A Study In Blink (A Wholock Crossover)

Chapter three

John stepped onto the mushy ground, feet sinking slightly due to the mud. He glanced down, pulling at his shoes, when he looked up again, something caught his eye. A statue of a woman was about ten feet away from him, he had sworn it wasn't there a moment ago. He observed the statue, eyes fixated on it, it was a woman with her face in her hands, almost as if she was weeping. Wings were at her back, slightly folded, so this was the statue of an angel. She wore a simple gown and a headband was draped around her head.

"John!" Sherlock called from ahead, and he turned away to look, but all he could see was darkness, the only light source was the streetlamp.

"Sherlock, where are you?" John called, he wasn't afraid, but he didn't like walking into an unknown graveyard, possibly with an assassin hiding just to jump up and yell Boo.

"Just come on John!"

He sighed and took a step forward, his boots made a squishy sound on the mud but he ignored it and kept walking.

A sudden light flashed in his face momentarily blinding him, he yelled and jumped back, hands covering his eyes.

"Sorry."

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light John tentatively lowered his hand and scowled at the detective. Sherlock's face was devoid of emotion, but John swore he had seen an inkling of a smirk trace his lips.

"Just get on with it," he said, glowering. This time, he definitely saw a half smile etch on his companion's face.

They walked for another two minutes, Sherlock leading at a brisk pace, John barely keeping up. "Here," he finally said, pointing the torch at a tomb stone. It said:

Joseph Darlington,Born 24 September 1921Died 12 December 2005

"So is this the case you were talking about? The article on today's newspaper? Gabriel E. Darlington was it? She disappeared at this cemetery, probably visiting this guy's grave?"

Sherlock was already bending down, examining the tombstone. He brushed his fingers against the edge and then brought it to eye level so that he could examine the dust patterns possibly. John glanced down, someone had left a Rose at the foot of the tomb.

"Got anything?" He asked, knowing the response.

"Not much," Sherlock said, straightening himself, something of a frown showing on his face.

"All I could tell was that Gabriel E. Darlington, apparently a journalist or some one in the media, with hopes of catching the culprit behind the disappearings in a deserted graveyard went to visit the flower shop along Baker Street, bought a Rose, went here, and gone missing." He said all this in one breath.

John furrowed his brow, "you said she was a journalist?"

"Yes, remind me of the date John."

"What?"

"The date!" Sherlock said, throwing his hands in the air. "Today's May 5th, and what's date of Joseph Darlington's death? December 12th, I don't think it's any where near his death anniversary do you? But still, one day after the Wilsons disappeared in St Engel's Cemetery another person shows up obviously not to pay a visit to her dead friend, so, why was she here? Most liking to find out what's been going on with the disappearings, why? Because she wants to be the first to catch the culprit and get famous in the media, hence, a journalist or media person."

John wasn't stunned by this deduction for he had witnessed Sherlock deduce many people and things, but he still marveled his companion's deducing abilities. However, he wasn't going to tell him that. To much time had gone since the first day he met Sherlock Holmes.

A crack sounded behind them and they spun around, not wanting to be the third victim of this cemetery. Sherlock shone his light across the deserted graveyard, nothing was there.

"Who's there?" He called. John silently cursed his friend for being so daft. Then John noticed something odd, the angel statue, which couldn't be more than fifty yards away, had disappeared. As if it had melted into the darkness.