Dream Guy

AN: So I wrote this for an essay for my English class- I had a way awesome teacher who let me write fanfiction. It was supposed to be based on a picture. I couldn't find the picture unfortunately, but the last room Sherlock goes in is the description, which had to be included in the prompt. I hope you enjoy!

A tall man strode into a doctor's office. His frame was slim and seemed to be delicate, but in reality he had a surprising amount of strength. His dark, curly hair was wind-swept, and he mussed it so that it'd fall back into place.

            He seemed out of place with his expensive coat, slacks, Wing-Tips, and expensive scarf. The office he was in was rather shabby, and it certainly seemed as though this man could afford much better care than this place could offer. His cold, calculating eyes scanned the room before becoming locked on the receptionist's startled ones. The receptionist quickly looked down and started to pound furiously on the out-dated fossil of a computer that was in front of her. The man sidled over to the desk.

"I have a two o'clock appointment with Dr. Helena Gregor," the man spoke softly yet powerfully,

"The shrink?" the receptionist blurted out, looking shocked. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Is that a problem?"

"N-no... you just seem like the type who'd get the best money can get," the poor girl squeaks.

"Listen here, and listen closely: you don't know me, and unless you're a bloody genius who can make accurate deductions like I can, don't you dare pretend like you know what I'd do," the man growls, glaring at the girl.

"Y-yes sir," the girl says miserably. "Wh-what'd you say your name was?"

"I didn't. But it's Holmes," the man says shortly. The door leading to all the rooms for examination and offices let out a loud creak as it's pushed open by a pretty Asian woman.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes. Come right in. I'm Dr. Gregor, pleased to meet you," she smiles. Sherlock walks over to her, keeping a completely straight face. Her smile faltered a bit.

"Right this way," she turns away and begins to walk down a hallway filled with a series of doors. At the fifth door on the right, she goes in, Sherlock following close behind her. She sits down and motions for him to do the same. Sherlock remains standing.

"So, let's start with the simple stuff: why're you here?" Dr. Gregor asks.

"My brother. He wants me to go to therapy since I've apparently been depressed. He threatened to move in with me if I didn't go, so I decided to go to the dingiest place possible to irk him," Sherlock explains.

"Why does your brother think you're depressed?" If Dr. Gregor found Sherlock's blunt explanation offensive, she didn't show it.

"I think you'd have to ask my brother that question. I haven't the faintest idea."

"Why does your brother think you're depressed?" Dr. Gregor repeated.

"He's an idiot, what can I say?" Sherlock smirked slightly.

"Look, Sherlock- can I call you that?"

"No."

"Alright, Mr. Holmes. I'm going to try and help you even if you don't want my help or even if you don't think you need my help," Dr. Gregor says softly. Sherlock looks away and finally sits down.

"I just want to get him out of my head," he whispers, peeling off his coat and scarf and setting them down next to him on the couch.

"Who's he?" Dr. Gregor asks gently, sensing that they're beginning to get somewhere.