Chapter 1

John Watson lowered the newspaper he was currently reading to observe his flatmate, a wry smile crossing his face as he witnessed the man's antics. Sherlock was pacing the length of the flat, his silk bathrobe fluttering around him as he wore a path in the already threadbare rug. John sighed and waited for the inevitable outburst.

"Argh! A case, John, I need a case!" Sherlock turned to the seated man. "Nothing on the website?"

"Checked and rechecked. No requests, no queries, no comments on the last write-up, even."

Sherlock flicked the corner of John's paper, earning a glare. "Nothing from Lestrade?"

"Nope. Nothing in the paper you'd consider worthy of your attention, either." He glanced towards the skull on the mantel. "And you're back to cold-turkey on the cigarettes. I changed the hiding place."

"I noticed."

"I'm sure you did."

Sherlock gave a theatrical sigh and stomped over to the desk to check the laptop. After confirming what John had told him, he let out a growl of frustration and started to pace again. After a few moments he stopped and turned to John with an expectant expression. John cut him off before he could voice the obvious question on his mind.

"No Cluedo. I gave the box to Mrs. Hudson to hide or burn, her choice."

"No, you didn't."

"Fine, but we're not playing."

"I need something, John!"

A good swift kick in the arse is what you need, John managed not to say before uttering a sigh of his own. "Alright. I'll call Lestrade and see if he-" John paused and turned towards the sound of the bell before reacting with the detective in unison.

"Client!"

John folded his paper and hurried down the stairs as Sherlock flitted off to his room. By the time he returned Sherlock was fully dressed and seated in his chair, his attention on the group that had followed John up to the flat.

"Clients, it would seem. Have a seat." John retrieved two more chairs from the kitchen so the two boys and one girl, all clearly barely out of their teens, could sit together facing Sherlock. "Now, what seems to be the trouble."

The group shared troubled looks with each other before the young woman spoke.

"A friend of ours, Jake Eastman has gone missing and...we need you to find out what happened to him."

"When and where did he go missing, and who saw him last?"

"Night before last. We were all the last ones to see him, and...we were all in an abandoned tenement in Haggerston."

"Why?"

"Well, you see, the place has a bit of a reputation," the younger of the two boys replied after sending a worried look towards his companion.

"What sort of reputation?" John asked.

"It's supposed to be...haunted."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh, let me guess. You're ghost hunters."

"Paranormal investigators," the elder replied indignantly. "It was a scientific study."

"Pseudo-scientific, at best. When did you notice your friend was missing?"

"Around 0300. We stayed together until 0100 and after that we split up. Mia and Nigel went down to the sub-level to try and capture EVPs, and Jake and I went to the upper floors with the Mel meter and EMF, respectively."

"I'm sorry, EVPs?" John asked, his forehead crinkled in confusion. "EMF? Mel meter?"

"Electronic voice phenomena," Sherlock replied with a roll of his eyes. "They were attempting to record the voices of the dead that can't be heard but supposedly can be picked up with digital recorders. The other pieces of equipment were for measuring fluctuation in electromagnetic frequency and temperature." He smirked. "All of which can be explained without reference to the supernatural."

"I told you this was a waste of time," the girl snapped. "He doesn't believe us."

"I am quite willing to listen as far as it will help find your friend, but forgive me if I find your hobby ridiculous."

"If you'd seen the things we have, you'd change your tune," the younger boy declared.

"I doubt that. Now let's return to the real case: your missing friend. When, specifically, did you realize he was gone?"

"At the 0300 check in. We had split up on the upper level and I didn't see him when I made my circuit. I figured he had gone down to the ground floor. We use our mobiles to keep in touch by text during a case. I sent texts to everyone around 0300 and Jake didn't reply so I went looking for him. He wasn't in the building."

"Maybe he had an emergency and had to leave," John offered and Mia shook her head.

"After Isaac couldn't find Jake he came down to the basement to get us. We tried calling Jake several times and he never answered. We searched the house from top to bottom and there was no sign of him. We checked the alleys and the other buildings we could get into. Nothing.

