The wind whipped past, threatening to send everything scattering to the concrete. The candles flickered in their little caves, even with the openings pointed towards the building, attempting to keep them alive. The stones rattled rocking back and forth on their uneven edges. Rowan’s dress was long but she had also chosen to wrap up in a scarf she had been gifted to stave off the chill the wind brought. It didn’t necessarily bother her, yet.
If the chill sunk into her bones there would be no sleeping until she could chase it away. It was a known fact for her. The cold could be held at bay, but once it was in, it was in, and only different means of self care could free her from it.
But still, she wrapped the scarf tighter so the wind wouldn’t steal it. “I got this.” She whispered to herself. Aware that some curious eyes passed her way, but they gave her the privacy she needed, but it was a relief to know that Mycroft and Sherlock were there if she needed them. Even if they didn’t share the same beliefs.
The clock struck midnight, but it was a different kind of night. Happy Halloweens had been shared, the dark of the night lit by the big blue moon, and daylight’s saving granting one extra hour. It was Samhain. A time when the veil thinned and the spirits of the dead could visit their families, as well as a time when more mischievous spirits could visit. Her pumpkins cast ghoulish glows, lit by lightbulbs this year to make sure the grins would stay bright warning off any negative spirits.
“I cleanse this space of all negativity, negative energies who mean us harm, negative energies that do not work with us, energies who do not promote our work this evening.” Familiar words, and a weird bell, the rattle may have worked better, but the bell rang out farther.
The work had just started, and even after the circle would be closed, there was still ‘work’ to be done.
A cold slice of pizza waited for the cold Rowan when she came inside. “Sherlock didn’t mess with it.” Mycroft swore, which only prompted further inspection.
Always inspect your food on Halloween. She had learned that well after finding shards of hard plastic in her drink not too long ago. But it did seem just as she had left it. With a huff, she dropped into the chair and started eating her pizza.
“What was your ‘ritual’ for tonight?” Mycroft inquired as he unwrapped another piece of candy. She would have to check with Sherlock, who had more of the candy bowl? ‘Trick or Treaters’ or Mycroft.
“Tonight, it was… it was more of a ‘new year celebration’ than anything.”
“Ah, I’ve heard this holiday referred to as the Witches New Year.”
“Yep, but it’s also something special. Tonight’s focus was ‘wishes to hold us through the winter’.”
“You mean like a new years resolution?”
“Yeah.” She picked at the pizza toppings, thinking about the path before her. There was a little difference though, if you ask the universe for help in something, it will help you, though it can be a bit of a curse if you don’t put in the work yourself.
“What is your wish?”
“Right now? I think I wish I had some wine to go with this pizza.”
Mycroft got up and returned shortly with a chilled bottle of water. “Now about that wish for winter.”
Rowan sighed, she quickly unscrewed the water bottle top and started drinking, slowly.
She could feel the weight of Mycroft staring at her as she took the tiny sips.
Mycroft started, “oh you know, I think that was one of Sherlock’s-” She spat the water out, searching the taste for anything strange. Would she need medical attention? Would he be experimenting to see how strong a poison tasted in water at different temperatures? Was he storing evidence to be examples later that she had just- “Kidding~” Mycroft teased.
Glaring at him, Rowan screwed the top back on. “You really want to know?” His gaze was focused on her, nothing about him screamed ‘ready to judge’.
Rowan mumbled down towards the table, “‘change.’”
“Excuse me?”
“‘Self transformation’, you know the traditional new years resolution staple.”
“I highly doubt you need witchcraft for that.”
“Yeah.” She looked down at her arms, remembering how she couldn’t stop them from trembling earlier just trying to hold a cat. “I wish I didn’t feel like I needed it, but every bit of help, right?” She shot him a smile.
A large hand dropped down on top of her head in a solid PAT.
“Let me know if there’s any way we can help.”
“‘We’?”
“Of course. If Sherlock can help, I know a few ways of making sure he does so.” His smile twisted in a familiar way, the grin of an older sibling with dirt. The one she probably gave her siblings a few times.
“Ha, I might take you up on that.”
That was one part of Halloween Rowan loved. The part that gets swept over. It isn’t completely about spirits, but of the community. The loved ones coming to visit, and seeing your neighbors. Watching out for each other. Something needed in the dark months ahead.
