Forum Thread

If you're reading this, don't move your eyes from this book, or iBook, or eBook, or whatever you're reading this on.
The presences will know when you look. But when you're reading or writing about them, it seems they don't appear.
The shapes in the corner of your eye?
They aren't shapes.
They're alive.
My name is Twelve Witchenore. I'm 21. I went to Noonbrook Middle School. My parents were average. My house was average. My grades were average.
I am not average. I know the secret of the shadows in the corner of your eye.
They're alive.
Haha, you may be thinking, funny joke.
Some of you are thinking Okay, that's cool. But you are a small few. Three, maybe four.
It's not a joke, or a prank, or anything other than the truth.

“Good morning. You have been in suspension for nine nine nine nine nine nine..”
Crimson slowly sat up, and looked around.
The room she was in looked destroyed. Everything was dark and depressing.
….Except, last time she was in the room, it looked so much different.
Had something happened while she was asleep…? How long had she been there….??
She stood up on the ground next to the bed she had been sleeping in.
She re-adjusted her ponytail, and sighed.
Alright… She could just… Find a way out of there.
Crimson remembered how she had gotten to the room. So… Finding her way back to the exit couldn’t be THAT hard, right?
...Something told her it wouldn’t be as easy as she hoped.
A loud knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts, and back into reality.
“Hello? Is anybody in here?? I’m sure I heard something from inside this room…”
Crimson ran over to the door, and opened it in a hurry.
“A… Test subject? But I thought they’d all…..”
Crimson looked up to see a….. Robot.
It was round, had two handles on it, and had a bright rainbow-colored eye.
The voice it had was feminine, high-pitched.
The robot tilted itself to the side. “Why are you looking at me like that? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” It replied, cheerfully raising its lower shutter.
Crimson shook her head.
Yes, something had CLEARLY happened. But… Was this just an Aperture thing? Or were robots like this normal now??
...She had no idea.
“Um, would you mind if I came in? ‘Cause, since you’re awake, we need to talk. Badly.” The robot asked, motioning towards the room.
Crimson nodded, and backed up.
“Soo, you’re a test subject, huh?” The robot asked, looking at Crimson seemingly… confused.
Crimson nodded, again. “Yes, I am…”
The robot stared at her for a moment. “Oh.. So you CAN talk. ….I, uh… Thought you couldn’t for a moment there.”
It shook itself, as if it was trying to shake its head like a human would. “Well, besides that. What’s your name, miss?”
Crimson smiled a bit, beginning to relax. “I’m Crimson.. What’s your name?”
The robot’s lower shutter raised. “I’m the Creativity Core! But… You can call me Carrie if you want!” It exclaimed. “Nice to meet you, Crimson!”
Crimson nodded. “Nice to meet you too. But, um…. What are you? If you, uh… Don’t mind me asking.”
“Oh, no. It doesn’t bother me!” Carrie replied. “I’m an Aperture Science Personality Core!”
….A what?
Oh well, it probably wasn’t important.
“Well, um… What are you doing here?” Crimson asked, curious as to what the core was doing, talking to her.
“Oh! Well… I was just wandering around here. I mean, it IS safer for me back here, anyways.” Carrie explained.
Safer…??
What had she meant by safer??
“Anyways, you need to get outta here. It may be safe for me back here, but not for you.” The core added.
Crimson looked around, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “How do I get out of here, though…? I’m sure it’s been years since I got here, and I’m not sure if anything is any different..” She asked, running a hand through her hair, a few red strands falling into her face as she did so.
Carrie looked a bit surprised, then shook herself again. “Oh, I’m sorry! I should’ve known you’d ask something like that… But, yeah. Some things have changed.” She said, looking around for a moment.
Crimson nodded. “Oh..” She replied.
“I’ll be just a second, okay?” Carrie asked.
Crimson nodded, watching as Carrie left the room.
The room suddenly shook.
The walls began to fall apart, things fell onto the floor or slid around.
“C-Carrie?! What’s going on??” Crimson asked, running out of the way of some falling debris.
“Nothing much…! We just gotta get YOU to your destination, and it’s kind of a messy procedure..” Carrie replied.
Crimson nodded, running to a corner where nothing was falling onto the floor. “Uh.. Okay?”
Her mind was racing with questions.
Where was she going? What had happened to Aperture while she was asleep, anyways?
“Crimson!! Do you see that just up ahead?”
Crimson jumped, startled by Carrie’s voice, and snapping out of her current thoughts. “AH!! O-Oh, uh…. Yeah.. Why?”
“Well, you’re going to go in there okay?” Carrie asked.
Crimson nodded. “Okay. ….Um… Why is the wall broken?”
Carrie paused. “Oh.. That was just…. Another core. He, um… Well, I’m not exactly sure what happened to him, or what he did, so I can’t really tell you much. I think he was trying to escape with another test subject?” She explained, seeming confused by her own explanation.
“Alright..?” Crimson replied.
The room came to a stop, and Carrie came back in.
“Well… You’ll have to get going now. Um… I should warn you about a few things, though.” She said, sounding slight afraid.
“...Warn me..? About what?” Crimson asked, feeling uneasy by the tone in Carrie’s voice.
“Well, you see… We’re not exactly alone here… There’s, uh… someone watching over the whole facility, mostly the test chambers.. And… She’s not exactly the nicest… But… When you go into the test chamber, She might see you and if She does… you shouldn’t - In ANY circumstance - tell her about me, how you got to the test chamber, or the fact that we’re trying to escape.” Carrie instructed.
Crimson shook her head. “Wait what? Why?”
Something - Especially the worried look Carrie had - told her the answer wouldn’t be very pleasant.
“Well, you see… If you DO.. We could both be in SERIOUS trouble…” Carrie answered, her voice beginning to trail off.
Crimson nodded, slowly. “Oh….”
“Also, if She tries to upset you… Don’t let her. Alright?” Carrie added, quickly.
“Alright..” Crimson replied.
This whole talk…. It made Crimson worried. Worried to the point of feeling as if she was about to be sick.
Carrie’s lower shutter raised. “Well, enough with the pessimism! You get out there, and I’ll meet with you later!”
Crimson gave her a half-hearted smile, and nodded. “Okay… See you later, then.”
Crimson turned, and walked through some plants, and the top of a glass box.
She took a deep breath.
‘What’s the good in being scared now?’ She thought to herself.
Crimson carefully fell through the hole in the top of the glass box, and looked around.
Plants had over-run the room, shattered glass was on the floor, and everything looked as if it hadn’t been touched in years.
There was an orange oval-shaped hole in the wall, and a blue one outside the room, the two showing what was in front of the other.
‘Must be those portal I heard about before….’
She carefully walked through the portal, and stopped halfway through.
She could see herself inside the room, staring at the portal, her light blue eyes wide in shock.
Crimson shook her head, and stepped through the portal.
A lit up sign on the wall read ‘00’, and has several symbols on it.
She turned away, and walked down a hallway, which was overrun with plants like the glass box.
A door opened, revealing another room that looked similar to the hallway, which contained a tube, and a large red button on the floor, with blue dots in front of it, leading to another door, and a security camera, which stared down at the floor.
A gray box with a blue circle around the Aperture Science logo fell out of the tube.
Crimson walked up to it, and picked it up.
She walked over to the button, and carefully set the cube on it.
The dots turned yellow, the door opened, and the room shook.
A soft beep echoed through the room.
“Hello. Who might you be?” A calm, robotic voice asked.
Crimson looked at the security camera, which was now aimed directly at her.
This had to be the person Carrie warned her about.
“....Crimson.” She answered.
“That’s an… Interesting name. Crimson.. How exactly did you get here?”
Crimson froze.
“Uh…”

