BBC Sherlock Fic: Ghost Light
Title: Ghost Light
Author: kitmerlot1213
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1305
Pairing: Johnlock friendship, Mary Watson, Baby Watson
Disclaimer: This story is for fun and no profit. No harm was intended to fairies or fictional characters :)
Summary: Mary's past comes back to haunt her.
A/N: This is my 2015 contribution to spook_me--ENJOY! :)
As soon as John saw the state of Mary’s flat, he knew something was terribly wrong.
John wasn’t overly neat by any stretch of the imagination, but he did like cleanliness and Mary had been the same way. Their married life found them happily dividing the cleaning chores which had been a nice surprise from his time living with Sherlock.
But now, John looked around dismayed at the slovenly mess his ex-wife and baby daughter were living in and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed how bad things were.
Sherlock interrupted his reproachful thoughts with his usual quickness. “Don’t be ridiculous John. Mary was obviously going to extraordinary lengths to keep her deteriorating mental health from you.”
John nodded bleakly in agreement as he looked worriedly around the room. “But where did she take Hanna, Sherlock? If she is as mentally unwell as all of this cluttered mess suggests, where did she take our daughter?”
Sherlock’s sharp eyes scanned the room but he stopped at hearing John’s words. “John, I’m not trying to alarm you,” he said slowly, "but the question should be what exactly is Mary planning.”
The messages started appearing on the mirrors or any shiny surface in the flat: "Your baby looks tasty. May I have a bite?" " Delicious baby, YUMMY!!"
Mary changed all of the locks, but the messages kept showing up.
It was Lestrade and his team who’d found an agitated Mary wandering around Highgate Park, her daughter held tightly in her arms.
She’d also had a wicked sharp hunting knife hidden in her jacket pocket.
The inspector noticed immediately that both Mary and Hanna were wearing their clothes inside out and when she clutched Hanna to her chest, he could see that the little girl’s clothes were run though with a multitude of pins.
By silent mutual agreement, John and Sherlock separated to search the apartment, John taking the bedroom, nursery and bathroom, while Sherlock examined the kitchen and living room.
The flat was literally filled with iron and steel. There were at least three sets of scissors in every room, knives and cutlery were laid haphazardly on tables, chairs and counters. There were also pins, straight pins and safety pins, on every piece of Mary and Hanna’s clothing.
John also noticed that Mary’s collection of ornamental bells was placed strategically throughout the rooms.
What the hell was going on?
It had been a little before midnight when Mary had finally been able to sleep but she knew she was going to have a restless night.
While Hanna had gone down for her bedtime without a whimper, Mary had felt uneasy, a feeling of dread hanging over her the entire evening.
She sensed that something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t quite figure out what was causing her concern.
Mary was lightly dozing when she realized what was “off.”
Any pretense of trying to rest was gone as she immediately shifted to a sitting position, calming her breathing while simultaneously concentrating on listening.
It was then that Mary could hear it, a softly humming sound.
The baby monitor crackled as the sixth month old whimpered in fear, her distress going straight to her mother’s heart.
Mary was across the room, gun in hand, before the sound of the other voice registered. “There, there darling. No need to fret.”
She tore open her daughter’s nursery door and stopped dead in her tracks.
A darkly beautiful woman-no creature-was bending over Hanna’s crib, her black satiny wings fluttering out behind her, partially concealing the baby.
Mary barely registered that she was raising her gun to shoot, her movements fluid despite her terror, but before she could pull the trigger, the creature spoke, her Gaelic accent harsh in the quiet room.
“A debt is owed, and I’m here to collect.”
John had seen Mary not three days before and she’d been her usual self.
She was handling the demands of motherhood and of being newly divorced with an ease John sometimes envied.
Despite being a doctor and natural caregiver, there were times when he felt overwhelmed and not up to the task but then his precious daughter would smile at him and he would be awed by the profound honor it was to be her father.
But now, seeing Mary, her hair unkempt, clothes on inside out and raving about a winged creature, any worries he had about whether he was going to be a good parent were laid to rest.
John was almost afraid to find out what happened to make his normally unflappable ex-wife so terrified.
And what a story she had to tell.
John stared in horrified silence as Mary talked, unable to wrap his brain around her words.
It was Sherlock who was finally able to speak. “So you’re saying that a fairy is threatening you and Hanna?”
“Yes, a dark fairy by the name of Bryna, who,” she added at their skeptical expressions, “has been stalking me for days.”
John and Sherlock exchanged equally baffled looks and it was John who finally spoke. “How exactly did you run into a fairy?”