There are certain times when you’re creeped out and you refuse to turn around, but there is a slight hurriedness of your step as if you’re just inches away from being grabbed. As I went around and double checked that everything was in place I could not deny that this was how I felt in the abandoned house. The sun had set and I had set up a few battery operated lanterns to give me more light, however that may have been a mistake as it just cast more shadows on the walls that made me almost jump out of the giraffe onesie pajamas. “This wasn’t a bad idea, not at all…” A little stack of horror movies sat next to my laptop so George and I could pick together, now to wait for the man of the hour. Just a little ways off was a plastic tote that I had brought junk food in. I didn’t entertain the notion that this place was clear of any mice, so it seemed like a better bet to keep our food safe.
With the silence only being interrupted by the creaking and groaning of the old house it was hard not to start talking to myself, something to break the silence and shatter the growing tension around me. Eventually there was the sound of hurried footsteps just as there was a sudden rushing noise of rain starting to fall. “Oh no…”
Careful of all the plans and items in place I went to the door to help George get in, hoping to avoid him getting soaked all the way through. The poor guy had come in his pajamas as well, throwing his coat over it all with a duffle bag tucked under his arm. His hair was already starting to frizz with the humidity though he had managed to get in before it all came pouring down.
“You were cutting it close with the storm, Inspector.”
“There hadn’t been any rain in the forecast for tonight.”
“Still, you were lucky.” He mumbled something as he searched for a spot to set his coat down. The floor had been coated in dust and other things which I would prefer not to think about when I first showed up, and spent a good deal of time sweeping. “Just through your stuff anywhere, but I got us set up right over here.”
“Alright…” He looked between the lamps and the small pile of movies. “So I guess… happy belated birthday?” He gave me a slight smile.
“Happy belated birthday.” I ushered him over to the two rolled out sleeping bags. “So when I was younger I always had sleepovers for my birthday, horror movies, junk food, and when my parents finally went to sleep-” I pulled out the box that I had so many nightmares of. Hiding it under my bed had only been met with my blankets being pulled off of me in the dead of the light, pulled towards the box. Or the time my friends convinced me to bring it to the park and while in the midst of a session we noticed a man standing out in the playing field, staring at us. Which only encouraged us to close it and hurry back to my place. I showed him the ouija board I bought at a garage sale. “Except when I was younger-younger, we always made the boards ourselves, but this makes it feel more official, don’t you think?”
“I… aren’t we a little old to be playing games like that?” He chuckled, though his eyes never left the box.
“Nah- besides sometimes you have to indulge a little. Besides Halloween, summer is the best time to get a little spooked don’t you think? All those ghost stories around campfires, everything is awake, you don’t know if the creaks you hear in the house is it settling, a mouse, or… something more.” I wiggled my fingers in a menacing manor which only got an eye roll.
“Maybe, but I’m not really interested in playing with that. So should we start with a movie? Or do we want to be responsible and go to bed. It is already pretty late.”
“Oh? Are you chicken?”
“W-what? Excuse me?” He puffed out his chest.
“I mean, I know you can’t really arrest ghosts so they might be a little too scary for you, but I did bring some salt in the tote so we can put some down if you feel unsafe?” I offered, unable to wipe the grin off my face. He was glaring, or pouting, his feeling were conflicting across his expression between his nostrils flaring, his chest puffing out, and the jutting out of his bottom lip.
“I’m not afraid. Okay, fine. Let’s just get this over with so we can move on.”
“Alright.” I suppressed the urge to happy dance lest it gave everything away. “Let me just turn out some of the lights, create more of an atmosphere.” I went around and turned off some of the lamps, pausing only a moment to make sure everything was ready, and carefully made my way back to him. “Do you want to be the one to ask questions? Or shall I?”
“Your board, you get to ask the question.” He was sitting stiffly on his sleeping bag facing the box that we left on mine.
Grinning I nodded at him, “sounds good.” It was simple to place it between our knees and instruct him to place his fingers on the guide. Thunder boomed overhead, causing us both to jump a bit. Both of us were laughing awkwardly, and I momentarily wondered if I could play music while the board was out. “Alright, so firstly, is there anyone here with us?”
Slowly the guide was pushed to ‘Yes’.
“Were you someone who lived in this house?”
‘No’.
“Did you live in this area?”
It circled back around, ‘No’.
“Who are you?”
Slowly it spelled out ‘M-O-N-S-T-E-R’.
George shook his head, “I mean really? ‘Monster’? That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Rowan, are you messing with me?”
“I would never!”
“Yeah sure.”
‘N-E-V-E-R’.
“Okay this was funny but I think it’s time to move onto other stuff.”
‘L-E-A-V-E’.
“Um?” The guide continued moving.
‘N-E-V-E-R-L-E-A-V-E’.
