A Study In Blink (A Wholock Crossover)

Chapter nine

"So who's this Doctor folk then?"

Sherlock abruptly snapped out of his daze, "sorry, what?"

"The Doctor," Lestrade repeated, "I mean that's not even a name, Doctor Who?" He waved his hands in frustration and let out a heavy sigh. "Stranger things are happening by the day, and suddenly everyone is phoning us, these aren't even our division! Remember the Big Ben? And then ATMOS?"

"And now the disappearences." John added. 

"Exactly! And then there's this top secret organization, Torch Wood. The name just seems to flow everywhere, either when you go shopping or in a crime scene. There it is: Torch Wood."

Lestrade continued to talk on and on about Torch Wood, but John had lost interest, his ears caught occasional phrases like, took over a case without warning and, someone weird called Captain Jack.

John's eyes flickered, for one exact moment, he thought he saw the same hesitation he had in Sherlock's eyes, but this time, it was different. Between the entanglement of emotions in those eyes, John saw recognition, as if, some inexplicable part in this case had suddenly made sense to Sherlock. But it was there one moment, gone the next, and John doubted that whether he'd really seen something in those eyes.

"Sherlock," John started, and the detective latched his gaze upon John, daring him to speak. 

But he did despite himself.

"I believe her," he blurted out, "about the Angels, about something colossal coming. As Lestrade said, there's been things, weird stuff going on. Even you can't ignore it."

Sherlock involuntarily twitched his right index finger, as people do.

"Oh John," he said in barely a whisper, blue eyes flickering like a cat about to pounce, "tell me you're just babbling nonsense as usual."

And then John exploded. 

"Will you stop it!" He bellowed in all his rage and indignation, "I am sick of you, acting all superior treating the rest of us like we're idiots. Can you work out in that tiny little brain of yours that people have actual feelings! FEELINGS! AND WHEN YOU BLOODY SAY THINGS LIKE THIS IT CAN BLOODY HURT OTHERS! FOR ONCE, SHERLOCK, WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" John heaved in a deep breath, eyes set ablaze like the burning stars in heaven.

To no one's surprise, Sherlock remained his usual collective self, all the time, blue eyes pivoted to that of John's.

"DID YOU-" John started but cut off shortly by his own frustration, he began again with a calmer tone, "did you just listen to me?"

"Shut up." 

Lestrade let out a groan that had been building up in his throat for quite a long time. "Sherl-"

"No. Shut up. Shut up. Shut. Up." The last two words were pronounced with deliberate force, each syllable reverberating around the room, echoing off the buzzing of the silence. "Just. Shut. Up. I'm trying to get to my Mind Palace."

Oh no. 

Those were the words that John absolutely dreaded hearing. His Mind Palace. As Sherlock calls it, was a memory technique that allows him to store all the information he has ever encountered in one imaginary place. Or palace. One would think that Sherlock is intolerable most of the time, but when he gets into his Mind Palace, he becomes the worst idea for a flatmate in the history of worst ideas for flatmates. John still recalled that particular painful memory of being driven out of 221B  when Sherlock was cracking a case and needed some information buried deep within his skull. The thunder storm outside had seemed more pleasurable than the man inside.

The dectetive inspector looked bemused, "your mind what, exactly?" He seemed to be teetering on the verge of laughter.

"My mind palace." Sherlock answered, unphased by the heavily laid sarcasm, "allows me access to my earliest memories." 

John got up from the sofa, gesturing to Lestrade, "come on."

"Wait," Lestrade said, indignation seeping through his voice. "You can't kick me out of my own house!"

"Just come on," John said. Though he was fed up with Sherlock's attitude, he knew better than to argue. 

He walked swiftly towards the door, with Lestrade grumbling behind him. As the door closed behind him, Sherlock's voice came through the crack, one last haunting statement.

"I know who the Doctor is."

Author's Notes:

So here ya go! Another chapter! This is only the first draft so it would be a bit rough around the edges, but I'll revise ASAP. Please tell me what you think of the book so far in the comments! 

Thanks for reading!

~Emma