Let me clarify: I used to not believe in ghosts. now, I'm not so sure
Like any normal person, I'm scared of the dark, since, y'know, ax murderers, creepy kidnappers, and not to mention, zombies (which definitely do not count as ghosts, I tell you!). Most people are afraid of that stuff, but don't really believe in it.
Well, over the past two years I have lived in my house, I have come to the conclusion that my house (or at the very least, my basement) is unequivocally haunted.
Let me give you a layout of the setting of all these creepy occurrences. Of course, it wouldn't be a horror story if it didn't happen in a basement, am I right? So, anyways, the stairs to the basement basically lead you to a wall, where you can take a left or a right. The right will lead you into our cluttered storage room (which is not important in this story) and the left will take you to the main basement. There's a small family area with a large, ancient TV flanked by two bookshelves which are parts of the wall. A large L-shaped couch is set up in front of it, with a round ottoman sitting in the middle.
Behind this, we have my sister's and my little area. Two comfy seats, two beanbags, one TV with a WiiU (I know, I'm totally lame), and a drawing area. Next to our little area is the bar, though we don't use it explicitly for that purpose, of course. It's more of a hey-we-are-going-to-need-this-soon-but-don't-want-to-leave-it-laying-around-in-the-open kind of space. Our printer/scanner is also there. Directly over the counter where the printer is located, there is a small space between the Wii-U TV and the door to the bathroom, which everyone hates, since the floor is always cold, and it always seems to have a small infestation of centipedes/spiders. Delightful, I know.