Scoffing George started to push the guide to ‘Goodbye.’ “Yeah I think I’m done with this.”
“George wait!” I urged him as something banged upstairs.
“What was that?”
“Probably a window or a shutter banging open due to the storm.” It probably wasn’t. “Let’s just keep playing for a bit okay?”
“I’m fairly certain this breaks a lot of horror movie rules to continue. I think we could pick out one movie from that pile that explains why this is a bad idea.”
“What do you want?” I continued to ask the board.
‘F-R-I-E-N-D-S’.
“See George? It’s just friendly.”
‘F-O-R-E-V-E-R’.
“Oh yeah cause that’s not ominous. I’m ending the game, and we’re gonna watch something.” He started pushed the guide again towards the ‘Goodbye’.
“Wait-” I held a hand out to stop him when I felt the pull. Knocking the wind out of me the board went flying as I was dragged along the ground towards the wall and up it just enough that my feet were dangling. I gasped for air as I was held tightly, begging my heart rate to slow down.
“Rowan!” George was standing grabbing the nearest lamp like a weapon and looking around, “what-what’s going on!? Put her down!” I kicked a little the few light bulbs in the room flickered with power that hadn’t been going to them before, momentarily blinding us as there came a series of footsteps running over head.
The weight of being held up was starting to really hurt, so I winced and cried out a little.
“Don’t worry, I got you!” He tossed the lamp rushing over to my side.
“NO!” A voice boomed, though it seemed to come from everywhere. I was hoisted a little higher up. A scratching sound drew our attention to the wall opposite to me when suddenly the words ‘FRIENDS FOREVER’ appeared on it as if painted onto the wall in some dark shiny liquid.
“We’re out of here.” George hurried over and started pulling on my feet.
“Ow! You’re hurting me.”
“Yeah yeah, complain later.”
From where we were there was a doorframe that let into the hallways and the rest of the house, and from where we were there was a bit of darkness that the lamps didn’t light up. From there a growl seemed to freeze George’s blood. His mouth shaped an O as he heard it.
“Help me.” I pleaded with him, the hair on my arms rising, as the sound made my trapped predicament harder to handle.
“I’m not going anywhere.” George tugged and pulled, keeping his eyes on the door way. His grip disappeared as he fell, taking in the sight of the creature that stepped into the light. It seemed humanoid, though it was more a mixture of rotting flesh and hair that obscured the rest of its appearance and it scurried on all fours towards George, it’s growl becoming a full snarl. “No!” He started kicking at it before darting over to the tote of food. The creatures came up and made as if to claw at me when George reached in at threw the container of salt at it. “Leave her alone.”
Of course he went for the salt. I finally snapped and started laughing.
“Don’t cry! I-I’ll save you!” George cried out, grabbing one of the bigger lamps and charged, now freshly armed.
“I-I’m not- HA!- crying!” I tried to explain, as the creature shook his head and backed away from George.
He made a few menacing gestures, then pulled his head off revealing a mess of brown hair twisted in various directions, “growl.” Edward actually said the word this time as he laughed.
“What is… were you messing with me?!” George complained looking between us as if his heart was breaking.
“We just… wanted a little scary fun, and since it was Edward’s birthday the other day too, thought it would be fun to have all of us together.” I said sheepishly, still dangling, “but I really would like down now.”
“Oh right. Edward stepped out and released the mechanism dropping me to the floor. He came back a while later in his own pajamas, having shed the costume and helped me unclick the harness.
“Thank you. And I do have one more surprised for you, be right back, I’m- uh- also gonna get out of the harness that’s under this onesie so I’m gonna go alone.”
In the other room, once out of the harness, I got their last surprises ready. On a cart I pushed a big cake that hid my face a bit around the corner and towards the others. “Happy birthday to us. . .” I said slowly, smiling at them with my eyes blacked out, behind them the ouija board started to levitate. “Happy birthday to us. . .”
“Okay, this isn’t funny.”
“Happy. . . Birthday-”
A voice boomed again, ‘to Rowan, George, Edward, and-” A figure stepped into the room, microphone in hand, “-Mycroft. Happy birthday to us.” He turned off the microphone, letting the speakers hidden in various places go silent. “You didn’t think I was going to be left out of this did you?”
“So all three of you were in on it?”
“A little yeah.” I came up to him, careful with each step as the contacts did obscure my vision a little. “You were very brave.”
“Will you tell that to Sherlock and the others?”
“I will- I promise… I’ll also tell them how you threw salt to defend me… I guess that means you ‘a-salt-ed’ him officer.”
