Chapter Text
One thing Molly Hooper knew well was strange. Strange meant so many different things to different people, but where she was from, there was the merely weird, and then there was The Manor. It was an odd curiosity that, as far as she knew, no other village in the whole of England had. And it wasn’t just weird. There were whispers, from its first appearance hundreds of years ago to now, that it was demonic. After all, what good could come from a huge home that only appeared on All Hallows Eve? It was legend in all of England, but the village constable had always been quite good at keeping the sightseers who wanted a glimpse and the more adventurous young villagers at bay.
The constable had not met Sherlock Holmes, however.
She still didn’t know why she had told him. He had never heard of it before, and she should never have brought it up. But she remarked on some random thing they had been talking about with a building that only appeared once a year, and Sherlock pounced on what he called the ludicrous idea immediately. She tried to not talk about it, but he was insistent. He was insistent about it for days, actually, bringing it up every chance he got. Finally she told him, just to get him to leave her alone. It didn’t quite work out as planned, she realized, as they were now well hidden in the location where it would appear in less than fifteen minutes.
Molly went home often. She loved Bozeat. She loved the place where she had grown up, even if not all of her memories had been pleasant. She’d had dreams of bigger things, unlike the rest of her family, and she had not come back after university to stay. But most of her family had, and so when she got particularly homesick she would return. She had spent some time there every Christmas, except the year of the party. That year she had stayed in London, and she decided not to make that mistake again afterwards. But she had not come on Halloween since she left.
She had gone to see The Manor when she was young. She had always been a curious and inquisitive child, and to see a home that appeared at midnight and was only there for twenty-four hours had been something that intrigued her. At least until the year Bonnie Thompson disappeared. Bonnie had been a friend. Maybe not quite her best friend, but they were still close. Her brothers had all said Bonnie’s curiosity would get her in trouble one day, and they were right. The Halloween they were eight Bonnie got her to go to the patch of land where The Manor would appear. They’d almost been caught but they weren’t, at least at first. Molly always wished they had been. Molly had seen it appear. It shimmered into existence, this foreboding fortress that everyone was transfixed by, even her. But Bonnie wanted to go up and see it up close. There was something more than the fact that the building appeared out of nowhere that gave Molly the creeps. There was evil in that building, and she could feel it all the way back from their perch. Bonnie scrambled down out of the tree and made her way to the gate. Molly had tried to stop her, she had, but Bonnie wouldn’t listen. And then the constable appeared, the minute Bonnie had entered the gates. He’d pulled her back and admonished both girls for being somewhere they didn’t belong. They made their way back home, and Molly thought that would be the end of it.
But then school happened the next day and Bonnie wasn’t there. The entire town was frantic, and the constable told about what had happened the night before. Molly was yelled at and questioned, sometimes both in the same breath, and she repeated the same story over and over. Some of the adults advocated going in the building and looking for her, but in the end no one dared. And then, November 1st, the house was gone and there was no trace of Bonnie ever again. Molly had steered clear of The Manor every Halloween since, at least until this year. This year Sherlock wanted to see it, and not a damn thing she said would stop him. The two of them were up in the same tree she had climbed when she was young. They wouldn’t have had to be in the tree except the constable had found them out at eleven. Sherlock backed away from the site then rounded back and climbed up the tree, and the only thing Molly could do was follow.
“I doubt it will appear,” Sherlock said, looking at her. The tree had thick branches and they were both fairly light but she was still worried the branch would break and she’d have to deal with injuries along with any psychological trauma that might happen.
She shook her head. “I saw it appear as a girl, remember?”
“I think you imagined it. As I said before, I doubt it will appear.”
“Well, it’s been appearing for hundreds of years. It’s fairly well documented. You just won’t believe it until you see it yourself, will you?”
“No, I won't believe it until I see it for myself.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Promise me you won’t go in, all right? I know you’re curious, but…promise me.”
“Since I doubt it will appear I can make that promise,” he replied. Molly was about to reply when Sherlock clamped a hand over her mouth. She glared at him but he put a finger to his lips and then pointed beneath them. The constable was walking by. Personally Molly hoped he looked up in the tree so he could tell them to go again, to scold Sherlock and ensure she didn’t have to see the place that haunted the nightmares she still had occasionally. But she was not lucky as after lingering for about five minutes he left again. Sherlock removed his hand. “We can see it appear from here, correct?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said with a slight nod.
