After a tumultuous year, it's so nice to be back in the familiar routine of the December Challenge of Awesomeness! Thank you so much to Hades Lord of the Dead for running it each year, and I look forward to everyone's contributions.
Prompt from V Tsuion: Ghosts
I've never believed in ghosts.
Living on the streets, there's not much time for fancy imaginings. Them's for the upper class lot, the ones who can sit around the fire at home on a stormy evening and tell each other stories, shivering with the thrill of the unknown. Out here, I shiver because I'm cold, and the only time I have a fire to sit by is when the boys and I manage to find a quiet enough spot no adults are coming in and muscling us away from it.
Working for Mr Holmes made my disbelief in ghosts even firmer. He doesn't hold much with the supernatural, and the doctor, though he's fond of a good ghost story, doesn't either. As Mr Holmes has said before, he's busy enough with regular work: no ghosts need apply.
Only once did I ever come close to changing my mind.
It was 1894, three years after Mr Holmes had died at that waterfall. I hadn't spent much time at Baker Street after his death, but sometimes we Irregulars liked to look in on Mrs Hudson, and if she had any hot chocolate or biscuits around she'd give us some. She always looked happy to see us, but a little sad too.
I'd meant to knock on the door, but a shadow on the windowshade distracted me.
A chill crawled up my spine, even colder than the already freezing weather. The shadow looked like Mr Holmes. Either that, or someone had made an uncanny likeness.
As I said, I don't believe in ghosts. It seemed unlikely that anyone would have made a likeness of Mr Holmes and stuck it in the window, but I remembered what Mr Holmes said about eliminating the impossible and took a step closer, trying to look for any details that could prove it was not a ghost. It did look remarkably like Mr Holmes, and I shivered, trying to remind myself that ghosts weren't real.
The shadow turned, facing towards me. At the same time, a bitter wind blew through the street, sending my hat flying.
That broke my last nerve, and I ran. If Mr Holmes had unfinished business, I didn't want to stick round and see what it was!