Anywho, the first story:
Whispers and Red Stuff
My sister and I were downstairs, both of us feeling creeped out. I know it's a cliche to feel scared just before something spooky happens, but I have discovered how true this trope is. I was printing out my summer math packet, and my little sister was downstairs with me because I have been scared of going in the basement alone since her friends tried to curse the bathroom with the Bloody Mary curse (oh, yeah, forgot to mention that. They didn't do it right, mind you).
Anyways, I'm sitting there, printing my 16+ page math packet while my sister pokes around at the art table. I'm almost done, finishing up on the last four to five pages, when my sister says, "Uh... Lucy...?" (my real name whoops)
"Yeah, T?"
"Look at this." The way she says it, I know that she found something strange.
She comes over, and in her hand is the head of one of her old projects.
Let me explain this really quickly. This 'project' was part of one of her book reports. She had to make a clay model of her favorite character. On the day that the teacher handed back the models, she was absent, and I had to bring it back. On the bus ride home, it kinda fell apart. So, it wasn't scary that it was only the head of her model.
The scary part was that there was something that looked an awful lot like blood all over the part where the neck would have been.
We both stared at each other, and I tried to come up with some good explanations as to how that happened. I couldn't come up with anything.
As I was grabbing the still-warm pages from the printer, my sister and I both froze. Whispers coursed through the air, and fear filled my mind. She and I, without so much as a glance at each other, sprinted out of there like we were being chased by the devil himself, thundering up the stairs faster than I think I've ever run before.
When we got out of reach of the "demon's" clutches, we quickly realized that the 'whispers' was actually my phone--I had left it playing music upstairs, and it was soft enough from downstairs to be mistaken for the quiet whispering of the dead.
I still couldn't come up with an explanation for the red stuff, though.
Story two:
The Reaching Hand
This actually didn't happen to me, but my sister. However, she's told me the story so many times that I think I can describe it accurately to you...
She and her friends were having a party downstairs, in the living space. Both of her friends brought their phones (I mean, this is the 21st century). One set up her phone to her flashlight, setting it in the annoying flash-darkness-flash-darkness setting that mimicked a strobe light. The other set up music. Basically, they had a dance party in the basement.
My sister was dancing, when she glanced at the bathroom door. A black, shadowy hand snaked out, pulling the door shut. Terrified, she told her friends that she was too tired to dance, and she sat down on the couch, unable to process what she just saw. Later, she said that it was probably just a hallucination caused by the flashing lights, but she didn't seem too sure...
The third and final story.
The Wraith
This happened to me today. It might feel like the least scary, but to me, it was terrifying, just because I was only a few feet away from what I saw.
I was scanning in some of my traditional art work to compile a Sta.sh folder of examples (I only ended up scanning in just three, because it was my first time, and I messed up. After that, I got in three, and then had this experience, decided I'm not going to be that idiot in the horror movie that stays where the paranormal activity occurs, and walked away), so I was in the bar area. My sketchbook is a little bulky, so scanning these drawings in was slow progress, especially since my first five or so I didn't realize I was scanning in as PDFs, not JPGs.
Anyways, I was staring at my computer, when, at the top of my vision, I saw one of my sisters walk silently past, headed towards the supposedly haunted bathroom. I glanced up to see which one it was, but there was no one there. Instantly, I was a little freaked out. At first, I wanted to stay down a bit longer to scan a few more drawings in, but I ultimately decided that I was too spooked to do so, so I left.

