Hey guys, this is a short two chapter fic that I wrote for the Halloween_at_221b challenge on tumblr. It's a little dark, a bit of a spooky night in a morgue. I should warn that there are overtones of rape and murder and some bad language….read at your own peril. Happy Halloween!

Chapter 1

Molly loved working at Barts hospital. Not only was it one of the major hospitals in central London but it was also steeped in history; a history that she felt and loved every day that she worked there...at least mostly.

When she had first started there she had read up on the history, awed to see that the hospital was first founded in 1123 AD, attached to the Priory of St Bartholomew which had leant the hospital it's name. On top of that the very building she worked in was over 250 years old.

Occasionally however the weight of all that history had a more macabre edge to it. With her background in pathology Molly was more than aware that Barts had been one of the hospitals in the early 1800s buying corpses stolen from graves by notorious body snatchers. In one horrific case in 1830 a boy named Cunningham was drugged with a mixture of warm beer, sugar, rum and laudanum, and murdered. He was undressed, bagged, then sold for eight guineas to a Mr Smith at St Bartholomew's Hospital for scientific experiment. Molly had read of the case with a mixture of sadness, horror and revulsion.

It probably wasn't surprising therefore that sometimes, when she was alone in the morgue in the basement of this old notorious building, she could feel the ghosts of the past along side her. It didn't seem to matter that the rooms were all modernised and well lit, the shadows cast by the light sometimes seemed to move unnaturally in the corner of Molly's eye; or she'd feel an icy breath on the back of her neck; or hear a whispered voice even though she was working alone.

She mentioned it to Mike once and rather than allay her fears and mock her he just nodded his head sagely and uttered a mysterious, 'you too then.'

When Molly pushed him on it he revealed that she wasn't the first person to sense 'a presence' as he put it. The ghost of the morgue was well known and had seemingly been around for decades. Mike even mentioned that it had been blamed for a couple of deaths down in the morgue basement though he laughed as he said it.

It made Molly investigate further though and she found out that fifty years earlier there had been a murder suicide in the very morgue that she most often worked in. A young, male doctor had turned on one of the female nursing staff one night and had stabbed her to death with an autopsy long knife and reading between the lines it seemed to Molly that rape had probably also taken place though it wasn't overtly mentioned in the documentation she found.

There had also been two suicides and a heart attack thought the latter seemed to be of no real surprise other than the fact that the victim had been working alone over night and when he was found in the morning he was said to have had a look of sheer terror on his face. He had been almost sixty, overweight and with a history of overusing alcohol so Molly didn't read too much into it.

That all being said Molly had got used to the morgue with all its little quirks so when she checked her shift patterns and saw that she was covering the night shift on 31st October she didn't really think much of it. It was only as she made her way in for a ten o'clock in the evening start and saw all the Halloween celebrations taking part that she realised she was spending All Hallows' Eve on her own, in a morgue, in an old and possibly haunted hospital.

She tried to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling that came with that realisation. She was a rational, modern, scientific woman; she was not prone to believing in ghosts or 'woo' stuff.

It didn't help that when she ran through the hand over with Dr Mitchell he commented about how glad he was to be leaving.

'Not sure what's going on tonight Molly but the lights keep flickering and it's colder than normal. I've spoken to maintenance but you know what it's like, skeleton staffing and night shift equals no one able to check it out until tomorrow. I'd wedge the door if I was you. If the electricity goes off the doors will lock and your key card won't work. I hate that system...I complained to Stamford but the guy's too soft. I bet he never even passed the complaint on to management.'

Molly didn't like hearing Mike being slagged off but Mitchell was one of life's moaners. He always had something he was griping about and she was glad when he finally packed up and left. She did find herself sticking the wooden wedge under the door though even if it did mean there was a draft coming in from the corridor.

It was almost two hours later and she was well into her first autopsy of the night when the lights cut out for the first time. In that split second when it went dark and before the lights came back on Molly's heart almost leapt out of her chest. The room was unbelievably dark. She couldn't see her hands or the body that was directly in front of her. Then the lights came back on hurting her eyes and making her squint for a moment.

She straightened up and blinked a couple of times as she looked around the room. Everything looked normal, nothing out of place but something just seemed to feel wrong. She couldn't have explained it if she tried but it just felt as though she wasn't alone in the room any more. She glanced down at the body lying open before her and gave an involuntary shudder.

'Ugh, I need a coffee. I think I'm going mad.'

'You probably are if you're talking to your corpses now.'

Molly jumped so much at Sherlock's voice that she dropped her rib cutters.

'Shit...Sherlock, you scared the living day lights out of me.'

She bent down to retrieve them as Sherlock walked in, his coat billowing behind him in a way that made Molly's overwrought heart flip flop. She was vaguely conscious that the door closed behind him and mentally made a note to herself to rewedge it.