“Then we will stay here until it appears, if it actually does. Then I want a closer look.”
“I thought you didn’t think it would appear.”
Sherlock gave her a mild glare. “If you're correct then I’ll want to examine it. If you're wrong we’ll pretend this didn’t happen.”
“You’d never let me forget it if I was wrong,” she spat out.
He blinked slightly. “You make mistakes all the time and I never hold them against you,” he said.
“Nice to know how you really feel,” she murmured.
“Molly,” he said softly. “I do not mean to insult you. I'm sorry.”
Molly was quiet for a moment. “Apology accepted, I suppose.” She glanced down at her watch. “It’s a minute until midnight.”
"Then we’ll wait.” They both turned their attention to the vacant patch of land, and Sherlock softly counted down each second. When he hit one, just as it had when she was a child, the building shimmered into existence. She turned back to look at Sherlock, whose eyes were wide. “Unbelievable,” he murmured.
“I told you it was real,” she replied. “Now can we go back to the village?”
Sherlock looked away from the manor. “We’re not the only ones here with the intention of seeing it,” he said, pointing.
Molly looked to their left and saw a young girl, no more than eight, glance around before making a dash to the gate. “We have to stop her,” she said. “Get out of the tree, Sherlock.”
“You’re worried there will be a repeat of what happened to your friend,” he said.
“Yes. I don’t want any other parent in this village to go through what Bonnie’s parents went through. We have to stop her now. Where the bloody hell is the constable?”
“Probably on the far end of the fence,” Sherlock said as he began to get down the tree. Molly quickly followed him. They made a dash to the gates and saw they were open. “She’s already inside the grounds.”
“Then we need to be faster,” Molly said, pushing the gate open a little more and going inside, Sherlock right behind her. “Where is she?”
“She’s making her way to the door,” he said.
“We aren’t going to be able to stop her,” Molly said.
“Perhaps we will.” Sherlock sprinted towards the door and it was all Molly could do to keep up. The girl got to the door first, opened it and stepped inside just as Sherlock and Molly got to her. They had to go inside to stop her. “You need to get out of here,” he said to the girl, turning her around.
Molly gasped. She recognized the girl as the same friend of hers who disappeared all those years ago. “Bonnie?” she got out.
“The Manor wanted you, not me,” she said in a scared voice. “It wanted you, Molly, and now it’s got you. Run!”
“But I don’t—” Molly began to say, but she was cut off by the front door slamming shut. Sherlock went over to it and tried to open it, and after a few moments he slammed his fist against it. “Sherlock?”
“We’re trapped inside,” he said quietly. He looked at Bonnie. “What are you, exactly?”
“One of the residents,” Bonnie said. “I suppose I’m a ghost, but I’m solid.” Then she gave them a sad smile. “I saw a ghost. When I came back early in the morning. A young boy. He said he wanted to play tag. Now it’s my turn to lure someone here. I’m sorry, Molly.”
“Why does it want me?” Molly asked.
“Because you can stop him, and it wants to trap you here. You can stop the owner of this place. Only someone from your family can.” Bonnie began to shimmer out of existence. “I’ll help if I can. We all will. You won't be able to see us but we can see and hear you. We'll help. We all want to be free.”
‘Bonnie!” Molly called out, but after a moment the young girl was gone. Molly turned to Sherlock at that point, wrapping her arms around herself. “What are we going to do? This place will be gone at midnight tomorrow.”
“We’re going to find our way out of here,” he said. He came closer to her, and after a moment he put his hands on her shoulders. “I promise you, Molly. I do not want to let this owner win.”
“Don’t you wish I’d never told you the story now?” she said with a humorless smile.
“On the contrary,” he said. “This is a puzzle to solve. And the first step is to find out why it has to be someone from your family who can stop this owner.” As soon as he said that a set of doors to his left opened. He reached over and grabbed Molly’s hand. “We can’t afford to be separated.”
“All right,” she said with a nod, lacing her fingers through his. “Lead the way.”