You can chalk these stories up to anything. You can agree that, yes, my basement is 100% haunted, or you could agree with these explanations.
Story One) For the red stuff, I literally realized this I was typing it up. It happened again, with an orange rabbit piece for a board game that my little sister and I made. It was covered in a sticky red substance, everywhere.
When we make our orange clay, since we don't buy the sets of multi-color clay, just the cheap white ones, we dye it using our markers. My sister's figurine was, you guessed it, dyed with orange marker. Perhaps the marker condensed where the glue once was, creating a light red, sticky substance.
Of course, the whispers just came from my phone, as was previously explained.
Story Two) Flickering lights are known to cause headaches, seizures, and hallucinations. That coupled with the fact that she and I both associate that bathroom with terrifying curses, this incident could be chalked up to an illusion.
Story Three) I was staring at a screen, and I saw it out of the corner of my eye. It could have been anything, a trick of the light, a passing shadow thrown in by a window, or, like my sister, I could have hallucinated it.

One thing's certain though:

I definitely believe in ghosts now.

The Two Detectives – Chapter 1


London, England, early morning, about 5:30. All the residents of Baker Street were asleep, or getting up groggily to traipse off to work. Normal people leading normal lives. Growing up, getting jobs, marrying, having kids. Growing old, getting ill, eventually dying. So mundane. So… boring.

Yet there was one house whose light had been on all night. One flat, actually. One flat that contained the world’s best and only consulting Detective and his companion.

Sherlock Holmes was lying down on the sofa in the flat he shared with his friend and companion, John Watson. Various chemicals were bubbling away in the kitchen dining room area, as per norm. He had been up all night trying to create an efficient substitute for the nicotine patches that John had confiscated earlier that week, apparently because “You have three patches on nearly 24/7 lately. You’re stopping for a week, then your only allowed one a day.” Hmph. Since when did he listen to John apart from at a crime scene? Stupid…

Out of the blue, a grumbling noise quietly emerged, signalling that John had awoken. Sherlock checked the clock. 5:50. Unusually early for John. The consulting detective jumped up from the sofa and quickly covered his notes on recreating nicotine and ran back to the sofa, laying down once again and pretending to sleep, just as the doctor’s figure appeared in the doorway. “Sherlock?” he whispered, unknowing that his friend was faking his slumber. Sherlock “groggily” opened a piercing blue eye. “Hmmm?” He mumbled, internally smirking. Even though John had seen him act in front of people before, he couldn’t see through this… “You were up all night concocting something weren’t you.” Dammit. Sherlock got off the sofa, standing in front of his friend.
“Tea?”
“Sure.”
“Good.”
The detective stalked off to the kitchen, hiding his notes and turning on the kettle.

A few minutes later, both housemates were sitting in their respective chairs and watching crap telly with a steaming mug of tea in hand. “NO! No, that’s wrong! They’ve got the entire case wrong John!” Sherlock yelled at the screen, annoyed at a crime scene show. “Mm—OK. That’s enough crap telly for you.” John decided, getting up and going back to his room to get changed. Sherlock picked up a book he was currently trying to read, then put it down. “Boring.” He muttered, yet as soon as he did so, his phone began to buzz excitedly. The detective’s blue eyes lit up and he snatched the phone up, holding it to his ear.
“Sherlock Holmes?” He asked as he pressed the correct button to pick up the call.
“Sherlock, we have a pretty good case over here. Can you come over?” Chief Inspector Lestrade’s voice cracked over the phone.
“Give me the address, I’ll be over in an hour.”
“Ok. Seriously, you’re going to love this.”

Lestrade hung up after rattling off a postcode and confirming that the detective and doctor would be there in an hour. Sherlock ran up the stairs to Johns lodging and smartly rapped on the door.
"John? We have a case!"
"Oh thank god. I don't want you to start shooting the wall again."
"That was one time. Also, can I please have a single nicotine patch to help me concentrate?"
"No."
"Bollocks. Anyway, one hour Watson. I'll meet you outside when your ready."
"Fine."

Sherlock then ran back to his room, quickly changed into non crumpled clothes and found his gloves.

Mere minutes later, the consulting detective was leaning against the brick wall of 221b, looking for all the world like some emo teen. Quickly turning up the collar of his coat as the doctor emerged from the building and hailed a taxi.