She stood back up with the bloodied cutters in her hand and pushed the goggles up and off her head, removing them. She knew she was being silly but she also knew she looked ridiculous in them and even after all these years she still wanted to look her best for him, hope springing eternal as it always did.

She glanced at her watch and saw it was almost midnight. 'So why are you here? Is there a body coming in because I can always finish this one later?'

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively and then paused as the lights flickered once more.

He glanced around. 'It did that when I got down here as well. Problems?'

'Just a maintenance issue, they're going to check it out in the morning. So?' She looked at him expectantly as she waited for the explanation as to why he was there.

'Oh, I was just in the area. Greg's just arrested the fraudster in the case I was working on and I knew you'd be working. I was wondering if you had any spare eyeballs...'

Molly was about to shake her head when the lights went out once more. She waited a beat for them to come back on but when nothing happened she let out a small 'oh' and her voice sounded loud in the void of blackness that surrounded her.

'Sherlock?'

'Mmm.'

His voice seemed further away and gave her a strange feeling of disorientation. She had to put her hand out to feel for the edge of the autopsy table to give herself a feeling of stability as she blinked her eyes trying to get used to the pitch blackness.

A small light flicked on over by the door as Sherlock used his phone to light his way. She found herself wandering over to him suddenly not wanting to be alone in the empty blackness.

He tapped on the light switches as he looked up at the ceiling but nothing happened. His next port of call was the door but when he clicked the door release switch nothing happened.

Molly had to swallow before she could speak, her mouth felt incredibly dry and she was aware that her heart was beating faster than normal; the hairs on the back of her head felt like they were standing on end.

'Um...it's the power. If it's out then the doors don't work.'

She glanced at Sherlock's face which was shrouded in shadows and she felt herself starting to panic as she saw one of the shadows move. Her palms felt sweaty. She wasn't sure why this was all bothering her so much; she had never been afraid of the dark before but it felt like there was something malevolent in there with them.

'Surely there are back up generators, this is a hospital after all.' Sherlock's voice was laced with frustration.

'We're not on the main grid down here, old electrics apparently; we haven't been upgraded yet. The fridges are fine for a few hours so long as we don't open the doors. It happened once before a year or so ago and they were going to see to it but we've had some budget cuts since then.'

'Where's your phone? Mine's got no signal.'

'It's in my...oh...locker. We can't get to it. Let me try the landline. Um...it's over here, could you just...'

Sherlock followed her shining the light from his phone so she could see. As she walked across the room the shadows seemed to skitter and gather in a way that just didn't seem normal. She didn't like to mention it to Sherlock though. The last thing she needed was him laughing at her.

She picked up the phone and heard a crackling noise instead of a ring tone. She clicked the receiver up and down a couple of times but the phone just let out a low whine which seemed to send an icy chill straight down her spine.

'No, there's nothing.'

Sherlock spun around leaving Molly in the pitch blackness and she heard him striding away letting out expletives. She hurried after him not wanting to feel alone but she banged into one of the tables bruising her hip.

She let out a yelp and the light in Sherlock's hand flashed back round towards her. At the same time it felt as though a wind riffled through the room and Molly swore the shadows shifted around them.

She knew she wasn't the only one to notice when she saw the light that Sherlock was holding wasn't being held steady anymore.

'Sh..Sherlock...what was that?'

'I...don't know...and I don't like not knowing. Come here, quickly.'

Molly didn't need asking twice and she hurried over and couldn't help but press herself against Sherlock's side; needing to feel close to him, trying to get her sense of perspective back.

He put his free arm around her waist and guided them both over to the wall then he released Molly as he held the light up panning it back and forth. All the time he was keeping up a running commentary of his thoughts.

'That breeze must have come from somewhere. There must be some kind of ventilation system, maybe that's playing up as well. Or it could all just be a practical joke for Halloween, it's amazing how many people seem to go in for that. John once hid underneath the cushions of the settee at Baker St so he could "jump out and scare me". Said he'd seen it done on a comedy show by some guy called Sheldon or Shelby. Anyway needless to say it didn't work, I saw that the cushions had been moved and the edge of his jumper was still showing. I ended up scaring him which I have to say was quite amusing. You should have seen his face...'

Molly appreciated his chatter knowing that he was doing it in part to help calm her down. It wasn't really working though, the room was definitely getting colder. When the light was on her she could see her breath puffing out in front of herself and Sherlock and once she swore there was breath from someone or something else. Her mind seemed to be in overdrive remembering every horror and every ghost story she'd ever seen or watched, ramping up her paranoia and fear.

Sherlock suddenly cried out and dropped his phone. Thankfully it landed with the light facing up and she could see him looking at his hand which seemed to have blood dripping from a gash on his finger.

She stepped forward to help, concern for him blossoming in her chest but then two or three dark shapes seemed to separate themselves from the shadows and before she could even make a sound they seemed to literally step into Sherlock one after the other.

