Ghostwriter
As you looked up the newly rising mystery author, you noticed some things didn't quite add up.
John H. Watson
Tag/s: Ghost!John, Journalist!Reader, Longer Than Expected (700+ words)
"(Y/N)... It's three in the morning. What the hell are you doing?" (F/N), your roommate, grumbled as they held a candelabra over the living room, where you were sitting on the floor with scattered notes and papers everywhere.
"Oh, sorry... Did I wake you?" you asked, dusting yourself as you stood up.
"...No, surprisingly... But again, what are you doing at three in the morning?" they repeated, pointing at your erratic memos and scattered articles.
"Ah... I'm trying to get some information on that Arthur Conan Doyle author," you explained as you picked up the papers and stacked them on the table.
"The one who wrote those detective stories? Why?" (F/N) asked as they went to the kitchen and heated some milk.
"Well, you know how all of the cases written in those books are so similar to real-life ones? Especially with how some of them were already published before the newspapers or announcements from the police?"
"Yeah...?"
"Well, don't you think that's a little weird?"
(F/N) shrugged as they gave you a mug of hot milk.
"Maybe they're like really private investigators and worked on those cases,"
"But no one has ever seen them in investigation sites, not even the fan club. And why write stories in detail and make them public?" you questioned, putting your drink down.
"Plus, the author has already made over fifty stories, but no one has ever seen him in public. Not even the editors, publishers, or sellers. All they say is that they would only receive a letter and the manuscript in the mail."
"Okay... Maybe this Coil guy really likes his privacy,"
"Doyle. But still... Even the building they say they live in is abandoned. Nasty rumors about being haunted... People would say they would hear loud explosions, women screaming, and sometimes even see smoke coming out despite not having any tenants."
"And..!" you looked around your stack of papers, seeing the article you cut out and gave it to (F/N),
"The landowner, Miss Hudson, has called exorcists, priests, and shamans to that building, but every single one ran away. Some even quit and were never seen again."
"Okay... So, what are you saying?" (F/N) asked, making you smile.
"I'm saying... Maybe we could give 221B Baker Street a visit,"
"(Y/N), don't you think this is taking things a bit... too far?"
"No, not at all," you replied to (F/N) as you looked up at the building and the directions in your note.
"You can wait here if you want, though," you reassured, patting their back as they grabbed your arm, giving you a skeptical look.
"Okay... If this Doyle turns out to be a decent person and not a serial killer who makes stories about their murder spree as a detective and his right-hand man, then I promise I'll drop this story," you declared, raising your right hand as an oath, making (F/N) sigh.
"Okay, but the second I see or hear something off, I'm calling the police."
"Hello? Miss Hudson?" you called out into the building as you peeked out your head.
As you took a step inside, a plank of wood fell onto the debris on the floor, making you jump.
Despite the ominous feeling, you took a deep breath, kept walking inside, and headed upstairs.
"I'm (Y/N) (L/N), the one who called about this building?" you hollered as you reached the top of the stairs.
You heard no reply as you reached the second floor, making you purse your lips and cautiously open one of the doors.
"I was wondering if maybe you could-" you froze as you saw Miss Hudson in the middle of the room, covered in blood as it dripped all across the floor.
Before you could register what was happening, she looked back at you with glowing eyes.
"Huh? Who-" you screamed and stumbled back in fear, your back hitting the railing as it collapsed from your weight.
Your whole body leaned back from the pull of gravity, your foot lost its stand on the floor, and your eyes met the ceiling as gravity took hold of your body.
You closed your eyes, and before you could scream, you felt something cold take hold of your body, making you slowly halt in the middle of the air.
"That was close..." a male voice breathed out in relief, making you carefully open your eyes, seeing a translucent man holding you in his arms.
"Are you all right?" he asked, but you could only feel the piercing cold take over your body, making you shudder as your breath turned into mist.
"So... cold..." you muttered, barely keeping your eyes open, the cold and heaviness starting to take over your body.
"Ack! John! Let go!" another voice barked, making the man carrying you flinch as he let you down, but your eyes were now completely shut as you slowly drifted to unconsciousness.
