Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, they all belong to their respective creators.

~ Three Little Birds

After arriving at Chester, Cheshire by train, Sherlock loathed the idea of using the car rentals GPS. Normally on trips like this, he brought his own but early morning distractions i.e. sex with John, disturbed his double check of necessary items. He took a glance at the loaned contraption then set his eyes back on the road.

"Where is this GPS leading us?"

"The Last Brick Inn, we'll stop by, drop off our things and"

"Head for the police station after."

John smiled, delighting in how they finished each other's sentences sometimes.

"It's funny, this case."

"Should I be concerned about your dark humor?"

"Eh, no. It's just these people are dropping dead, like flies."

"Millicent Brownstone, age 67, found dead lying face down in her begonias; Carmine Rossi, age 33, found dead in hotel lobby; and Jocelyn Shepard, age 40, found dead in woman's loo at local restaurant. All bodies were found with no wounds, no internal bleeding and no fractured bones."

"Possible asphyxiation?" John suggested.

"No clear markings." Sherlock replied.

"Heart attack? Stroke?"

"Mm… not likely but let's keep an open mind."

"Right."

Sherlock pulled up to their destination, which looked more like an old mansion than hotel lodgings. They got out, grabbing their bags and duffels, hearing and feeling the crunch of gravel on the driveway under their feet and the chill in the air. What caught them off guard was the exclamation of joy from the grand entrance of the Inn. A man in his mid 40's, taller than John but shorter than Sherlock. Dressed in a suit he walked excitedly towards them, momentarily forgetting the use of his cane.

"Welcome and good afternoon Gentlemen! Please excuse my enthusiasm; my name is Mr. Crewes, Hector Crewes, manager of The Last Brick Inn, at your service."

Upon closer inspection, Mr. Crewes had interesting features, squinty eyes, a smile full of teeth and lines on his forehead. His eyes, in a way, sparkled at the sight of Sherlock and John but they were clearly aimed at Sherlock. The brunet detecive quirked a brow at John, knowing the former solider saw it but didn't acknowledge it.

"Yes, nice to meet you."

"Oh, Dr. John Watson and Mr. Sherlock Holmes," he shook their hands with zeal, "it's such an honor. I'm a huge fan of the blog, well, both blogs really. I love reading about the cases and how Mr. Holmes solves them."

"Yes, John has a fantastical way of describing the cases."

With a smile in place for Mr. Crewes, John mumbled Smartarse under his breath clearly intended for Sherlock.

"Indeed he does. On some post I've read, it seems like I'm there myself."

To Sherlock's ire, his sarcasm flew right over Mr. Crewes' head. A moment went by as Mr. Crewes stared at Sherlock, star struck. John coughed to get his attention,

"Mr. Crewes, um, if we can check in? We're here for a case and-"

"Oh! Yes, of course, please follow me?"

As they entered the building, John truly realized just how large the place was compared to the outside. Mr. Crewes gave them a brief history about the mansion and the surrounding property along with a small tour of the first floor, to which Sherlock murmured a comment meant for John's ears,

"Christ, it's a bloody Cluedo board."

John felt like he was back in school on a trip with the way Sherlock was making faces behind Mr. Crewes back, the elder gentleman not even the slightest bit aware of how bored Sherlock was. John kept a straight face but during the small explanation of how Robert Guilders lost the property to Evan Waterman while gambling; John had to bite down hard on his fist to contain his laughter when Sherlock made a face at one of the paintings in the ballroom.

Approaching where they left their bags near the lounge, Mr. Crewes clapped his hands and ended the tour.

"Well, that's it, except for a few things, Mr. Hastings takes care of the outside property from 10 am to 1pm every four days a week, he'll be on shift tomorrow. Oh! And here are a copy of keys to the Inn."

"Keys to the Inn? What do you mean?"

"I'm sure Mr. Holmes already knows."

"Obvious lack of employees, far too quiet, minimal dusting and cleaning, just enough for our company. The Inn isn't doing so well."

Mr. Crewes had stars in his eyes at Sherlock's minute deduction while John and Sherlock shared a look. A quick wave of John's hand in front of the older man's face brought him out of his daze and he righted himself.

"You and Mr. Holmes are the most guest this place has had in weeks. Just last month, we've only had seven guests, seven… in an entire month. After a while, employees just decided to quit and now, the only ones working are Mr. Hastings and myself. Mrs. Vanderbilt, wealthy woman, comes from old money and owns a drug store with her husband, she owns the property and it's through her that we get our pay. It's frightening really, she's throwing money away by keeping this place some what open. I'm getting paid to hold the Inn's keys and while most people wouldn't object to it, I feel unfulfilled."

"Do you know why there haven't been much guest?" John asked

"Bad advertising I suppose, I've done all I can with limited funds but I can only do so much. Another, although, silly reason guest aren't booking is because of… ghosts." Mr. Crewes responded.

"Ghosts?"

"Psshhh." Sherlock remarked and walked away to make himself comfortable on one of the lounge sofas, leaving John and Mr. Crewes to talk.

"Some of the guest claim to see spectres or unexplained events have happened to them. Come to think of it, some former employees claimed to have seen such things as well."

"Uh huh, right." John heard the man out; it's not everyday he heard the subject of the paranormal come up.

"I haven't seen anything like that at all and I'm one of those 'you have to see it to believe it' types. Nothing at all."

"Yeah, I understand."

"The notion is rather ridiculous but curious."

"How curious?"

"Well, a few weeks back, we had a guests with a five day booking, they left after two. They claimed to have saw something but like I said, I've seen nothing… it wasn't entirely a lost, they paid for their two nights."

"Still made some business then."

"Yes and perhaps," John saw the man's hesitation and wondered what he wanted, "this maybe a bit too forward and feel free to decline but can you help the Inn?"

"Help the-"

"Yes, put in a good word for us on your blog, talk about your stay and leave the spectres out or leave them in if you can write it to appeal to your readers. If you don't mind doing so, please put in a good word?"

John wasn't expecting to advertise the Inn on his blog but he felt bad for the gentleman and agreed.

"I'll-I'll do what I can."

"Oh thank you Dr. Watson, thank you very much." Mr. Crewes shook his hand again, grateful for the help.

"Please, just call me-"

"John!" called out the lounging detective.

"Yeah Sherlock?"

"I'm bored."

Author's note: the original draft for this was longer but it felt forced out and didn't flow as much as I wanted it to, this one feels better.