"After we left we checked the local hospitals and then the ones near his home in case he did have to leave for a family emergency. No one has seen him." Mia shuddered. "It's like he vanished."

"Did you go to the police?"

"We did. They didn't believe us. Said he must have run away." Nigel flushed in anger. "One of them suggested we come see you. She seemed to think it was funny."

"Donovan," Sherlock growled with another roll of his eyes. "And they didn't send someone out to investigate?"

"No. But we did some investigating of our own." Isaac pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and held it out to Sherlock. "Five people have gone missing in that area in the last month. Most of them were homeless so no one made a big deal out of it, but the people we talked to were scared."

"Undoubtedly," Sherlock murmured as he took the paper and scanned it. He dropped it and pulled out his phone, sending out a quick text before setting the phone on the arm of the chair and returning his attention to the group. "Did you notice anything unusual around the time Jake disappeared?"

"The EMF was fluctuating a lot around the time he went missing. I mean a lot."

"Did you hear or smell anything out of place?"

"Ozone. Like it smells right before lightning occurs during a thunderstorm."

"Hmm." Sherlock tented his fingers under his chin and closed his eyes, remaining in place for nearly a minute until his mobile vibrated. He quickly snatched it up and after scanning the screen he smiled. "I'll take the case."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Leave your contact information with Dr. Watson. We'll be in touch." Sherlock rose from his chair and headed for his room without a word as John scrambled to find a pen and paper. By the time he had collected to information and ushered the group down the stairs Sherlock had joined him, clearly ready to head out.

"Why this case?" John asked as they exited 221B.

"Other people have gone missing, John. Two of them from my homeless network. I need to know if this is random or targeted."

"You think it's...Moriarty?"

"Possibly."

Sherlock hailed a cab and gave the driver an address in Haggerston as they climbed in the back seat. One the cab was moving again, John continued his questions.

"Why would Moriarty kidnap homeless people and a...ghost hunter? What's the connection?"

"That's what we're going to find out, although I strongly suspect this latest disappearance will not fit the rest of the pattern."

"So you think this Jake kid is a matter of wrong place, wrong time?"

"Maybe. Or maybe a way to get my attention."

John shuddered, remembering the last time Moriarty had tried to get Sherlock's attention.

"Seems a little low-key for him, though."

"Which could mean he's building up to something much worse."

"Fantastic," John muttered and rubbed a hand over his eyes as he leaned back in the seat and turned his head to watch the scenery pass by.

When they reached the building a thin, disheveled man in ripped jeans and a grimy jumper was waiting under the eaves. After the paying the driver John followed Sherlock as he walked towards his apparent contact.

"Myron." Sherlock reached out to shake the man's hand and John noticed a folded bill tucked under his thumb which had vanished when he withdrew. "What can you tell me?"

"Nothin' good. Jimmy went in there two weeks ago, never came out. Annie went lookin' for 'im soon after. Same thing. Been a few more ignored our warnin'. Ain't seen 'em since."

"Always this building? The last place they were seen?"

"Yep. Nobody'll go in, now, 'cept a bunch of kids two nights ago. They came back out, but one was missin'."

"Has anyone seen him around since then?"

"Nope."

"Have you seen anyone else who doesn't belong?"

"Nope. Ain't seen 'im, neither."

"Police?"

"The usual patrol. Nobody goes in there."

"Splendid. Well, John, shall we?" Sherlock waved towards the decrepit structure.

"Seriously? You really want to go in there?"

"Of course. Are you armed?"

"Yes, of course, but-"

"Good. Let's go."

John sighed and followed the younger man into the building. It was in surprisingly decent shape inside, and john felt a small sense of relief that they wouldn't have to worry about falling through the floor. Maybe.

"We should split up, cover more ground."

"No, we really shouldn't."

"Really, John, you can't tell me you're worried about-"

"Moriarty. If it's him, I remember what happened the last time we separated in the case involving him. I wound up with a bloody bomb strapped to my chest."

Sherlock sighed and nodded. "Good point. Where would you like us to look first?"