Molly had never been as frightened as she was in that moment. Every muscle in Sherlock's body seemed to spasm at the same time, the tendons on his neck standing out in sharp relief. The look on his face showed her the pain he was in and although his mouth was open he didn't make a single sound. A second later he fell down onto his hands and knees with his head bowed. Molly sank to the floor with him, her hand on his shoulder.

'Sherlock...Sherlock, are you alright? Please God say that you're alright.'

Slowly he lifted his head and his gaze, when he looked at her, made the blood in her veins freeze. It was Sherlock's eyes but somehow she knew deep in her marrow that it wasn't him. She couldn't have described that look if she'd tried but the only word which was seared through her brain in that moment was EVIL.

'Oh Molly, I've never been better. Are you ready to play?'

She snatched her hand back as though she had been burnt and as Sherlock moved to catch hold of her she fell backwards onto the floor and pulled her feet away from his grasp.

She slithered away as fast as she could into the now welcoming darkness though she knew she wouldn't be able to escape him for long. She worried for a moment that he'd be able to hear her heart beat which seemed to be thundering in her head as she tried to stifle her gasping breaths.

He didn't seem to be in any rush though and she heard him chuckling, still sitting near the only light source.

'Oh, I love it when they try to run. Do you know how many women I've chased Molly? So many, and I caught every one of them.

She managed to wedge herself underneath one of the autopsy tables in the middle of the room and she put her shaking hand over her mouth in an attempt to reduce the amount of noise that she was making. She could hear Sherlock starting to stand up and knew he must have picked up the phone as the shadows waxed and waned against the surfaces in the morgue as he moved. Part of her was taking in what he was saying whilst the other part was frantically working though her options in her head. She desperately needed to either get out of the room or at the very least find some way to defend herself.

She felt utter confusion as to what was happening and how but she knew she couldn't afford to distract herself with questions. Hopefully there would be time to try to understand what was happening later but now...now she knew absolutely that she was in mortal danger.

She closed her eyes and tried to picture where she was in the room and what was around her. They'd already checked all the possible exits and Molly knew there was no quick way of getting out, not without him catching her first. So a weapon then. She remembered the body she'd been working on, her tools were by the table on a wheeled cabinet. If she was right about where she was that was two tables along to her right. She took a moment to work out where Sherlock was as he circled the room, talking to her constantly.

'Come on Molls, it's just me. Did you like my joke? You never did have a good sense of humour.'

She wanted so hard to believe him but the next minute he laughed and the cadence in his voice changed completely. 'You've always been a little slut, whoring yourself out like a prostitute whenever he's in the room. Women like you have no shame. Did you know he wants to fuck you? Struggles with it, thinks it's not what he deserves but I think he's wrong. Women like you deserve everything you get and you're going to get it alright. I'm going to rip you from your groin to your throat.'

Molly had to hold back her terror, she couldn't afford to give up, she wasn't the only person at risk here, Sherlock was too and he needed her help.

As quietly as she could she slid herself along the floor until she was under the next table. This time when Sherlock spoke he was closer and his voice had a familiar kind of sing song edge to it.

'Mo..ll..eee, don't you remember me? Why don't we finish what we started, you almost gave in on that last date when you made me watch that interminable show? We could have such fun together. Can you imagine Sherlock's face when he realises what I'm going to make him do? Do you think he'd ever forgive himself if he rapes and kills you? But I owe him. He didn't die, he was supposed to die when I did.'

Molly was shaking so hard by now that she had to be careful not to touch the table for fear of it rattling. She felt as though she were going insane. She was listening to Jim talking with Sherlock's voice and that wasn't possible. None of this was possible and yet it was happening.

She took a deep breath and started to move towards the table with the body on. Just as she reached it a hand closed around her ankle and she screamed as she felt herself being dragged along the ceramic tiled floor. She scrabbled to catch hold of something to stop her momentum ending up pulling the wheeled cabinet along with her. It banged against one of the table legs as it travelled and a couple of the tools fell onto the floor beside her.

Panicking she twisted her body trying to find anything that might help her, feeling her way in the dark to see if anything had landed near her; breathing a silent prayer as her hand closed over a long handled scalpel.

Her attacker had stopped pulling her and as she turned back to face him he placed the phone on the floor besides him and it lit them both in an eerie blue tinged glow. She lunged up to stab him with the scalpel but at the last moment she looked at his face and realised that this was Sherlock that she was about to stab and she faltered. It didn't matter that she was in danger she couldn't...she wouldn't hurt him, not seriously.

Her doubt meant that even though she couldn't fully stop her momentum the blade didn't even pierce through his coat. A look of pure disgust passed over his face and his hand closed in a painfully tight grasp around her wrist until she cried out and her grip on the weapon loosened.

He took it from her and stared at it.

'Perfect. Shall we start with your breasts or your cunt?'

Let me know what you think so far and I'll be back tomorrow will the final chapter.