When he came down the next morning, the whiteboard was blank. He sighed, rolling his eyes and going about making his morning tea. There was a rustling behind him and he turned to see the whiteboard marker hovering in the air in front of the whiteboard.
"Hey. What's your name?"
Sherlock Holmes
"Nice to meet you Sherlock. How long have you been here?"
What year is it?
"2014."
Twenty years
"Holy shit." John felt his heart break for the poor spirit. He couldn't imagine being trapped in a boring flat for twenty years.
I don't need your pity Dr. Watson
John's eyes widened, as he read those words.
Oh, don't be so surprised. I'm very observant.
"Fair enough. Why do you keep destroying the flat?"
You moved my equipment.
"Your equipment? You mean, all this stuff here was yours?"
Yes. Mrs. Hudson promised she would keep it for me. You moved it.
"Sorry. I can set it back up for you if you want."
That would be good. Thank you.
John went about setting up the lab, feeling slightly awkward knowing Sherlock was just there, watching him work. The ghost kept writing out instructions about how he wanted everything laid out.
"Wait, you are a guy, right? I don't want to assume anything."
Yes John, I am a guy. Now please plug everything in.
"Alright, bossy. I'm guessing you were a top."
What?
John flushed when he realized he had said that out loud. He plugged in the collection of cords, waving off the comment. The equipment roared to life and John grinned, dusting off his hands and turning towards the fridge.
He yelped and scrambled back when a man flickered into view in front of the fridge.
"Ah, much better!" The young man grinned, dusting off his shoulders and stretching his long, thin frame. He was tall, too thin, and unnaturally pale. His cheekbones were sharp and high-set, making him look less than human. He was gorgeous and John couldn't help feeling a little self-conscious.
"Y-You- how- what the-"
"The flow of electricity gives me the strength to manifest physically. Now, shut your jaw, you'll let the flies in." Sherlock winked and sauntered around the table to stand in front of John, a smug expression on his lips as he leaned down, a brush of frigid air freezing John's ear and making him gasp. "And for the record, I was more of a bottom." John blushed and stuttered as Sherlock walked away, running long fingers over the equipment.
John had a feeling this was going to be interesting.
Sherlock turned out to be an interesting flatmate, conducting crazy experiments and whining about being bored. John began to wonder what happened to his curious flatmate. He did lots of research on ghosts and quickly came up with a plan.
"Sherlock?"
"Yes John?"
"Would you like to go out with me?" The ghost froze, glancing at John with a skeptical look.
"I'm a ghost John. I'm bound to the flat, I can't just 'go out' like a normal human."
"I had an idea about that actually. You need electricity to manifest, right? What about a laptop plugged into a socket?"
"That might work if we could get me out of here."
"Well, were you buried or cremated?"
"Cremated, what wasn't donated to science, that is."
"Alright, so according to the info I found online if you don't have a body to return to, then you must be bound to something else. One of your old possessions perhaps? Something you would have been really attached to." Sherlock turned to face John, his eyes filled with curiosity.
"Under the bed. There is a small leather case. If I am bound to anything, it would be that." John nodded and scurried off to try to find the little case. When he found it, he unzipped it, gasping at the contents.
It was a set of needles and a small vile of heroin.
"Seven percent." Sherlock's voice came from the doorway, causing John to jump. "That was my solution. Just enough to stop my mind, but not enough to do any major physical damage." A weight fell over John's heart as he watched Sherlock rub at his forearm.
"You killed yourself." He whispered, standing and stepping closer to his ghostly friend. Sherlock blinked rapidly and nodded slightly.
"I just wanted everything to stop. You have no idea what it is like living with a mind like mine, telling you every dirty little thing it picks up about whoever crossed my path. So, I stopped it." John wanted nothing more than to hold the young man.
"Let's go get coffee." He whispered instead, smirking up at the ghost before passing right through him and running down the hall, ducking and laughing as Sherlock sent books flying at him.
They spent their afternoons at a small coffee house, giggling and deducing things about the other people in the shop.
As time went on, John found himself falling further and further in love with the strange Sherlock Holmes. He started doing research, hoping to find something that could help him be with Sherlock.
"What if we summon Death?" He asked one day, the question falling from his lips before he could stop it.
"Why would we summon Death?"
"Maybe he could make you human again." Sherlock hesitated, a sad sort of frown pulling at his brows.
"John, I-"
"Please, Sherlock. I know it didn't go so well the last time, but that was twenty years ago. And now you have me."
"Why?"
"Because I love you, and I want to be with you, and that is really hard to do when I just pass right through you every time I try to touch you." They never talked about their relationship, just kind of accepting the emotions that were there between them.
"John-"
"No, please Sherlock. Let me do this. Let me try to bring you back. Please." Sherlock looked terrified, uncertain as to how to respond. "I won't let you do that to yourself again Love, promise." The pale ghost worried at his bottom lip for a moment before looking up at John, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Let's summon Death." John grinned, he was going to find a way to be with his Ghost.
Ghost in This House
Start from the beginning
