Gusts of chilling breath seeped through the door cracks, as if darkness were viscous mud, writhing in the slits. The wooden door seemed to have become the sole barrier against the evil specter, separating reality from Hell itself.
Holmes glanced at the wooden door, then looked at Marvin, suddenly cracking a smile and extending his arm to press against the door.
Gurgle!
His palm sunk deeply in, as if touching the surface of water, stirring ripples; the darkness behind the door devoured Holmes' left arm and kept dragging him, trying to pull him inside.
"Holmes!"
Watson pulled out a revolver and fired repeatedly at the wooden door, and amidst the deafening gunfire, bullets one after another vanished into the door in the blink of an eye.
