A Study In Blink (A Wholock Crossover)

Chapter six

The next morning started as a ray of sunshine hit John in the face.

"Come on John, things to do." Sherlock said, pulling the curtains open.

John groaned and rolled over, pulling his bed sheets over his head. An instant satisfying darkness engulfed him again and John willed himself to fall asleep.

The bed sheets were yanked to one side and Sherlock's voice pressed down on him. "John stop being an polar bear and get up."

John rubbed his knuckles against his eyes, "what?" He asked, without much interest

A blurry figure stood towering above him and what seemed to be a scowl etched across his face. "Funny," Sherlock said, "not one person seems to get the joke."

He continued to babble on and on about polar bears and their hibernating habits, but John had already lost interest.

"Sherlock," he said, "will you shut up?"

"Um, no."

"So you'd better bloody tell me what Lestrade said last night."

"Oh so you haven't suffered from memory lost I must tell you that is quite a relief."

John, now used to his companion's usual derogatory comments, ignored it and sat up.

"I'll be ready ten minutes later, in the mean time, will you get out?"

Twenty minutes later John existed his bedroom and went downstairs.

"You took twenty minutes." He said, poker faced.

"Yeah, I noticed. Where are we going?"

A grin spread slowly across his face, one that was all too familiar.

"You've got something haven't you? From last night."

"John you continue to amaze me," Sherlock answered, pulling at his blue scarf with one hand and pushing at the door with the other. "After you."

They existed 221B and John blinked, the dazling sunlight hit him straight in the eyes. Sherlock, still busied himself with his scarf, tucking in here and there. He'd never seen Sherlock this fussy before. Or perhaps, he was just dressing up to meet his arch enemy.

About half an hour passed and finally Sherlock turned a corner to see Lestrade. He looked worse than he did yesterday, if that was possible. Dark lines etched his eyelids as if he hadn't slept in days. His eyelids were heavy but they lit up as he saw Sherlock.

"Thank God you're here. I literally haven't slept in about 48 hours."

"Why didn't you come to me earlier?" Asked Sherlock, a hint of accusation in his words.

The detective inspector looked down, as if he was ashamed to admit it. "Well, I thought...maybe"

"Maybe you could work it out yourself?" Sherlock asked smugly, "if you don't mind my saying inspector, you could hardly work out the crosswords on morning newspapers."

"Sherlock." John said.

And the detective shut up.

The three went into a small ally, which, according to Sherlock, led to Lestrade's house. Lestrade fillingJohn in with the current events of last night.

"So, two days ago, when I was having a night in with my wife. We heard a strange...noise in our kitchen. Like a rasping sound. I went to look, and this policebox had just materialized there. Out of no where."

"I've got to see this myself." Said Sherlock, "I reckon the inspector is as stressed out as you are John. With the difference of you seeing things disappear and Lestrade the exact opposite."

"Anyways," Lestrade said, completely ignoring Sherlock's comment, "there was also this note on the phonebox."

They entered the gates and continued walking towards the small manor.

"You just said it was a police box?" John asked

"Well it was also a phone box, I guess." Lestrade said, "like in the nineties, where they have these Police Phone Boxes."

"Okay so what's the note?"

Lestrade grimaced, "that's what been bothering me. You'd better see for yourself."

One by one, they entered the handsome manor house and headed straight to the kitchen.

"Holy..." John said.

There, right beside the fridge, stood a blue box. What was more to add, as John and Sherlock got closer to have a better look, a note with five simple words was sticked to the front door. It read:

"Come help me Sherlock. 1934."