Detective Watson and Inspector Anon V

A fanfic where you, Anon, have just landed a job at Amelia Watson's detective agency. Your dream made real, a familiar yet completely unknown figure stalks you through the halls of a dark building, intent on ending you. With no sign of your partner, it looks like it's up to you to deal with this situation! Will you survive this encounter or will you become another statistic on the Sergeant's charts? Find out below! Updated every weekend! Previous Chapter: https://rentry.co/392tn As you can likely tell from my work down below, I'm a pretty amateur writer. I hope that through my posting and your criticisms that over time, I shape up to be much better and produce more enjoyable stories.


You're on the verge of a heart attack, you're absolutely sure of it.

The human heart was never meant to beat this hard and for so long, but you just can't stop it. Wave upon wave of panicked thought washes away all rationalization before you can properly construct a coherent idea. You know fear- you've been caught in the woods with a setting sun and with the knowledge that a mountain lion was nearby.

This was different.

To compare that and this current harrowing situation would be like a drop of water in an ocean, a speck of dust on a beach, and so on and so forth. You've seen roadkill, fresh and old, feeling relatively off-put by the gory sight and smell. What walks behind you is a fiend filled with all the evils of the world, you're so sure of it that it hurts to think about. Millions of years of evolution seem to blend together and scream in an unearthly chorus, the message clear as day: 'run for your life.'

"Come... to... me..."

"HELL THE FUCK NO!" You scream whilst running, passing under another dim emergency sign.

This exchange of words seems to go on for at least another minute, in your opinion. The thing making some strange answer, and you shooting back with a negative response and some profanity. A dark hallway occasionally lit up at irregular intervals by red 'EXIT' signs, but yet, no exit.

The hateful pink orb of the being occupies your mind's eye, like some sort of dread overseer that constantly monitors you from two different perspectives as it pursues you.

"AMELIA! PLEASE! WHERE ARE YOU?!" Your lungs are tired and through the surge of chemicals in your body, the weariness is slowly setting in. You've run and ran for what feels like ten minutes, but there's no change in distance between you and The Omen.

No different doors that appear...

Just a long hallway.

But then, it appears.

You sight a door up ahead marked with symbols that you just can't make out and charge at full speed, taking a running jump and booting the door open.

"... Wait..." The raspy, deep voice from behind you calls, but you have no intention of waiting for it. The door shuts behind you and ahead lies a crossroads involving two more corridors leading east and west, you bound down the east one. You almost choke, wiping your mouth and finding... foam. Were you frothing at the mouth? Successfully, you find a desk and slide under it, nestling yourself up against a good corner.

Then it hits you.

You can think.

Grabbing a handful of your shirt and pressing it to your face, you desperately attempt to muffle your breathing, pleading for your heart to calm itself. Multitasking, you begin to try to scrabble some sort of plan together. You know that when you're around The Omen, it makes you unable to muster an understandable thought. Additionally, a revelation comes to you. How long were you running through the building? Something that comes across as strange to you is that while you ran at full speed for what felt like forever, you seemed to get nowhere.

Could it... manipulate the environment? In the hallway it neither seemed to get farther but only inched closer, but if that was the case, then how did you esc-

"You're welcome." A soft voice whispers from next to you, eliciting a muffled scream of surprise as your whole body jerks, head slamming against the wall so hard that pretty stars dance in your vision. Your eyes dart to the source of the voice, but immediately lay eyes on a migraine-inducing shimmer within the shadows. Nausea wells up rapidly until you look away, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

"Quiet now, my neophyte," The disembodied voice croons softly, drawing closer to your person and forcing you to stare at the ceiling as the flickering rend in reality draws close enough to fill most of your vision, "if you keep being loud, She will hear you and come looking for the soul She missed." The way this new... thing moves around you, it feels like you're being sized up, undressed, and laid bare.

You prepare yourself to open your mouth, but hearing the distant stomping start up again rapidly changes your mind.

'Can you read my mind?'

'I will ask the questions, and you will sit like a good apprentice and listen. Is that clear?' An intense pressure falls onto your shoulders, knees buckling as you slide to the ground with a thump. Mustering up an affirmative to the entity, it makes a small sound in your head. 'Humu... The canvas is still being prepared, and the pigment is not ready yet... a newborn star, of depths long lost, echoes of passing and though it is fickle, yesterday and tomorrow's vision.'

'Will you gather those for me?'