"I guess we should start at the top and work our way down."

The two men found the staircase and soon reached the top floor. There was no evidence of human occupation with the exception of a few footprints in the dust. One of the front windows was broken and a swirl of leaves swept by their feet as the wind picked up outside. John was glad he had remembered to tuck a small torch in his pocket as the sky outside grew darker ahead of the gathering storm.

They searched each room but found nothing of interest and then headed down to the next level. It was similarly empty, and soon they had returned to the ground floor. It didn't take long to find the stairs to the cellar and they descended to the lowest level of the building.

"Doesn't look like anyone's been here."

"The homeless population has clearly avoided this place. They do tend to be a bit superstitious."

"Yeah, well I'd tend to give any place where people had mysteriously disappeared a wide berth of I were them, too. What now?"

"Now, we wait."

"Here?"

"Unless you'd prefer outside."

The sound of raindrops hitting the windows increased and John shook his head. "No, thank you."

"Wise choice. Come on." Sherlock led the way to a small room next to the front entrance. It wasn't visible with the front door open but it gave them a decent view of anyone entering the building. The pair rummaged around until they found a couple of chairs that were sturdy enough to hold their individual weights and settled down out of sight to wait.

Finally the stormed passed and the building fell silent, allowing the two men to carry on a final conversation.

"What if whoever is behind this doesn't show up tonight?"

"We'll set up surveillance."

"And what if they do?"

"Subdue and interrogate, then call the police."

"I think you might want to switch the order."

"No. They wouldn't get here fast enough for it to matter."

"Right."

They both lapsed back into silence, listening to the occasional rumble of distant thunder as another storm approached.

"Atmosphere," Sherlock murmured and John sent him a quizzical look.

"What?"

"It's certainly the right atmosphere for a 'ghost hunt'."

"You're not suggesting…?"

"Of course not. I was merely commenting on the mindset of those who pursue such things, like our young clients."

"So… You think the kid got scared and left, and now he's too embarrassed to face them?"

"Always a possibility."

"Right, so what are we doing here?"

"Evaluating other possibilities."

John sighed. Clearly Sherlock wasn't in a sharing mood.

Another hour passed before the detective climbed to his feet and started towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

Sherlock turned to him with a slight smirk. "To see a man about a horse."

John rolled his eyes. "Just be careful."

Sherlock chuckled and disappeared through the doorway, leaving John alone in the darkness. The minutes passed slowly and finally John checked his watch, surprised to see that his companion had been gone for nearly twenty minutes.

"Git," he muttered. "You better damn well not be wandering the house by yourself." John stood and stepped into the hallway, listening for some sign of the younger man. The area was silent, and John felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Sherlock?" His voice echoed through the building but there was no response. "Alright, this isn't funny. Get back here." Nothing. With a groan of exasperation John started down the hallway to the stairs, sweeping his torch back and forth but the light failed to illuminate any signs of life. He pulled out his phone and sent a text, listening carefully for Sherlock's text alert tone and was rewarded with a faint sound coming from above. He waited for a response but his own phone remained silent. After a few moments he sent another text, soon hearing the same tone but again there was no reply.

"Alright, that's it. You better not be up there ignoring me." He stomped up the steps and started to search the area. It didn't take him long before he spotted Sherlock's phone lying on the floor next to another object. He picked it up and examined it, noticing that the numbers on its digital readout were fluctuating rapidly.

"Sherlock?" He listened carefully, holding his breath, and was overcome with the sudden, almost instinctual urge to flee. He carefully backed away from the spot and checked the other rooms on the floor, finding nothing.

John ran to the top floor and started to frantically search for his friend. After finding nothing there as well he clambered down the steps to the first floor, checked it again, and then ran down to the basement. It was as empty as the rest of the house, and John ran back up the stairs and out the front door, his breath coming in short gasps as he searched the surrounding street in a near panic.

"SHERLOCK!"

The rain-swept streets remained eerily silent as John finally reached one horrible conclusion.

Sherlock was gone.

TBC...