AN: This is the product of trawling r/LetsNotMeet before bed. 10/10, would do again. Even if my first thought to the wind blowing a trash bin over was 'SHIT I'M GONNA BE MURDERED'. (The second was 'if I get murdered before Sherlock airs, I'm gonna be so fucking pissed'. Priorities.)

Guest-:) Sorry not sorry!

Miss Belle Sutcliff-Ugh. Scarecrow kept singing that stupid song for DAYS. What's that? More? Okay! Eh-hem...IF THERE'S A PRIZE FOR ROTTEN JUDGEMENT- Not again.

Forbidden Moons-THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS AS GHOSTS. Clearly there are, because we heard one. We were distracted. Speak for yourself, I wasn't. Mostly.

Jim knows he should wait for backup. Harvey is going to kick his ass for not waiting. Okay, maybe not really, but he'll yell and gesture and pull out the patented Harvey Bullock Lecture about 'you fuckin' dumbass, Jim, what if you died because you couldn't wait five fuckin' minutes, see these gray hairs, they are your fault, Jim, your goddamn fault-'.

But…

He finds a back window that doesn't latch right and just…lets himself in.

The house is old and dark and silent. His flashlight reveals a small horror story-bloodstains, crumpled rugs and pictures with broken glass. A closer look reveals a few fingersnails, snapped off in jagged chunks. A woman's-they're long and tapered and glitter-pink.

Jim feels sick.

He swallows hard and picks his way through the small hallway, trying and failing to ignore the details-curtains halfway derailed, closet door hanging unevenly thanks to a badly-losened hinge, faint, bloody scratches in the paint on the wall.

The trail of destruction leads to a closed door. He shouldn't open that door, but he's about to see-really, just see!-if it's locked when there's a noise from behind it. Sounds like someone's coming upstairs, but…

Thud-pat-thud-pat!

Dog? Maybe it's a dog. That's his best guess for that weird-ass gait. He hopes not, he doesn't want to have to shoot a dog.

Thud-pat-thud-pat!

"GCPD!" he warns. The noise doesn't stop and a second later, the door opens. Jim's backing up before his brain registers what's coming at him.

A woman, wearing broken heels and crawling, crawling like a goddamn lizard.

"Ma'am-"

Thud-pat-thud-pat!

He keeps backing up, rambling desperately.

"Ma'am, my name is Jim Gordon, I'm gonna get you outta here, okay, it's gonna be okay-"

She screams, hoarse and borderline inhuman, and scrambles backwards.

"Ma'am-"

"Well-trained, isn't she?"

Motherfucker-

He turns, gun ready, and finds nothing.

"Crane!"

A hissing chuckle echoes through the house.

"What's the matter, detective, you don't appreciate my work?"

"No." he snarls. "Come out here."

"They never do." The dry voice sounds exhaustedly put-upon. "You've no idea the amount of effort it takes…it's no easy task, you know, to shatter a mind."

"Shut the fuck up."

The hissing chuckle again-Jim thinks it's coming from…that way? Maybe?

The woman whines, more animal than human, and Jim thinks he's going to need some help from Friend Jack to sleep tonight.

"It took time, you know. Isolation, drugs, several therapy sessions." Where is the skinny bastard? "But now…look at her. One of my finest pieces. A real work of art."

"You sick son of a bitch."

"You're partly right." The woman sways, jagged nails clawing at the wood. "Abigail…basophobia.*"

He has no idea what that means. Turns out he doesn't have time to care-the woman (Abigail, her name is Abigail, dammit) screeches and moves towards him.

THUD-PAT-THUD-PAT-THUD-PAT!

He's not going to hurt her, she's not in her right mind. He backs up, finger off the trigger, and throws one hand behind him in case Crane's back there.

She keeps coming, joints cracking and eyes nearly bulging out of her skull, and Jim's fingers hit a cord.

A cord?

Speakers?

"Crane!"

"Amazing, isn't she? I never thought a human being could move like that, but she's managed-"

Jim yanks on the cord. Sure enough, Crane's voice cuts out.

"Jim! Jim, dammit-Jesus take the wheel!"

Harvey. Harvey's here, Harvey can restrain Abigail-

"Abigail." Jim can see Crane now, silhouetted in a doorway to the left. "Thanatophobia."**

"Harvey-"

Abigail's fast, even floor-bound like this, and they can't get to her before she dashes to the top of the staircase-

-and flings herself down it. There's a horrible THUD-CLUMP-THUD-CLUMP and then silence.

"Son of a bitch." Harvey breathes, and then they both start shooting. Crane vanishes into the darkness behind him. "Get him, I'll check her."

But Crane's nowhere to be found, and Harvey shakes his head when asked about Abigail.

Son of a bitch.

THE END

*Jonathan's idea of a sick joke-this is the fear of falling, but it can be associated with the fear of standing/walking.

**Jonathan's other idea of a sick joke-this is the fear of death.