Once inside the cab, Sherlock pulled out his phone and swiped through the pictures that Lestrade had sent him of the case. "What have we got then?" John asked, peering at the small screen in his friend's hand.
"Seems like a string of murders, all connected somehow..." the detective deduced.
"The great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know how a string of murders are connected? I never thought I'd see the day!" John laughed as Sherlock shot him a dark look.
"Of course I can't, I can't deduce anything with just a few photos." Sherlock pouted, as the cab came to a stop in front of a set of flats. Both men got out, paid the cabby and were met by the sight of Chief Inspector Lestrade walking up to them, a slightly annoyed look plastered on his face.
"You're late."
"Traffic was awful. Shall we get on with it?"
"We're waiting for one more."
"Who?" John asked as Sherlock and Lestrade conversed.
"New forensics girl. Helped us out a lot if you refuse our cases. She wants to get out more, so Anderson's now on back up if she's ill."
"Thank God for that." Sherlock muttered.
"Doesn't mean I can't help in other ways just because I'm 'off duty'" a snarky voice emanated from inside the building, and Sherlock groaned.

A black cab pulled up next to the trio, and a ((h/c)) haired girl clambered out. She paid the driver and straightened her ponytail before walking up to the three men. As she did, Sherlock did the one thing he could do at this point.

Deduce

Ears: Pierced, one on left, two on right
Either of own will or to match with someone.

Hands: Paint under nails
Obviously artist in spare time.

Fingers: Tan line around finger.
Most likely a ring. Probably engagement.

Sherlock continued his deductions and spoke up. "You own a small flat in north London, and live alone, but you're engaged or promised to someone. You live with a small pet, most likely a cat, and play an instrument, probably piano. Part of the team for three months and enjoy work, but hate some colleagues. Paint in your spare time. ((Left/Right)) handed, judging from the small callouses. So..." The detective said to you, eyes calculating.

You raised an eyebrow, then smiled. "Haha! You really do scan people. Anyway, only one thing wrong. The tan line on my hand is actually from my mother's ring, which is currently being repaired." You smiled at the detective. "((First name|Last name)). Nice to meet you Mr Holmes." You said, extending a hand.
"Sherlock. Likewise."
"Shall we go in?"
"My thoughts exactly."

The two detectives entered the building, John and Lestrade following.
"My god. It's a match made in heaven!" Lestrade joked to John, who stifled a laugh.

After climbing a few sets of stairs, Lestrade directed them into a room buzzing with activity. You approached the body, surveying the area. A man lay dead in front of you, a gun nearby and a halo of blood around his head. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted something that the team had failed to see. You bent to pick it up as Sherlock, John and Lestrade conversed.
"What have we got then?"
"Seems to be a suicide. Man's been identified, Alan Wright. Perfectly normal, banker. No depression as far as we know from his family."
"Hmm."

"Boys? I found something." You said to the trio of men, holding up a small cassette tape. You pressed the play button. A man's voice echoed from the tape.
"I have nothing left to live for. My life is pointless. I'm going to end it all. God I just want to end it." The recording finished with a gun shot being heard. Your ((e/c)) eyes met with Sherlock's blue ones. You knew what he was thinking, it was running though your head at the same time.
"It wasn't suicide." You both said at the same time.
"Wait, how?" John asked the two, bewildered.
"It's obvious isn't it? If he committed suicide, how did he rewind the tape?"
"Plus, the gun wound and the gun was left on the right side of him. He's left handed, so unless he was a contortionist, it would've been pretty hard to shoot himself." You finished Sherlock's sentence, an he looked at you, impressed someone was finally on it on Lestrade's team.
"Ok, now deduction time." He muttered, scanning the body as you did the same.

Expensive suit - Well, obviously, he's a banker.
Left handed - You know this ((L/N)), you can do better!
Ring on left hand - Married. His family's most likely devastated, poor sod.
Legs - Hang on... small splash patterns on his trouser leg, as if he was towing a suitcase behind him.

