Sherlock Horan | Narry AU

[1] Nightmares

NEW STORY! The characters aren't owned by me, such as Niall and Harry who play the main roles in this story as Sherlock Horan and Dr. Harry Watson. This is based off on the series of Sherlock Holmes BBC, but things will be a little different. Some of the characters that will be put into this book will be owned by me. Thanks for reading!

His eyes sprung open, his heart beating wild and fast. He sat up, looking around him to be sure he was fully awake. He wanted to make sure he was as far away as possible from what just happened, so he got out of his soft white bed and ran over to window, seeing the sun peeking out. His quick breathing slowed down as he realized it was nothing more than a nightmare, a terrible and horrible nightmare.

He sighed and let out a low moan, letting his forehead bang lightly against the glass. He breathed slowly, his apple green eyes staring at the traffic intently, and the people walking down the side of the road. It was summer, and warmer than usually. Harry didn’t like it, because these days he had been getting a lot more weirder and unseasy dreams, getting him anxious at night. Even in the morning, he’d be wondering, and trying to figure out still if this is not just a dream…but reality?

Goose bumps would raise onto his skin at anytime he thinks back of it. If you’d ask him to describe the dream—or nightmare, then he’d tell you every detail out of it without any cause of problems. Harry also has a hobby, a job. He’s a reporter slash author. Surprise, suprise! Not something you hear everday, aye?

Very interesting, and what could it be? It is simple. Harry has actually a job and a hobby. His actual job, is being reporter about London’s daily abnormal events, accidents, and so much more that people actually kinda read. It surprised him at first, knowing that the first people he met in the S&M restaurant (sausage&mash restaurant) were actually holding his article into their hands, their eyes contently searching through the papers that were quite interesting. Since then, the curly haired young man decided to develope it more so his reportage called ‘Vlogger’ would catch maybe whole London’s eye. Who knows?

“Dr. Styles, we need the exact truth coming out of your mouth.” The lady in the moka brown trench coat, said and turned to look up at him. “We have been expecting more from you in your journal, but it seems like you are completely ignoring it and leaving it aside—can I ask you a question Doctor, because I don’t think you are listening to me.” she leaned over to table, only to snap Harry out of his thoughts. His eyes widened as he sat straight back into his chair.

“Uh, y-yes mrs. Lenoirs.” He stuttered, feeling an arrow of guilt being shot right into his chest. She sighed, and let her back drop against her chair. She tilted her head back and pulled her hands over her face, rubbing it gently to concentrate. “I am getting the feeling that I have disappointed you.” He told her, talking in a small voice. “Perhaps…I should just leave.”

She didn’t reply, but looked up as he started to shift into his seat uncomfortably before standing up and brushing himself off, making his way to the door like nothing just had happened. He did not mean to fall into those useless thoughts again, wasting his time by disappointing people which is highly unrecommended by Mrs. Lenoirs, the one who helps him and tries to crawl into his dreams and nightmares for almost three years now. But Harry just seems to be ignoring and shrugging her off, not wanting any help anymore.

But he knew he needed it, he needed desperate help. Even if he was such a freak, he couldn’t do anything better than sitting into his room, writing stories about his last and recent dreams or nightmares, or just better, he’d go outside and write a new reportage about the accident that just happened not long ago. This is who he was, and there was no other way—not a single something that might can ever change his life. It’ll always stay, a poor example of a life he has.