A Study In Blink (A Wholock Crossover)

Chapter two

John didn't bother looking at the article for he knew it wouldn't bring him anything important, rather, he pulled his jacket off the hanger and, in no time, was shutting the door to 221B.

He looked around, noticing his companion frantically gesturing for a cab, and, to no avail.

"Why would no cab stop for me?" Sherlock absently slid his hand through the top of his hair, "no idea."

When he got no response, John asked again, "Where are we going?"

"To a grave yard."

"Great. What for?"

The detective didn't respond, instead, he turned his gaze towards John, startling blue eyes boaring in to him. The iris, he noticed, was tinted with a speck of lush gold, more pronounced in the left than the right. It was those eyes that had seen so much, had noticed every single detail of every single day, just looking at them seemed to drown you in-

"John, are you listening?"Sherlock cut in, interrupting his thoughts. "What? Oh no, sorry. Come again?"

Sherlock sighed ever so slightly and began again, "I asked you if you've heard from Lestrade lately."

John's brow furrowed from confusion, "no, but is that important?"

"Lestrade usually phones me when something like this happens," Sherlock muttered to himself.

"Yeah, well maybe he went on holiday or something."

Just then, a cab swerved in front of them, disrupting their conversation. Sherlock quickly pulled open the cab door and got in, "Engel's Cemetery."

He said briskly, seating himself on the very edge. John clambered in, "why are we going to a cemetery?" He asked again.

"Didn't you read the article?" Was the response.

"No, because I figured you'd rather tell me yourself."

"Good deduction." He paused and thought for a moment. "So, the disappearances,most recent one Gabriel E. Darlington, visiting the same graveyard as the Wilsons. I've read about the Wilsons online and there was a picture of the cemetery they were visiting, same cemetery photographed a week later."

Silence fell between the two and John looked out of the window, the street lamps seemed to stretch in a huge arch as they passed them, one by one. John blinked, remembering what Mycroft had once told him:

Most people...blunder around this city and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battle field.

He had known this to be true on the first day they met, when Sherlock deduced his sister's drug habit form his phone and cured his psychosomatic limp. And he had seen the battle field, for so many times, he had seen people die horrible deaths, yet...he still traveled with this man, solving mysteries, saving lives, having the best of times.

They arrived at Engel's Cemetery in about ten minutes time, Sherlock, as was customary, pulled out some money and payed the drive. Minutes later, Sherlock, with John in toe, walked into the unknown graveyard.