A Study In Blink (A Wholock Crossover)

Chapter seven

Silence.

Sometimes silence has its own sound. A perpetual buzzing rang throughout the kitchen though there was no apparent source. John stared at the piece of paper, mind running a marathon.

"Shut up." 

He turned to look at Sherlock. His companion's face was strunched up in a concentrated expression, his eyes an unusual bright blue mingled with occassional dots of green and gold. John could almost swear he'd seen a tick in those brilliant eyes.

"What?" He asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "need I say it again? Don't think, it ticks me off."

John had to resist for the gazillionth time not to punch Sherlock in the face, instead he just sighed and shook his head.

"Anything tick off in that clever little head of yours?" He asked.

"Not yet..." Sherlock said, though John noticed the slightest of hesitations when he uttered those words. "Were you able to get in?" This was apparently addressed to Lestrade.

Lestrade, who had been extremely quite during the whole conversation, made his way across to Sherlock and John.

"No." He said, "and it's not from a lack of trying. I've had several men called in, who're supposedly to be good with locks, but... as you see, no luck." He finished.

But Sherlock was already bending down, taking out his magnifying glass and examining the lock. He squinted several times at a spot as if he did not understand, then slowly, slowly, stood up again.

"Seems like an ordinary garden lock, yet..." He trailed off, bewilderment creeping into his voice. "...Yet somehow, with immense complexity..."

"So this note then," Sherlock began again, his usual confidence returning. "You said the policebox just appeared in your kitchen?"

"Yeah." 

"Nonsense of course. Someone must've placed the policebox way before you came home from work, played a silly noise to lure you into the kitchen. Just because the sound and your 'discovery' of this policebox were at the same time doesn't neccessarily means they actually arrived at the same time. There, someone placed a silly note on a phonebox asking me to come and help, obviously a hoax to confound detectives as yourself."

That strange buzzing silence again filled the whole room as Sherlock took in a small breath. Lestrade looked dumbfounded but seemingly on the edge of saying something. 

There was something fishy about the whole thing. John thought. Something was definetely wrong with this case and Sherlock knows it, something he isn't telling. Sometimes Sherlock acted like a naive child, as if by pretending something was fine would make it fine. 

"Sherlock..." John said, "is there something you would like to add?"

Sherlock glanced over at his partner, his look made it clear that he wasn't about to discuss it in such an open area, where anyone could be eavesdropping.

"Um. No. Would you?"

John started to say 'no' but was cut off by the weirdest thing that happened yet. 

The phonebox was ringing, actually, ringing. Someone, had apparently wanted a talk.