You told Sherlock your findings, which earned you another impressed look.
"Who would want to kill a poor old sod like this one though?"
"Ooo... look!" Sherlock pointed something out to you and John, who had joined you in crouching around the body.
"The ring. Dirtier on the outside than on the inside." You said, spotting it.
"Which means..."
"String of lovers/ Unhappy marriage." John said, remembering the first case he went on with Sherlock.
"Exactly. Now it's a simple case of who dunnit." You said, laughing slightly.
"Wait, hang on. Lestrade, you said this was a tring of murders. So whoever killed this guy was either an accomplice or the same person who killed the others." John reasoned, still vaguely confused.
"Yes. ((Y/N)), you worked on the other cases. What happened?"
Sherlock asked, looking at you.
"Umm, two ladies out for a drink, one drinks five iced teas the other one, lady who drank one died from poisoning from the ice and the waiter was arrested. And... oh! A guy was found dead on a Sunday and the maid was arrested for murder as she said she was getting the mail. No post on Sundays. Maid = Murderer. But both were arrested. So that means that..." you trailed off, thinking.
Sherlock looked at you.
"They're all working for the same person." He said, smiling slightly at your reasoning. The smile quickly turned to a pained frown. A painful headache raced through his head, and he stood up, leaning against the wall. Damn you, John, damn you.A small packet landed near his foot. It contained three large nicotine patches. He looked up. You rolled up your sleeve as if to scratch your arm, revealing three patches on your fore arm, then put a finger to your lips and winked. He smiled at you, a genuine smile, then quickly applied them when John wasn't looking.

A bond had formed between the two detectives. One that would be tested repeatedly in the next few days. Who would test them? It's someone you all know. Someone you love to hate. The one known as 'M'.



The Two Detectives – Chapter 2
 
It had been a few weeks since you met Sherlock and John and solved the case of Cassette and Gun (John’s name for it on his blog) as the wife had found out her husband was cheating on her and forced him to say those things before shooting him. Now you blew your ((h/c)) hair out of your face as you climbed out of the black London cab into an even blacker London day. The heavens were open and chucking it down. You quickly ran across the street in the pouring rain as you mentally cursed yourself for not having an umbrella.
As you reached the front door of 221b and quickly knocked on the door, you heard a violin being played. Smiling, you stepped inside as Mrs Hudson opened the door. You smiled at her, not wanting to hug her for fear of soaking her with your wet clothes. She noticed this, and tutted. “Oh ((y/n)) you’re soaked through! Tell you what, there’s a spare big dressing gown somewhere around here and I’ll bring some tea up for you.”
“Mrs Hudson, you are a goddess!” You laughed, heading upstairs. As you did, the violin got louder.
Sherlock sent his piece to a soaring crescendo, and finished it to clapping from the doorway. “You got caught in the rain.” He said, smirking as he took in your wet clothes and hair.
“No shi—“
“Nope!” John yelled, blocking off your swearing. He had come up stairs moments after you and handed you the promised cup of tea and dressing gown.  You gratefully put it on, shivering slightly.
“Why are you here this time?” Sherlock asked, vaguely annoyed you had stolen his thinking chair.
“Umm, duh! I brought shopping! And milk. Loooootttssss of milk.”
“Oh. Any new cases?”
“Nope. Boring ones, but not related to the riddle ones.”
“Leads?”
“None.”
“Anderson and Donnovan?”
“Still boring.”
You flopped onto your side and lay on the sofa, sighing. It was so BORING with no cases. Maybe you should finally get Cluedo out again… No! No, no, no, no, no! Never again with Cluedo. A quick rap at the door shook you out of your thoughts. A man walked into the room, well dressed, with an umbrella in tow that was soaked.
“John, Sherlock, good to see you.” He said curtly, and you disliked him instantly.
A second later, Sherlock stood. He was just opening his mouth to issue a retort to the man, but you beat him to it.
“You’re a government official, evident from your shoes, just nearly got soaked in the rain too. You came here in a private car, most likely with an assistant, and are pretty damn rich, judging by the suit, very nice Burberry by the way.  Trying to lose weight using Atkins and failing, and seeing with the iciness that you just addressed Sherlock here with, I’d say you know him well, seeing as you’re on first name terms with him. Can’t be a friend, he’s only got me, John, Mrs H, Molly and Lestrade as friends, so family, therefore you, good sir, are Mycroft Holmes. Shall we all bow down now, or will a curtsey do?” You rattled off, deducing as you went. Sherlock smiled slightly at your jibe whilst John stifled a laugh.
Mycroft blinked. “And who might you be?” He asked, still slightly taken aback that someone could deduce nearly as well as him and his brother.


“((First name|Last Name)). I’d say it’s a pleasure, but I’d be lying.” You smirked, then turned around, looking at Sherlock and winking.
“What do you want brother?” Sherlock asked, boredly as you went into the kitchen to attempt and find some food.

