Chapter Text
Ever since Abigail had encountered her first ghost at the age of thirteen, ghosts had become her area of expertise. She liked to think of herself as the leading specialist and ghost hunter of the Folly. So whenever she had some free time at hand, she would pursue this hobby and read about ghost sightings in the Folly's records or go on a hunt.
During her readings she had stumbled across a pattern of increased ghost sightings in a certain area of London, occuring from around 1990 to this day, with one account claiming to have witnessed the repeated haunting of one particular house. Abigail, who - once she had noticed a pattern - had marked all the alleged sightings on a map, was inclined to believe in the haunting of that specific house, since it seemed to be the epicentre of all the sightings in that area. She decided, that she needed to investigate the situation at hand and told Nightingale as much, after showing him her evidence.
Research, tell Nightingale, investigate. This had been her course of action since the incident with the house, since Nightingale had lectured her to 'not enter potentially dangerous situations without establishing reliable lines of communication' and made her promise to not do anything reckless without telling him first. She had kept to that promise and had every intention to do so for the forseeable future, despite her reputation as a troublemaker.
"Are you certain you should be investigating this on your own?" Nightingale asked in his posh manner of speaking.
That, Abigail had anticipated and prepared an answer: "Sure, why not. Obviously, there've been lots of sightings, but no report ever mentioned any accidents or disappearings, so I don't think it's dangerous."
She put on her most convincing face. Nightingale looked only half-assured.
"Very well then. While that argument is convincing, we should still establish a back-up plan: It is now" - he pulled out his pocket watch and took a look at it - "close to 4 pm. Considering the time you will need for transportation I am expecting you to be back at the Folly at 6:15 pm at the lastest. Have you not returned until then I will be assuming that a problem has occurred and will come to get you out, understood?"
Abigail fought the urge to roll her eyes or appear too fond by Nightingale's display of concern disguised by the strictly businesslike manner.
"Roger that", she replied in best fox-impression, grinning.