It's not like you have much of a choice. Hesitantly agreeing, you are met with a soft laugh from the other.

'Then, as a parting gift, I shall tell you this.' The being leans in close to you, causing your skin to quite literally writhe and wiggle uncomfortably. 'Below the quintet recently departed, derive the efforts of the black-hearted." A soft breath hits your ear, causing you to shudder. "I won't do this for you again, so start thinking.'

Your vision faded out.

. . .

Distant words...

The sound of a door opening...

Falling, again...

Your dreams were fitful, seating you on a hill overlooking the city, but something was wrong. It was just an outline, and then it wasn't. Like wearing 3D glasses, you saw a city that flickered in and out of existence. On your lap was a map of the city, and next to you an assortment of five colored pencils: orange, blue, yellow, black and... there was a fifth. You had reached for it first, but it was gone. Instead selecting the orange one, you experimentally drew a line on the map and immediately recoiled as a slew of massive fires broke out, devouring entire skyscrapers.

"Very sloppy, my apprentice." A voice whispered, as you stared at the scene before you in abject horror. The outline had been erased and in real-time, the buildings themselves were melting under the intense heat and... the screaming! You could hear it, hundreds and hundreds of wailing voices and cries of agony.

"You'll learn, with time."

And the entire city was swallowed up by a fireball, a wave of flames rushing towards you. You held your hands up in a futile attempt to shield yourself, heat quickly growing as it grew closer until it arrived, torching you and tearing one last yell from your lungs before they were carbonized.


"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" You sat bolt upright in your bed, sheets soaked with sweat.

"JESUS FUCK!" A glass shattered and you immediately looked over, seeing someone in your small kitchenette. On the floor was a broken plate, and just behind it was an indignant Amelia Watson. "I brought you home, made sure you didn't die in your sleep, and even made breakfast! The least you could do is not scream like someone's stabbing you to death!" Letting out a huff, she grabbed a dustpan and started sweeping the glass up.

"I-I... wha-..." You looked down at yourself, finding your shirt still on as well as your pants. "H-How did I-"

"How did you get home? Well, the police found you and then the Sergeant called me," Amelia replied, dumping the remnants of your dish into the trash before dusting her hands and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "you were passed out on the floor, talking gibberish." You couldn't help but notice how cute she was, especially when her hair was tied back in a little ponytail. "Hey! You payin' attention, bud? Wanna explain why you didn't respond to me back at the morgue and just left me in the dark for like, an hour? I-I'm not scared of the dark, but it's good manners to let someone know if you're gonna take a nap." The girl demands, walking over to your bed and sitting beside you, offering you a plate of bacon and eggs.

Staring down at the food, you also notice the cross necklace- or rather, just the necklace now. The cross is gone, but the black imprint of it is still visible on your shirt like it turned to ash.

"I-I..." You start, but she reaches over and lightly grabs your shoulder.

"Just glad you're okay, partner. I was really concerned when they said that you were found in there. I was worried that The Omen came bac-" Amelia said gently, raising your chin with her other hand and looking into your eyes.

"... It did come back, and we have to go back there."

"What?"

"I... have a hunch that might solve this." You slowly admit, looking up at her. For some reason, a thought is insistent on your mind and you're not sure where it came from, but you voice it anyway. "I think there's something below the crime scene, like... where the bodies were." A strange look comes across Amelia's face as she stands up, dressed in just her skirt and her dress shirt. Sitting down at your single table, she pulls on her stockings again, beautiful blue hues locked on yours.

"Well, I trust you, Anon. Just finish up breakfast as soon as you can and meet me downstairs, okay?" She said, picking up her hat and grabbing her coat off your gaming chair, leaving you alone in your apartment.

You sit there in silence for a few moments before putting the plate aside and swinging your legs out of bed, eyeing your shoes and picking them up. It wasn't a dream or some nightmare or some hallucination, you knew that much. The soles were worn to all hell, and they were creased even worse too. The running was real, but... when did you pass out?

The Omen, wasn't it right on your heels...?

Scarfing down Amelia's breakfast, you don't have time to savor the crispy bacon or the perfectly cooked eggs- done just how you like them. Shoes on and jacket on your shoulders, a grim look comes across your features.

Shit just kept getting weirder and weirder, you thought to yourself as you locked your front door behind you and took the elevator down.

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Pub: 03 Oct 2021 08:59 UTC
Edit: 04 Oct 2021 07:00 UTC
Views: 573