This idea came to me after watching a bit too many episodes of A Haunting. Enjoy! This is my first time writing a story, but I'll try.

Chapter 1-The Case That Started It All

I can never forget the case that could have easily taken my life if not for the aciton of my dearest friend, Sherlock Holmes.

For weeks we had received no letters of any sort. Holmes had started sinking down into a state of depression, despite my attempts to lighten his mood. The nights I spent unable to sleep due to Holmes' melencoly violen playing were uncountable, but I became accustomed to it after the first few nights. Finally, the silence was broken on a Saturday mourning.

Holmes was silently smokking his pipe and now the only response I could get from him was little more then a grunt. I had given up trying to make conversation, and was reading an article in the paper.

Knock, knock...

The sudden sound made me jump and immediatly I stood up and laid my paper down to the side. I glanced over at Holmes, who had lowered his pipe and was glanicing towards the window in an effort to see our unexpected visitor. A sparkle of excitement shined in his eyes that I ahd not seen in quiet some time.

Knock, knock...

This time I was sure I wasn't hearing things and almost ran to the front door and through the glass I could see the tall figure of a person. I calmly unlocked it and swung the door open to reveal a tall man looking to be in his mid forties, dressed almost entirely in black. He blinked dark brown eyes, a sparkle of aggravation in his eyes. I mentally scolded myself for acting so desperate to answer the door. He took at deep breath before he spoke with a voice filled with authority.

"Ah, yes, you must be Dr. Watson." I straightened up in an attempt not to look quiet as short. "Is Mr. Holmes present? I afraid that I need his advice." His voice showed little emmotion and he looked at me, his eyes locked in a firm stare.

"Um, yes, right this way, sir." I replied in a calm voice before leading him up the stairs and into the room where Holmes was sitting alert, almost mimicking a cat who had spotted a bird.

Our visitor instantly filled the room with a sense of authority that could have rivaled the great detective. The man gazed across the room, head held high, before locking his gaze on Holmes. I decided to to break the silence.

"Mr. Holmes, as you can tell we have a visitor who has requested to see you." I glanced over to Holmes who gave a small nod to our guest.

"Hello, pleasant morning, Mr. Holmes. I apologize for coming at such short notice, but I'm afraid that I didn't have the time to send a letter. My name is Jonathan Rose." Holmes blinked, and our guest continued. "As unbelievable as this sounds I have reasons to believe that our lodgings may be haunted."

"Haunted?" Holmes echoed, the excitement faded out of his his. I knew from past experiences that my partner didn't believe in the existence of such things as ghosts or spirits. I shifted uneasily as I watched both of their expressions.

"Yes, haunted. Recently I bought a house out in the country. The couple who owned it had mysteriously died and the house had been put up for sale. Things were fine for the first week or so, but then I started seeing moving shadows at night. At first I thought I must have been seeing things, but one of my servants said that he saw it as well."

"Moving shadows?" Holmes questioned, the sparks of curiousity crept back into his eyes.

"Yes. They looked like normal, human shadows except they would move from place to place and even walk through room. Sometimes they'd have fangs and claws. Other times they were hideous beings that bore no resemblance to anything that I've ever seen." When he said that I was starting to wonder if he was somewhat insane or acting, but the look of fear in his eyes was genuine.

"About eight days ago, one of my servents starting acting quiet strangly. I-" He continued, but was cut off by Holmes.

"Strangely? In what ways?" He questioned our visitor.

"Well, I found him shaking underneath our piano, screaming things about living nightmares and moving shadows. I thought it was the result of a stressed mind, so I ordered him to take a few days off from his duties. Well, two days later I found another one of my servants collapsed in an unconscious heap underneath the words, 'Leave here and never return' scrawled in the kitchen walls." He paused to catch his breath. I was actually starting to believe his story. I glanced over at Holmes, who was listening intently, apparently believing this man's story as well. If only to a small extent.

"Later when he awoke I questioned him about the writing. He said that the only thing he remembered was that he was being attacked by a strange, black creature that appeared out of nowhere. He described it to me and, much to my surprise, it matched the creatures I saw at night. I awoke this morning and when I checked on the first servant, I found that he had died in the night. No blood, no murder weapon, no sign of a struggle, just him lying there."

Holmes was quick the reply. "Are you sure it wasn't old age?"

"Mr. Holmes, he was only twenty-one." Our guest replied.