To say John Watson's day was exhausting would be an outrageous understatement. By the time he stumbled up the darkened staircase of the flat at 221B Baker Street, he was teetering on the edge of the world of the living and that of slumber.

While being a simple clinic doctor would not seem a career that is all too stressful, there was no shortage of work. He had been foundering in a pile of paperwork and files so massive, it wasn't until two am that he finally succumbed to the merciless current of papers and let himself be drowned in them. He would finish them later, he told himself, leaving his desk overflowing and far too much work to be done at another time.

He was asleep by the time he collapsed onto his unmade bed, not to be woken until the pale streaks of early afternoon light streamed through his window. With a resigned sigh, he sat up, shaking away the fragments of a quickly fading dream. He pushed himself off the bed and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, driven by the silent call of caffeine.

The flat was oddly quiet. It seemed nothing moved save for the traffic outside, the black cabbies silently moving up and down the street like little model vehicles. John yawned loudly, scratching his head and making his way to the counter. With eyes that were open little more than a crack, he perceived that something was amiss, however his sleep deprived mind was quick to dismiss any suspicion as he grabbed a cracked mug from the cupboard.

He turned, prepared to pour a glass of coffee when he found himself staring into the big glassy eyes of a cow. He instantly backed up as far as the counter would let him, his mouth hanging up in utter shock and his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and fear.

The cow continued to watch him with large marble-like eyes, it's jaw unlocking in a sidewise motion as it mindlessly chewed on something.

John squeezed his eyes shut and then forced them open once again, no less perturbed when he realized it was still there. "This can't be happening." He muttered, thinking he was still somehow asleep.

The cow quickly lost interest in him and turned, bumping the table and knocking glassware to the floor. It didn't seem to mind the shattering of glass as it found stack of discarded papers on which to munch.

His brain, operating on little more than adrenaline and disbelief, could conjure only one word. "Sherlock!" He yelled, storming past the cow and to Sherlock's bedroom. He pounded on the door.

"Sherlock, if you're in there . . ! " He pounded against he door once more before forcing it open. "Sherlock what in the bloody hell is there a cow doing in here!" His voice faded out as he looked around the empty room.

"Unbelievable." He sighed. He pulled out his phone and pressed redial. The ringtone went on for a few moments before being forwarded into voicemail. "Sherlock Holmes, answer your bloody phone!" He swore before ending the call.

There was more crashing from the kitchen as the cow's tail, swishing absently back and forth, had knocked more glasses off the counter. The cow tried to turn around to see what the noise was, pushing the table further against the counter and knocking even more things to the ground.

SHERLOCK! John texted, hoping to convey as much anger as he could into the text. ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE.

He turned back to the cow, who had decidedly grown bored with the kitchen and was now lumbering along into the living room. John's phone chimed and he opened the message.

I'm busy. SH

DOING WHAT?  John ground his teeth together in frustration.

I'm on a case. SH

The cow had taken a sudden interest in John's chair and had decided it was a good implement in which to use as a chin scratcher.

Why is there a bloody cow in the flat?! John asked.

There was a long delay, the silence filled only by John's angry huffs of breath and the muffled ringing of the cowbell hitting against the back of his chair.

She's a client. SH

IT'S BLOODY COW!

Susan. SH

The cow turned back to John, it's eyes watching him for a moment as its long grey tongue snaked into one of its nostrils. If it wasn't for the glassy look in its eyes it would have seemed smug with itself.

WHAT?!

Her name is Susan. How would you like it if someone stumbled into the room and called you a cow? SH

"This can't be happening." John mumbled while he read the text.

I don't care what it's name is, come get it out of the flat RIGHT NOW!

I'm on a case. SH

NOW SHERLOCK!

There was no reply.