"Bloody hell." he whispered to himself. Going down the stairs he spotted his suitcase.

There was that bloody smell again.

John inhaled deeply. "Where is that smell coming from?" he wondered aloud.

He walked away from his suitcase, going into the next section of the basement. Just as he walked into the next room the lights began to flicker on and off.

Well I guess we need to change the light bulbs in this room, he thought to himself.

All of a sudden, the lights turned off and the room was plunged into darkness.

John stood stock still right in the middle of the room. He was just about to move when the lights flicked back on and as John's eye's readjusted to the light he gasped, there in front of him stood a man.

"What are you doing in here?" John demanded wondering where the man had come from.

The man had blotches of burnt skin on his face and random pieces of hair on his head. His eyes were sunken into his head and they looked dark as if the man had no eyes at all.

John waited for the man to answer, but he never did, so John tried again.

"I'm speaking to you sir," John said in a strong commanding tone, he would not show fear to this strange man.

Once again there was no answer from the man and just before John was about to demand for the man to answer him yet again the lights turned off.

John spun around in a vain attempt to find the light switch in the dark, for some reason his senses told him to not allow the strange man to be alone with him in the dark.

The lights turned on again and John had to stifle a started scream; the man was standing face to face with John and now John could see that what he once thought was a man wasn't a man at all, in fact it wasn't even a human being. John could see, the thing's nails were five inches long yellow and sharp, very sharp.

John swallowed hard in fear and the lights turned off again. John's fight or flight reaction kicked in and John ran towards the exit. But he didn't make it very far as the thing, apparently being much quicker than John caught up to him and pushed John into the other room, another room in which the lights were blinking on and off.

The thing grabbed John by the legs and began pulling, fortunately John was quick enough to reach out and grab the leg of a shelf in front of him as he was being pulled.

The thing, whatever it was continued pulling and eventually the shelf leg was pulled out from it creating a loud bang!

John, finally having had enough, began screaming, "SHERLOCK!"

The lights turned on in the room again and he could see where he was being dragged to. The thing was dragging him to a room that he hadn't even known existed. Then the lights turned off, plunging him into darkness again.

John was doomed, he knew it, he was going to die at the hands of some creature he didn't even know the name of he- all of a sudden, the pulling stopped and the lights turned on.

John's head was buried under his arms and he was breathing heavily, his body full of adrenaline induced tension.

He tentatively glanced up and saw someone standing in front of him.

"Sherlock?" he asked his vision too fuzzy to clearly make out what he was seeing.

"No," something whispered in a cold tone that sounded as if it was coming from everywhere at once.

Then John's body jerked and he was being pulled again by some unknown force towards the room again. The worst part was that there was nothing holding his feet, nothing he could kick at or fight against.

"Sherlock!" He screamed again.

"It's okay, John." A soothing voice whispered a voice that sounded like Sherlock's.

John's heart was pounding and it felt like it had taken up permanent residence in his throat. He looked up to see a figure standing there and he hoped with all his might that it was Sherlock there to save him, he opened his mouth to call out again and took a deep breath and then his head dropped to the floor as he blacked out.

{oOo}

"Something dragged me in there," John accused pointing to the basement door.

"No. you thought you saw something, screamed, ran up the stairs, and fell." Sherlock explained in a matter-of-fact tone. He was starting to worry for him John, his health was deteriorating rapidly as he hadn't eaten anything or slept in the days since the incident.

John was pacing back and forth at the moment and Sherlock took the opportunity to study him. John did not look good at all, he was clearly sleep deprived which did nothing for his state of mind and he had lost weight making his clothes look overly big and baggy on him.

"I did not black out, Sherlock. I don't just get "fake" dragged down the stairs," John argued.

"I found you on the ground, with your eyes closed. You-blacked-out."

Sherlock stood up and took John's hand. "It's okay to be scared. It's a new house, but I promise you'll get used to it."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and pulled him in for a tight hug. John began sobbing.

"Something grabbed me. I didn't imagine anything," John insisted, in a pleading tone looking up with tear filled eyes, that begged for Sherlock to believe him.

Sherlock didn't answer John's pleas; he just shook his head sadly.

"Come on. You haven't eaten or slept in the past few days," Sherlock said as he wiped John's tears away and pulled him to the kitchen.

"I'll get you something to eat and then we'll go to bed," Sherlock promised.

Sherlock opened the fridge door. It wasn't filled to the brim with any of his experiments, yet. Soon it would much resemble the fridge at their home in that way, but for now there were normal contents, mostly food.

Sherlock pulled out some spaghetti. Left over from the night before and he reheated it before taking it across the kitchen to John who was sitting on a bar stool.

"Here. Eat." He commanded and shoved the plate into John's hands before sitting down next to him.

John sighed before picking up his fork, he had something he needed to tell Sherlock, something that would let Sherlock know that John was telling the truth about being attacked by a ghost.

"Sherlock I never told you-"John began nervously.

"That this house is haunted," Sherlock said turning to look at John with his piercing eyes.

John's eyes grew wide in shock, "How- How-"

"Did I know? John, do you think I'm stupid?" Sherlock asked in a harsh tone.

"Well no, but I hid everything from you," John said in a quiet guilty voice.

"There's a tour bus that comes every morning and I've read the reviews for this house." Sherlock said before pausing.

"You talk in your sleep when you feel guilty," he continued.

"I was going to tell you," John began.

"But you didn't," Sherlock interrupted.

Sherlock looked into John's eyes, trying to deduce what he already knew.

"When were you going to tell me?" He asked in a stern tone.

John paused, thinking of what he was going to say.

"Never," he finally admitted.

Sherlock knew, but he wanted to hear it from him. Deducing everything had its own disadvantages. John rarely kept secrets, but sometimes he did and Sherlock had learned the hard way not to pry. He had learned that, sometimes he didn't want to know what John was hiding.

John sighed and got down off the stool to take his plate to the sink.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to tell you, I just didn't want you to freak out." He locked eyes with Sherlock.

"Remember the hound?" John asked grinning trying to make light of the situation.

"Turned out to just be hallucinations, did you remember that part? Ghosts aren't real." Sherlock said in a certain voice.

"Come on lets go to bed," Sherlock said taking John's hand and leading him to the bedroom.