She could see that they didn’t believe her so she answered as forcefully as she could. “When I was working as an assassin I had dealings with the fairies and things didn’t end well.”
“And you got her away from Hanna by throwing your Glock at her?”
“Nickel plated,” Mary replied.
Turns out that Mary had been afraid of a fairy attack since Hanna’s birth-the threat of changelings was a reality--so she stocked her place with as much anti-fairy weapons (steel, iron and bells) as she could.
She also explained about the disappearing threatening messages and how she felt as though she was being watched all the time.
John watched as Sherlock nodded thoughtfully and he felt as though his head was spinning. “Sherlock, please tell me you aren’t buying this?”
Sherlock looked uncertain but it was Mary’s entreaty that made John realize just how seriously she was taking this.
“John, just be prepared for all possibilities-for Hanna’s sake.”
Mary was left in the lockdown psychiatric ward at St. Bart’s and John had taken an exhausted Hanna back to his ex-wife’s flat.
While John got the little girl ready for bed, Sherlock silently prepared her nursery for an imminent fairy attack.
And then they sat down to wait.
It didn’t take long, exactly one minute after midnight, when John heard it, a soft feminine voice cooing to his baby daughter.
The sound should have been soothing but there was a dark malevolence to it that raised the hairs on the back of John’s neck.
He and Sherlock exchanged a quick look before they were both on their feet, steel knives in their hands as they both moved towards the nursery.
John pushed the door open and it was just like Mary had said, a beautiful winged creature stood in their daughter’s room, but this time, she was at least a foot away thanks to the macabre mobile of scissors hanging upside down over Hanna’s crib.
He started when the fairy spoke, her melodious voice filling the nursery.
“Ah yes, steel scissors to keep me away from the wee bairn.” Byrna looked levelly at John. “But what makes you think your girl was who I was after?”
He could distantly hear his mobile phone ringing and Sherlock leaving the room to answer it, his distressed tone evident.
Byna smiled coldly at Hanna, and she turned to nod at John.
“You mind what’s yours and remember that a MacAvoy fairy never forgets and never forgives.”
Sherlock ran into the nursery his knife raised in anger. “John, Mary’s dead.”
In shock, John turned to Bryna, his own knife raised, but she’s already disappeared, her harsh Gaelic tone hanging in the air.
“The debt’s been paid.”
Author: kitmerlot1213
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1305
Pairing: Johnlock friendship, Mary Watson, Baby Watson
Disclaimer: This story is for fun and no profit. No harm was intended to fairies or fictional characters :)
Summary: Mary's past comes back to haunt her.
A/N: This is my 2015 contribution to spook_me--ENJOY! :)
As soon as John saw the state of Mary’s flat, he knew something was terribly wrong.
John wasn’t overly neat by any stretch of the imagination, but he did like cleanliness and Mary had been the same way. Their married life found them happily dividing the cleaning chores which had been a nice surprise from his time living with Sherlock.
But now, John looked around dismayed at the slovenly mess his ex-wife and baby daughter were living in and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed how bad things were.
Sherlock interrupted his reproachful thoughts with his usual quickness. “Don’t be ridiculous John. Mary was obviously going to extraordinary lengths to keep her deteriorating mental health from you.”
John nodded bleakly in agreement as he looked worriedly around the room. “But where did she take Hanna, Sherlock? If she is as mentally unwell as all of this cluttered mess suggests, where did she take our daughter?”
Sherlock’s sharp eyes scanned the room but he stopped at hearing John’s words. “John, I’m not trying to alarm you,” he said slowly, "but the question should be what exactly is Mary planning.”
The messages started appearing on the mirrors or any shiny surface in the flat: "Your baby looks tasty. May I have a bite?" " Delicious baby, YUMMY!!"
Mary changed all of the locks, but the messages kept showing up.
It was Lestrade and his team who’d found an agitated Mary wandering around Highgate Park, her daughter held tightly in her arms.
She’d also had a wicked sharp hunting knife hidden in her jacket pocket.
The inspector noticed immediately that both Mary and Hanna were wearing their clothes inside out and when she clutched Hanna to her chest, he could see that the little girl’s clothes were run though with a multitude of pins.
By silent mutual agreement, John and Sherlock separated to search the apartment, John taking the bedroom, nursery and bathroom, while Sherlock examined the kitchen and living room.
The flat was literally filled with iron and steel. There were at least three sets of scissors in every room, knives and cutlery were laid haphazardly on tables, chairs and counters. There were also pins, straight pins and safety pins, on every piece of Mary and Hanna’s clothing.
