'I don't like this,' John murmured to Sherlock as they descended into the basement of the Victorian mansion which 43 year old Charles Forrester had mysteriously disappeared just that morning, followed by both his driver and his cleaning lady who had went down there in an attempt to locate him.
'It's not like we have a choice to not investigate this, do we?' stuttered Jacob Forrester, Charles's brother.
Choosing to ignore his companions, Sherlock began his journey down the stairs as he asked, 'Jonas, what does your brother normally use his basement for?'
'Jacob,' he corrected, 'Charles doesn't use it much, mostly for storage for his books and CDs and whatnot. In all honesty, I don't blame him for not utilizing the place fully. This place has quite some⦠let's say history. Some say that this place is haunted.'
'And I have no interest in rumors and gossips,' Sherlock replied briskly as he flipped on the light switch of the eerily quiet basement. A lone lightbulb situated in the middle of the room flickered weakly to life.
'Good thing we brought flashlights then,' John stated grimly, giving the other two men theirs as they continued into the basement.
'Charles?' Jacob raised his voice. 'Come on out, Charles.'
'Well now,' Sherlock stated grimly as he allowed his eyes to sweep over the room, 'It appears that Charles, his driver and his cleaning lady aren't here.'
'But it can't be!' Jacob exclaimed, 'Look here, there's no other way to exit the basement without going back up and I was there when he went down. I heard him scream, and my brother isn't someone who gets frightened easily. That was why his driver and his cleaning lady went down and they didn't come back up either, not even after a long long time had passed. And that was why I contacted you.'
'Because you were too scared to go investigate by yourself,' Sherlock filled in cheerfully.
'Sherlock!' John reprimanded.
'Well he's right,' murmured Jacob.
Sherlock scanned the dimly lit room, cluttered with shelves of books and CD racks and boxes with labels such as 'broken fridge' or 'ball pit' and the like. Standing at the middle of the room, right below the lightbulb, allowed him to have a clear view of the entire room, yet he could see no sign of struggle or upset of any kind- so it couldn't have been a kidnapping plan, which wouldn't have made sense anyway as no one in the right mind would kidnap a driver nor a cleaning lady along with a downright boring man with no particular value whatsoever. It didn't seem to be some twisted form of elopement or attempt to escape from Jacob Forrester for whatever reason- it just didn't make sense.
Then it clicked- the lack of any sign of life whatsoever, not even the odd spider skittering about amongst the piles of dusty, abandoned relics with layers of dust over them. The uncanny disappearance of multiple people in one go. A sense of deja vu filled him as he looked around the room once again, running his eyes carefully over every unidentified shape, dreading the sight of an Angel, or, God forbid, a hoard of angels in the room, their hands covering their faces. And he could not help but hope that the Doctor was somewhere near, that he would reappear and save the day. The reminiscence was swiftly replaced by a hatred that had not lessened throughout the years- hatred at the Doctor for abandoning him. A sense of relief and bitterness filled him as he noted that there were no Angels in the room, yet he could not shake off the feeling that there was something distinctly alien within the room.
'Sherlock?' John asked, shaking him out of his reverie.
His better judgement told him to get everyone out of the basement as soon as possible before any harm came to anyone, yet he wanted to stay and investigate, for he was very much fascinated by whatever force it was that made three people disappear without a trace. It was then that Jacob gave an exasperated sigh and stalked towards one of the many towering boxes, stating, 'You know what Charles, if this was all a prank, it's too much. Come out! Now!' At that, he reached for one of the boxes, yet he never got around to touching it as he emitted a blood- curdling scream and crumbled- right in front of the eyes of Sherlock and John- to nothing.
'Oh well,' John muttered after a prolonged silence as both men stared in shock at what was formerly Jacob Forrester, 'Now we know how exactly all those people disappeared. Great. We can leave now.' He moved to step out of the halo of light created by the dim lightbulb above their heads as Sherlock moved swiftly to pull him back.
John was evidently frightened and Sherlock could barely blame him. Yet there was something very odd he noticed moments before Jacob crumbled into pieces that he had an extremely bad feeling about.
'John,' he began, keeping his voice as calm as possible, 'Before Jacob disappeared, he had two shadows.'
'So? Trick of light! Whatever! Let's go, Sherlock.'
'Look at the shadows around us, John, look very, very carefully. Jacob died because he left the only patch of light there is in this entire basement. My theory is that if we step into shadows, we die.'
'Well then Sherlock, enlighten me on how exactly we managed to stay alive when we first entered this basement?'
'The thing- whatever it is- I think we woke it by coming down here. It's now fully awake and hunting for its prey.'
'Are you telling me we're currently encountering something⦠supernatural?'
'Surprise, John. And sadly enough, yes. But I wouldn't consider them as something supernatural, more of something alien.' The image of the Doctor flashed before his eyes once again.
John's expression suddenly brightened, 'Sherlock, but if it only lurks around in shadows, what we can do will be to generate a path of light so to walk out of here safely! Easy!' He exclaimed, brandishing the flashlight in his hand.
Sherlock emitted a bitter laugh as he said, 'Yes John, but where to?'
John gestured at the door of the basement, and as realization hit him, his smile slid off from his face. To enter and exit from the basement, one would need a key. A key which had, just moments ago, been vaporized into nothing, along with its owner.
Whilst John stood there, stupefied, attempting to absorb the new information, Sherlock felt something shift behind him, something that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Then he realized something rather odd. The circle of light around them appears to have shrunk. It had been big enough to allow three men to stand far apart when they had first entered the room. Yet now, despite how John and him were standing shoulder to shoulder, there still appeared to be a lack of space. 'John?' he said, 'The circle of light is shrinking.' At that, he flipped the switch of his flashlight. Yet nothing happened.
'Damn,' John murmured as he attempted to switch on his, which, thankfully, was capable of emitting a weak, flickering glow. Sherlock scanned the room once again desparately, and finally something caught his eye. It was the glimpse of a blue, rectangular object, hidden in the most darkly shadowed corners of the basement.
'John,' he murmured, 'You see that shape over there? Look closely, and you'll be able to see a glimpse of blue. That object might be able to help us get out of here. What we do now is to shine the flashlight towards the floor, making the circle of light big enough for two of us, and get there somehow.'
'It might be able to get us out of here, you say. What are the odds?'
'Very, very slim.'
'Let's do it then,' John stated as he reached for the flashlight. Yet he halted at the last second, turning around to face Sherlock instead. And the next thing he knew, Sherlock's lips were on his and his hands were buried in Sherlock's hair as they hung on to each other so tight it hurt but they couldn't care less. The kiss was over as suddenly as it had began, as they both took a step back, slightly abashed, as John dutifully flipped on the switch of the flashlight and they began to edge across the room.
Sherlock's breath hitched every time the flashlight threatened to flicker, as the both of them carefully shifted forward while doing all they could to stay in the weak circle of light. The silence thickened as Sherlock felt goosebumps raise at the back of his neck. After what seemed to be centuries, they finally reached the other end of the room. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief as they neared the blue object, yet he heard John gasp just as he felt something connect against the back of his leg hard. Spinning around, he realized that John was losing his balance and falling back into the shadows. Reaching forward, he gripped onto John's arms and pushed back with all his might in the direction of the blue mass that would either be the TARDIS or the place where both of them would be disintegrated into nothing.