“Please don’t.” Mycroft sighed at my brilliant pun. “Now. Let’s pack all this up in the car I’ve brought around so we can go to the hotel to continue this there.”
“Hotel?” It was my turn to be confused.
“You don’t think we’re going to actually sleep in this health hazard do you?” I shrugged and shared a smile with Edward who seemed excited.
“First dibs on picking the movie!” Edward called out.
George sputtered, “hey now, I was the hero, I should get first pick.”
“Game of rock, paper, scissors, come on.” Ignoring them to their games I quickly packed up what I could, knowing that I would still be coming back in the next few days to help take down the wires, the speakers, the fake piece of wood with the painting on in, and the banner that we used to cover it.
I stepped over the ouija board, leaving it where it laid, it was still attached to some wires, it would make finding them easier later. We piled into the cars, letting Mycroft lead the way. Pretty good night all in all, I was also looking forward to taking the contacts out in a clean bathroom, trying not to think about the what ifs should we return and the ouija board isn’t there.
I dunno why, but I HC child Mikah a lot tinier than that, considering the average height for a 10 yr old (which I believe is (Baby) Mikah's age, (considering the British age for college is 16 and that was 6 yrs later) is 4'5 and Sherl and John called him really small for his age. I also just for giggles like to make Sherlock shorter than John by a lot (because John is usually the short one) and Hercule... I like to think is a lot shorter (referencing how he was under 5'4 in the original books)
I also forgot to add some of the character sprites are leaning off to the side, therefore making them shorter than they may appear, (ex. John, Mycroft… wait a second, are they all leaning, looking back on it now?) So it makes it quite difficult, I actually like what you’ve come up with, however.
(a continuation on this topic)
Ah. First the age thing does come into play. With Mikah I think he’s actually 15, 13 at the youngest. He’s in Secondary school 11 yo - 16 yo. That said I actually put his sprite at a shorter height than the average 5′8″ (according to google).
And oh my goodness it’s hilarious to think of John and Sherlock with a vast height difference! Though I also get:
John aiming a gun at mini Sherlock yelling and scolding and threatening him for a stupid idea when: “… I feel like I’m threatening a toddler.”
The fact that they were leaning did come into conversation but for simplicity sake we decided to forgo it…
BUT- If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to go into that weird little mental headspace I have that I write the model conversations from and compare myself to their heights to get an idea where they actually sit in my imagination. (Putting it under cut for those who don’t really like that.)
Okay so my height is: 5′9″ So I’m going to work off of that.
Sherlock Holmes: 5′11″
John Watson: 6′1″
James Moriarty: 6′
Mycroft Holmes: 6′2″
Jack Stillman: 6′
Sebastian Moran: 5′10″
Hercule Poirot: Okay so I’ve never really had him standing while he teases me so come one Hercule, stand up. So in the book you’re shorter than 5′4″?
I keep trying to get him closer to 5′6″..
Jeremy Cassel: 5′11″
George Lestrade: 6′4″ …when the hell did you get so tall??
Mikah Hudson (Child): 4′9″
Mikah Hudson (Adult): 6′3″ one hell of a growth spurt
Jane Marple/Aggie: 5′2″
MC: 5′4″
These heights have no basis outside of where I knee jerk imagine them when I force the imaginary them to stand next to imaginary me in imagination land.
“Mycroft, do something!” George’s voice rose a slight octave as he slammed his hands down on the table. The elder Holmes brother barely glanced up from his cupcake. The frosting was rather thick and hard from being in my fridge for so long. He had taken it without asking, but that was fine. I had brought the large container to work as a joke, unknowing that they would be forcing two and a half dozen cupcakes home with me.
George gestured at the outfits laid out, the bug spray, the tutorial on making my chrome book usable offline playing on repeat on my phone, all the indicators of something he was less favorable towards. The noise he produced was somewhere between a bleat and a groan. “Hey George?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you make that noise again, but slower? Trying to figure out how one would REALLY describe it.”
“I don’t think this is the time to be making jokes. You made a vow to clear out your inboxes before you left to certain death.” He put an emphasis on the last two words, finally catching Mycroft’s attention. Only so much as to earn a smirk from him, and a massive eye roll from me.
“’Possible death’, I said ‘possible death’, you know I hate being misquoted.” I set my chrome book to restart in hopes that I would be able to write on it once it was disconnected from the internet and now for a trial run. “But you’re overreacting.
I still have time before I leave to clear it out, I just got to get more creative with my time management. It’s only a few days and I will have signal on like the second or third day when we drive to the town I went to for college.”
