The Devil Was Never Here

Uninvited House Guest #2

A shiver went down Sherlock's spine when John first spotted the camera, or, more accurately, whatever was inside him spotted it. John's eyes flashed, and he moved with inhuman speed, lunging at the camera like a pouncing dog and sending Sherlock's video feed into static.
"Hey, no fair!" Sherlock exclaimed immediately, jumping to his feet in anger. He looked around the empty kitchen, growling in annoyance. Now he was blind in the bedroom, but the hallway camera was still rolling. He watched it intensely, but for a little while nothing happened. Maybe Mary was trying to ease her husband back to bed, or maybe he was walking in circles around the room or something. Either way Sherlock didn't like the idea of Mary being alone with him, he didn't know the extent of the ghost's powers, or the control he had over John's helpless form, but he just hoped Mary was smart enough to handle this situation correctly. Sherlock watched the static of the bedroom camera for a while, at least until there was movement in the green view of the hallway camera. John lumbered out into the hallway, looking very dazed and very uncoordinated. He stumbled into the wall a couple of times, the picture frames wobbling on the walls dangerously. Sherlock watched intensely, watching as the man who was supposed to be John Watson stopped walking, right outside Rosie's bedroom door. He stared at the wood for a while, and Sherlock was terrified that he would go inside and hurt her someway. But no, he just stood there like a statue for a good ten minutes. And through those ten minutes Sherlock's concentration never wavered, he stared at John as John stared at the door, and all was silent. And then suddenly there was a thump next to him, and Sherlock let out a horrible screech, falling out of his chair with a clatter. He had half expected John to be standing next to him, but no, it was Hellen, it was the bloody cat, having jumped down from the counter.
"Sherlock, SHERLOCK!" Molly exclaimed, running down the stairs desperately, pulling her fluffy pink robe tight around herself. Sherlock groaned, shaking his head and pulling himself to his feet, seeing that now both of the cameras had gone to static. While he was distracted by the cat John had managed to knock out the hallway camera, as if he knew the perfect timing, as if he knew just when Sherlock would be distracted.
"I'm fine, I'm fine, but we need to go." Sherlock decided, draining his coffee in one gulp and fighting the temptation to kick that stupid cat.
"What do you mean, go?" Molly wondered nervously, easing closer to the stairs case reluctantly.
"I mean he knocked out the cameras, he knows I'm watching, he's angry. I don't want them hurt; I need to go check on them." Sherlock insisted.
"Sherlock it's nearly midnight!" Molly exclaimed in protest.
"Which is precisely why I need to go, the later hours are when the dead are strongest!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, I but I need to stay here." Molly muttered, sounding genuinely sorry.
"Well of course, I'd never bring you; I can't jeopardize your safety. Stay here, alright, and punish that stupid cat, she distracted me in the first place." Sherlock growled, grabbing his keys and sprinting out the door into the darkness. Sherlock drove erratically to the Watson's house; his headlights were the only source of illumination as he made his way through the darkness. When he finally pulled up next to the house it was silent, suspiciously silent, as if the house were holding its breath, waiting for tragedy to strike. Sherlock jumped out of the car, locking it and dashing up to the front porch. Thankfully Mary had told them where the spare key was hidden, in case he had to get in during situations like this one, and he dug around in the potted plant next to the door until finally he unearthed a key covered in mulch. He dug it furiously into the lock and swung the door open, jumping up the stairs two at a time and running into the hallway. It was dark, but he could see enough to know that John wasn't there. It was empty, the doors closed, it was silent. The camera was on its side, the little red light wasn't flashing so he knew it had turned off, but other than that there was no evidence that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. Sherlock moved quietly to the bedroom, not wanting the ghost to be alarmed, to retaliate at his presence. He also had a feeling, however, that the ghost already knew he had come. Maybe that was part of its plan; maybe this was just what it wanted. Sherlock took a deep breath, squinting his eyes in the darkness, his body tingling in anticipation, in terror. He was half expecting an inhuman John Watson to be clinging to the ceiling, waiting to jump on an unsuspecting victim. He could he hiding in any corner, any shadow. Sherlock turned the knob to the bedroom very slowly, easing the door open and peering into the darkness. There he saw two figures, John and Mary, curled up innocently under the blankets. It was calm, peaceful, they were both presumably asleep. John was even snoring.