A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Twelfth

First off, I'd like to thank my very awesome beta, Medcat, along with anyone who read and reviewed. (Trumpet fanfare)

James Birdsong ()- Thanks! Glad that you enjoyed it.

Mrs. Pencil- I am so glad that you liked the story so far, and I hope that you will like the rest of it. Best fishes, and have a great week.

Rainbow()- I'm glad that you drew my attention to what bangers and mash was. I thought it was a breakfast food. And I guess a few contractions would make the conversations flow better. Thanks so much, I will keep this in mind.

Holmes, Watson,James, and Dr. Palmer made their way slowly down the corridor. They had run into several Brethren along the way, but they were easy to evade, mostly because they were trying to run in abject fear. After a while, they saw a small glow, like that of a lantern. Cautiously, they advanced towards this light.

Slowly making their way down the wide corridor, they came upon Mycroft and Cassandra. "Well, brother mine, it is good to see you. You were , no doubt, on your way to rescue us. Let us get to a place that we can talk. Look at the nice lanterns that...Watson, are you all right?"

Watson was pulling at his cravat, and suddenly dropped to his knees.

"Steady on,"cried Holmes, sinking on his knees beside his friend, whose eyes rolled back in his head. Watson went limp, and fell into a prone position.

Holmes turned Watson over, but could not see anything wrong with him, except for the fact that he was unconscious. Dr. Palmer checked him over as well as he could do without his bag, and came to the same conclusion. He had no idea why Watson was unconscious. They decided to return to the

castle and then give him a thorough examination.

Holmes insisted to be the one to carry him.

They travelled in silence, and in a few hours the surroundings began to look familiar. They entered the patient's room and pulled in the stepladder behind them. Holmes lay his friend gently down on the bed, and got Dr. Palmer's bag for him.

"Let us give the good doctor room to work, shall we," suggested Mycroft.

No sooner had Dr. Palmer opened Watson's shirt and touched him with the stethoscope than Watson sat up and opened his eyes. They were electric blue instead of the hazel they had once been. A voice came from Watson's throat, but it sounded female.

"I percieve that you are not the Brethren."

"No, we are not,"confessed Mycroft.

"The Brethren must be stopped, you know," she added.

"Why must they be stopped?" asked a curious Holmes.

"They play with forces that they cannot hope to understand, much less wield safely. They are too arrogant to recognize that they are in danger. Therefore they must be stopped. I will help you, if I can. I have no love for the Brethren."

"Who are you?" asked Holmes.

"I think you mean who was I. I was a beautiful girl who lived in the village. I was sought out by the leader of the Brethren. He told me he loved me. We spent a lot of time together. I fell in love with him. Then one night,we had a drink together. I fell asleep, and when I awoke, I was tied to a slab of rock. An altar, I suppose. I was so frightened. I begged and pleaded, but he was smiling as he thrust the blade into my breast. This is why I have no love for the Brethren."

"Why did you use my friend to talk to us? And will he be all right? Why do you care what danger the Brethren are in if you have no love for them?"

"Your friend will suffer no ill effects. He will need rest, but he will be just as before. The Brethren are endangering not only themselves, but everyone else. They are thinning the portal between them and us. Not everything on this side of 'the veil', as you call it, is benevolant. Can you imagine if something malevolent were summoned up and got out of their power? I will do what I can to aid you."

Then Watson blinked out of hazel eyes. He blushed, seeing that all eyes were on him.

"Holmes, what just happened?"

"You do not remember anything? Are you all right, Watson?" Holmes sat down on the bed by the doctor. "Dr. Palmer, would you take a look at him?"

"Holmes, I'm fine. Watson put his hands on Holmes' shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "What I'm trying to work out is this—was I having a fantastic dream of some sort, or was I actually possessed by a spirit?"