“That far North?” Mycroft patted a napkin, removing the crumbs from his fingers. I nodded as I continued to double check my items. Probably want to pick up some more creamer for everyone, there are enough people there who like tea, and enough that will start with some adult beverage first thing in the morning, but everyone welcomed coffee on a chilly morning. And with how cold it was going to be, according to the weather reports, I would be the only comfortable these next few days.
“Just for a few days, no one is even gonna miss me. I promise.” I rose my hand up in a girl’s scout honor.
“How deadly is ‘possible death’?” Mycroft glanced down at his phone, disengaging from the conversation. Smirking I relay to him exactly what I told George earlier.
“Oh you know… hunting area in the basement with meat hooks to hang the hunter’s kill. Fell on a cement block last year jumping in the water,” I try not to wince thinking about how it knocked the wind out of me, “only landing on my side though. The wolf pack in the area. The militant Christian camp a mile down the lake’s coast. No biggie.”
“You said they fire guns in the direction of the cabin!”
“The only did that once two years ago and at 3 in the morning. Everyone was fine.” I shrug, trying to keep from smiling at George’s increasing panic. He’s such a dear, but sometimes he just made it too easy.
The soft click of Mycroft setting his phone on the table surprisingly staunched George’s next exclamation. “No worries Lestrade, I got this all taken cared of.”
“Mycroft you didn’t.” I narrowed my eyes at him, “I have various different writing plans to do while I’m up there. Next chapters, new projects, and all that.”
“And we’ve seen just how marvelous you are at staying on track.” The smile could be seen as gentle and warm, though it made me want to throw one of the pairs of socks I had laid out at him. “So I have a few people that are willing to go up with you, please do try to stay out of trouble.”
“Yeah, please don’t have the police called on you.” George nodded at the last sentiment.
I groaned a little getting up and making my way over to him, “don’t worry so much!” I draped an arm over him, “it takes the police 40 some minutes to get there anyway.”
(meaning I’m queuing stuff up today and tonight for the next few days! I’m leaving tomorrow morning at 5-6 am pst, in theory. I won’t be back until evening on August 6th. If everything goes according to plan I will also be heading into a town on Thursday or Friday and will be available for a short period of time.)
I take a deep breath as I double check the time on the delay for the email. I hit send as I hear the door open behind me. “I thought I heard someone moving around in here.” I can hear the smirk before I turn to see it.
“Yeah, these last few months have been good, and I thought maybe, I could handle a little more.” I turn to see James Moriarty, an eyebrow raised as he regards me.
“You think so?” He takes a step close to me, his smile is sweet, but there’s something cold in his eyes. “I would love to see that.”
“You don’t sound like you believe me.”
He shrugs with a light sigh. “I believe the better question is – do you believe in yourself? You have had years to come back, years to make things better, but you didn’t fight for your recovery hard enough.”
My hands clench and I move them to my lap, anxiously wringing my hands, trying to warm them up from the short email I sent. One thing I’m finding with them getting better is a weakness to the cold, I forgot to wear my gloves and I cannot help wonder if I will ever be able to write a long period of time without them on. Though, there are worse things to need for writing than fingerless gloves. It’s been years since my accident, years since it was misdiagnosed. I knew it didn’t seem right when it was first brought up, but I had gone with it, even when it didn’t work, I had gone with it. I rub my hands together; maybe it’s been too long.
“That’s what you’re telling yourself, isn’t it?” James laughs at my expression as I turn at him wide eyed. “I can see it in your body language. But let me be clear, it isn’t that I believe in you or don’t believe in you. Everyone can believe in you until they’re red in the face, but you-” He gently pokes my forehead. “If you don’t believe in yourself then you will be of no use to me. And trust me; life is much better when you’re useful to me.” His smile twitches a little as I huff at him. It doesn’t stop him from pulling up a chair and trying to pull the keyboard away from me. “Now what was that you were writing when I came in?” He starts to move the mouse as I panickly swipe his hands away.
“No! You cannot read it. I’ve written it and sent it so it will arrive in my inbox on December 31st. It’s just… my hopes and dreams for this upcoming year and a little reminder of how 2023 went.” I can feel the heat on my cheeks as I admit this to him, but I still pull the keyboard away from him.
“Very well, then I will read it on New Year’s Eve.” He leans back in the chair, and I am fairly certain he will read it long before the actual day it sends, but I’ll take the illusion of the win. “So tell me, what is your plan?” I hesitate for a moment before leaning forward to speak softly of my hopes for 2024.
