--Ghost's PoV--

I rung the doorbell to the place for rent and waited with sir for the landlady to come. I fixed the knocker, for some reason it was tilted away from where it should go. I noticed, and it quickly got on my nerves

"How are people supposed to do the fancy knocking thing you guys do if it's tilted away?" I asked glaring at it.

"Here, sir lemme just-" Toast fixed the knocker a bit, but accidently pushed the door open. "Whoops."

Turns out he didn't push open the door, but the landlady had opened it for us. "Sorry I took so long, one of the people staying here put the doorbell in their fridge. Please, come in!" We walked into the cramped space and she smiled, "are you the two looking to rent?"

"That's us, I am Johnny Ghost, Paranormal Investigator Extrodenare, and this my partner Johnny-"

"Wait, you two are married?" She asked us. I felt my face grow warm as Toast's went red as a beat.

"N-no... It's more like... We're business partners... And best friends... I'm not even dating anyone..." I mumbled as she ignored how embarrassed we were by the question. Casket was dying of laughter inside my head.

"Shut up," I told him, but he kept laughing,

"SHE SEES IT TOO! HAHA! OH, MAN, I WISH I COULD USE A CAMERA IN HERE!" he imitated a camera clicking and I had to keep myself from strangling him... Myself in public.

"So do you want to see the room?" She asked as she moved ahead. We looked at each other, still blushing furiously, and shrugged.

"Yeah, sure..." The room was a little basement, but we figured we could make do if we tried. "Thanks, ma'am, we'll take it," I said to her, smiling a bit. She told us the price, I had Toast pay (because I have no money that isn't American...), and we managed to get most our stuff in within minutes, considering the small stuff was in our backpacks.

When we came back from supper that night, one fo the neighbors were playing violin music, which we both obviously found relaxing, so we waited at the bottom of the stairs to listen. 

"I wonder who that was?" Toast said, smiling, I nodded, wondering when we'd get to meet them and we both went back into our cramped basement room. We put up posters for our service, but just put on our phone number, not our location. We also took our location off the website, and afterward, Spooker called me, telling me a weirdo had Toast's phone, and I explained to him everything that happened, Casket part not included.

"Wow, seriously? That's kinda rude." Spooker said, "well, you might want some sleep, what is it, eleven over there?"

"Yeah I think so... Have a nice day, Spooker." I hung up the phone, relieved to no longer be talking to him. "Night, Toast," I said, trying to settle down a bit even though I was still in my clothes, but he knew better.

"Sir, we're still on a North Carolinian sleep schedule, and not only that, but we went to bed at six the other night. Why don't we find something to do?" Toast smiled at me and I grinned back, grabbing my things.

"I'm sensing a pretty strong signal nearby, walking distance." I smiled, "I think a level twenty."

"What type of ghost, sir? Or is it a demon?"

"Nope, just a spirit, shouldn't be too hard," I told him, packing together all our stuff. We almost ran out the door, fumbling past a few stray news reporters who had started crowding around 221B Baker's Street.

"What was that all about?" I asked Toast while we hailed a cab.

"Must be mistaking our flat for a place where somebody famous lives." Toast replied, managing to wave one down, "they'll be gone by the time we get back."

--Sherlock's PoV--

"Alright John, I talked to Mycroft about what we found, and he said don't read the journal," I said to my partner, holding the book we... borrowed from the Paranormal Investigators.

"So how much have you already read?" John asked me back and I grinned.

"Not much, but enough to get a good idea how much a psycho Casket is," I told him showing him one of the pages which just had the word secret written all over it, corner to corner. He started to thumb through it. One of the pages had a childish picture of a... Thing? It was so crudely-drawn it could've been anything.

"C-B-F," John spelled out the letters from the bottom of the page, "what do you think it stands for?"

"No idea. Cranky Bored Families?" I suggested, beginning to pace

"Crazy Bright Friend?" John asked.

"I take that as a compliment."

"It was just a guess," John told me, "I wasn't addressing it toward you."

"Creepy Blind Fish?" I said, exasperated.

"What? Why would you even-"

"I don't know, I was literally just words throwing together..."

"Cardboard Fiend?" John suggested, looking at the box-like shape of the creature.

"... Maybe." I sat down and began to ruffle back through the pages, after awhile, the book became less terrifying drawings and more like scribbled diary entries, all being signed by "Jimmy C." One being signed by a pile of scratches in blood, which looked pretty freaky.

"This man is crazier than I thought," John mumbled after reading the first entree.

"This is going to be more fun than I thought." I grinned, standing up. "John, read more, tell me if you find anything of interest. I'm going to talk to Mycroft, ask what he knows about our new little friend."

"Won't he suspect you read the journal?"

"Please, he already knows." I pulled out my phone and began to type. "That's why he told me not to."