Five minutes later, you came back in with a box of strawberries and another mug of tea, plonking yourself down on the sofa next to John, you crossed your legs and stared intently at Mycroft, listening as he explained the case. The victim, Arnold Masks, was handicapped, so had everything delivered to his door. Then one day, the post man arrives and sees the man lying face down on the ground in a pool of dried blood. Mycroft then passed a phone with a picture of the victim's house to his brother. "The crime scene. If you could cast an eye over it I'd be ever so grateful." He said, smiling. "Let me see." You said, grabbing it out of the younger Holmes' hand. You scanned the picture. "Got it. You?" You asked Sherlock, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face. Sherlock nodded. "The postman is the culprit." You said at the same time. "Elaborate." Mycroft said calmly. You let Sherlock take that part. "The murder took place on a Monday, yet the postman only reported it two days later. There is a magazine with the date clearly printed in the front propped up against the door, but only that one, not Tuesday and Wensday's, indicating that the postman knew that our friend Arnold sadly wouldn't be able to read it. Therefore, the postman is guilty." The detective explained, with John staring at the the pair of you, mouth open. "You two... are scarily good at this you know." He said in awe, chuckling. You smiled at him. "That's just how we roll." You smirked.

Later on, once Mycroft had left, you were curled up on the sofa with another cup of tea, munching on strawberries. You hummed contentedly, wrapped up in a blanket whilst the rain still poured. Sherlock stood in front of you, looking down at your cocooned form. "Both Mrs Hudson and I think that it's best if you stay here in the spare room for the night. All public transport has been cancelled because of the storm, meaning there's no cabs. If it's ok with you that is?" He asked, genuinely smiling. You returned his grin, and nodded. Suddenly John burst in, holding his laptop aloft. "That last case... it was another riddle!" He exclaimed breathlessly, pulling up the page on his computer. He showed you and Sherlock the riddle and you looked at him in shock. "Another one...."

"Hello, love." A soft voice whispered from behind Willow, making her whip around quickly. The moment she saw who was speaking, she screamed. For she was staring right into the face of a monster.
Paralyzed with fear, Willow stood there, staring at the creature. Again, it spoke. "Are you hurt? Is something wrong?" She asked worriedly, in that soothing tone again. Willow quickly shook her head no, unable to look away from her deep purple eyes. The creature smiled slightly, showing off sharp fangs.
"Are you lost? My name is Talli, by the way." The creature, Talli asked. Willow nodded yes, after all, she didn't even know if this is her world. Could she be dreaming? Maybe she's dead?
"Ahh, love, why don't you come home with me, we'll figure out." Willow nodded again. What would Talli do if she refused? Eat her? The creature waved a massive paw, as if telling Willow to follow, then walked off down the hall. As she walked, Willow examined the seemingly sweet creature in front of her.
Talli had four legs, and walked normally on them, like a dog, but it was obvious she could very easily be bipedal if she needed to. Her paws were big, with three large dark blue claws on each one. Her tail was currently curled up, like a chameleons, but it was covered in the same short, soft cream fur. Her ears were panther-like, small and rounded, and her snout wasn't particularly long or short. Just right. All in all, with four legs on the ground, she wasn't much bigger than a great dane, but Willow first met her, she'd been standing on her back legs, making her seem much bigger than she actually was.
"In here." Talli said, nudging open an apartment door. Room 19. Inside it was comfortable, a living area. Plush reading chairs and soft carpets covered the floor, and bookshelves lined the room. There was also a coffee table in the middle of the room, reachable from almost any of the chairs, with magazines and papers full of writing or sketches scattered across it's smooth surface.
"You want some hot chocolate, love?" Talli asked. "You look cold."
Willow was indeed cold, the building was quite chilly for some reason. She nodded, and Talli disappeared into on of the side rooms, reappearing with a mug cradled between her paws within a few moments. She handed it to Willow, who took it gratefully, and then curled into one of the chairs.
"You're very quiet, but I don't think it's because you are normally. You're frightened. Don't worry, love, some of us are quite nasty towards humans, but most of us find you sweet and adorable. Me including. And you're still a pup, not even full grown. What's your name?" Talli asked.
"W-willow." She replied. The earned a small smile from Talli.
"That's a beautiful name. Now, tell me, Willow. Where is your owner?"

