looked up sharply. He set the phone down on the counter and quietly put away his instruments. He brushed passed Mike and quickly put on a dark blue scarf and a black trench coat. Sherlock then stormed out of the room, leaving a cool breeze behind him. Mike grabbed his phone and sighed, "He just needs to give people a chance. All he needs is a friend."
John woke with a start. What had he just dreamed? Was it even real? He ran his hands over his face and looked at the clock.Blimey 1:30, I need to get back to bed. He thought to himself. He curled up on his side and closed his eyes, but he felt someone watching him. He turned around, but he didn't see anything. Then he noticed that the room had gotten much colder. That's odd, there are no windows in here.He shrugged it off and tried to go back to was almost asleep when he heard the sound of a violin playing from the other room. John sat up in bed and listened. The tune that was being played was full of woe and bitterness, yet it was so hauntingly beautiful that a few tears escaped from John's eyes. He quickly wiped them away and got up to investigate the music.
He followed the sound to the living room and he stopped in his tracks; by the window, there was a man standing by the window, swaying to the music he played. John quietly moved into the room to get a better view of the man. He then realized that the man in his flat was the man who he saw in his dream- Sherlock Holmes. He kept moving around to get a better look at him, but the floor made a creaking sound when he took a step. The man known as Sherlock Holmes stopped playing. He looked back at John and said, "You shouldn't be here" and then disappeared. John stood and stared at the spot where Sherlock had been. I must be going mad. He thought before he went back to bed.