Sherlock Ghost!Fic. I own nothing but the plot. Enjoy!
Giving Lives a Second Chance
Chapter 1
John Watson frowned up at Mrs. Hudson, the new landlady he'd found. "I don't think I understand. I accepted the advertisement for the flat because it was the only one I could afford. But now you tell me that my money is invalid?" The man was fresh from the military, he'd just returned from his tour in Afghanistan. He couldn't remember leaving, per se, but he knew that he'd just been there. He must have been discharged, he assumed, for he had a limp in his right leg and a pain in the left side of his chest. So he walked with a cane in his right hand and his left arm squished against his side. It was uncomfortable, but manageable.
"Invalid?" She answered him with a chuckle. "No, of course not, dear. I'm sure your money works anywhere else you please." She had a smile on her face, as if she were sharing a secret with someone. Somehow, however, John had no hope of deciphering it. "But pounds aren't proper currency here. I thought you'd know that by now. The only payment we accept here is time."
"Time?" John echoed curiously, "What sort of time, exactly?"
"Well, with a price as low as this, a dream a week should be sufficient." She replied easily.
John looked positively frazzled. "Which means…?"
Mrs. Hudson was beginning to believe that her newest resident didn't understand the reality of his situation. "Normally, each person has control of their dreams subconsciously. When the time is taken as payment, however, the flat itself is in charge."
"Well, I-I suppose I don't see the harm in it then." John stuttered softly. In all honesty, he wasn't sure what that meant, but assumed it wouldn't be of any harm to discover the truth at a later date.
"It's good to hear that dear. Lastly, would you object to having a flatmate? I doubt you'd see him often. Or at all, frankly. He keeps odd hours, and of course, he's like you. It's easier to keep track of the spectral plane that way."
"No, of course not, that's fine." A beat. "W-wait a minute! 'Like me'? What're you on about? And what's this rubbish about the spectral plane?"
"I wouldn't refer to your new home that way if I were you, John." She said with a small smile.
"New home? I thought I was buying a flat." He looked utterly confused.
Smiling, she only shook her head. "The place is yours, John. Be sure to claim your room soon, your flatmate will be arriving shortly."
Thanking her, he shook her hand, and, taking his luggage, headed for the stairs. He'd gone up two steps when she called out to him, "You don't have to use them, you know. It's just that a two-story flat would look weird without it. Well that, and it would be difficult for me to visit."
He frowned at that. "Are you implying that there's a lift, ma'am?"
"Dear, just call me Mrs. Hudson, everyone does." She chuckled then. "A lift? I wish, with these old bones." Then she sobered. "You really don't know, do you?" She stared at him now, her mouth slightly agape.
"Know what?" He asked her uncomfortably, shifting in place.
"That you're dead, of course." She replied softly. If you're here, that's the only reason for it, dear. It's because you're dead."