A ninja and a mustatch guy

Once (a few years ago to be exact) there was a ninja and a dude with a mustatch. The ninja was 16 years old, and has accepted his first qualified ninja mission. The mustatch guy, however, was 32 years old, twice as old as the ninja! The ninja's mission was to climb the highest mountain, swim the longest sea, walk across the hottest desert and then go into the middle of the darkest forest. He must find a cave and go into it, collecting the treasure, bringing it back, showing he's worthy. Since he knows this will take a while he packed: rope, lots of food, lots of water, compass, matches, branch, ninja suits, water proof ninja suit, and some other sings since he knew there were creatures who may attack him. Then he set off, on his way to the mountain he met mustatch guy
"Hello" said the ninja
"HI!" said mustatch guy
"wanna join an adventure? it's gonna be tough"
"Sure" exclaimed mustatch guy.
Then, together, they walked to the base of the mountain. Then the ninja ran up the mountain. Then he trew the rope down after tying it around a sturdy rock. The man climbed up the mountain then they put water-proof suits on and swam across the sea. This took a month (not the swimming, both of the previous tasks). They made it to the desert. They had a quick drink and some food then they walked and walked (this took a month). They finally stood at the forest, not in it. Then ninja set the top of the branch on fire with his matches. They walked into the forest the branch lighting the way. They heard branches snapping. A big monster came and showed itself. It swiped at the ninja knocking him into a large rock. Then the ninja got both of his swords and hacked at the monster then it ran off wimpering. The ninja sheathed his swords and carried on walking. He came across the cave and walked down it, mustatch guy with the 'torch' following. ninja stopped. He saw an evil ninja it was..... KEITH. The two ninjas battled until ninja had Keith pinned to the wall with ninja stars and held a sword to him. Keith gave in and swore to be good and honour the ninja rules. Ninja released and forgave him. Then the collected the treasure and went back to the ninja training building (took another 2 1/2 months) The ninja leader gave Keith a 2nd change and made mustatch guy a ninja and ninja became a full ninja.

CrimsonEnder, the powerful male guardian paced across his cave in the lair with GrimEnder, his loyal and trusted second in command, sitting in silence near one of the walls. "We need stronger warriors" the black and red male growled.
"Is BloodEnder alone not good enough?" the black and purple male replied, questioningly.
CrimsonEnder stopped his pacing and sat down. "Strength, yes, but she is one warrior. An army does not consist of one dragon. Even then, she wasn't raised with a history of war,
we just found her and decided to train her up as a warrior"
Grim nodded "What do you suggest we do about it then?"
Crimson tilted his head "We find two dragons, as a pair, and make each generation of hatchlings fight to the death once they're able to head out on their own. 10 generations should be enough to get our true battle-born warrior."
Grim shook his head slightly "Death's gonna have his work cut out for him."
Crimson laughed, seeming more lighthearted now "He needs some work, he's not done much of his job since he hatched!"
Crimson flicked his tail, and Grim nodded, acknowledging his dismissal from the lair. The shadow element male went to his cave and donned his classic shadowscale armour set, heading off to find this pair of dragons to begin this 'Legacy of War'.

GrimEnder searched long and far across the plague territory. He was still getting used to this place, as a dragon born in the shadow territories. He stayed clear of other clans, why would he want to steal dragons from others? So he continued on. Eventually he found a pair of dragons on their own fighting a large creature but struggling. Grim charged in and helped to defeat the foe for them. Once the enemy was defeated the two dragons introduced themselves as Moonspirit, the silvery male guardian, and Ellethar, the purplish spiral. They said they were looking for somewhere to stay for a while, before they could go back on their travels so GrimEnder led them to his clan. CrimsonEnder nodded his approval, the black and red male guardian back in his bloodscale armor.
In the lair there seemed to be a large clearing with 6 different caves around it, one of them being bigger than the rest. The 5 smaller caves belonged to the 5 important dragons of the lair: CrimsonEnder, the leader, GrimEnder, the second in command; BloodEnder, the head warrior; ObsidianEnder, the healer and GrimEnder's daughter; and finally LunarOrchid, the mage of the clan. The bigger cave was for all the other dragons, though not all of them slept in that big cave.
Some like Death preferred to sleep outside, and that was perfectly fine as long as they didn't cause any kind of trouble.
GrimEnder led the pair to the larger cave and said "You can stay here for as long as you need to." The pair said they really appreciate his kindness and asked if there's anything they could do for him or the clan in return. GrimEnder thought for a moment before explaining what his leader was looking for. The pair looked at each other for a moment before nodding. GrimEnder smiled,
"Thank you." he said, before leaving to overlook the clan and its progress.