John also noticed that Mary’s collection of ornamental bells was placed strategically throughout the rooms.
What the hell was going on?
It had been a little before midnight when Mary had finally been able to sleep but she knew she was going to have a restless night.
While Hanna had gone down for her bedtime without a whimper, Mary had felt uneasy, a feeling of dread hanging over her the entire evening.
She sensed that something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t quite figure out what was causing her concern.
Mary was lightly dozing when she realized what was “off.”
Any pretense of trying to rest was gone as she immediately shifted to a sitting position, calming her breathing while simultaneously concentrating on listening.
It was then that Mary could hear it, a softly humming sound.
The baby monitor crackled as the sixth month old whimpered in fear, her distress going straight to her mother’s heart.
Mary was across the room, gun in hand, before the sound of the other voice registered. “There, there darling. No need to fret.”
She tore open her daughter’s nursery door and stopped dead in her tracks.
A darkly beautiful woman-no creature-was bending over Hanna’s crib, her black satiny wings fluttering out behind her, partially concealing the baby.
Mary barely registered that she was raising her gun to shoot, her movements fluid despite her terror, but before she could pull the trigger, the creature spoke, her Gaelic accent harsh in the quiet room.
“A debt is owed, and I’m here to collect.”
John had seen Mary not three days before and she’d been her usual self.
She was handling the demands of motherhood and of being newly divorced with an ease John sometimes envied.
Despite being a doctor and natural caregiver, there were times when he felt overwhelmed and not up to the task but then his precious daughter would smile at him and he would be awed by the profound honor it was to be her father.
But now, seeing Mary, her hair unkempt, clothes on inside out and raving about a winged creature, any worries he had about whether he was going to be a good parent were laid to rest.
John was almost afraid to find out what happened to make his normally unflappable ex-wife so terrified.
And what a story she had to tell.
John stared in horrified silence as Mary talked, unable to wrap his brain around her words.
It was Sherlock who was finally able to speak. “So you’re saying that a fairy is threatening you and Hanna?”
“Yes, a dark fairy by the name of Bryna, who,” she added at their skeptical expressions, “has been stalking me for days.”
John and Sherlock exchanged equally baffled looks and it was John who finally spoke. “How exactly did you run into a fairy?”
She could see that they didn’t believe her so she answered as forcefully as she could. “When I was working as an assassin I had dealings with the fairies and things didn’t end well.”
“And you got her away from Hanna by throwing your Glock at her?”
“Nickel plated,” Mary replied.
Turns out that Mary had been afraid of a fairy attack since Hanna’s birth-the threat of changelings was a reality--so she stocked her place with as much anti-fairy weapons (steel, iron and bells) as she could.
She also explained about the disappearing threatening messages and how she felt as though she was being watched all the time.
John watched as Sherlock nodded thoughtfully and he felt as though his head was spinning. “Sherlock, please tell me you aren’t buying this?”
Sherlock looked uncertain but it was Mary’s entreaty that made John realize just how seriously she was taking this.
“John, just be prepared for all possibilities-for Hanna’s sake.”
Mary was left in the lockdown psychiatric ward at St. Bart’s and John had taken an exhausted Hanna back to his ex-wife’s flat.
While John got the little girl ready for bed, Sherlock silently prepared her nursery for an imminent fairy attack.
And then they sat down to wait.
It didn’t take long, exactly one minute after midnight, when John heard it, a soft feminine voice cooing to his baby daughter.
The sound should have been soothing but there was a dark malevolence to it that raised the hairs on the back of John’s neck.
He and Sherlock exchanged a quick look before they were both on their feet, steel knives in their hands as they both moved towards the nursery.
John pushed the door open and it was just like Mary had said, a beautiful winged creature stood in their daughter’s room, but this time, she was at least a foot away thanks to the macabre mobile of scissors hanging upside down over Hanna’s crib.
He started when the fairy spoke, her melodious voice filling the nursery.
“Ah yes, steel scissors to keep me away from the wee bairn.” Byrna looked levelly at John. “But what makes you think your girl was who I was after?”
He could distantly hear his mobile phone ringing and Sherlock leaving the room to answer it, his distressed tone evident.
Byna smiled coldly at Hanna, and she turned to nod at John.
“You mind what’s yours and remember that a MacAvoy fairy never forgets and never forgives.”
Sherlock ran into the nursery his knife raised in anger. “John, Mary’s dead.”
In shock, John turned to Bryna, his own knife raised, but she’s already disappeared, her harsh Gaelic tone hanging in the air.
“The debt’s been paid.”