Superwholock- Broken Wings

Chapter Twenty Five- New Year's at the Williams's

"This is ridiculous," Sherlock muttered. "I don't see how these people can help. They aren't hunters, they're perfectly human, and, judging by this doorknocker, they have no basic military training. Although, I suppose they are fairly popular. That might come in handy." They were standing in front of a fairly modern, detached house, about to knock.

"Judging by the knocker?" John exclaimed incredulously. "What has the knocker got to do with any of this?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. John really could be slow sometimes.

"Look at it John. Describe it, and deduce," he ordered. John sighed, squinting at the knocker.

"It's metal, but that's standard when you buy new housing, so the house is fairly new. It's wonky, so no OCD like with Mycroft," he mused. Sherlock smiled slightly. "I don't know what else."

"That was appalling," Sherlock stated bluntly. "You look, but you don't see. The knocker is wonky, like you said, but that shows the lack of military training. Ex-army like everything to be neat and precise, they've been trained like that. They like things to work. A broken knocker doesn't fit this pattern. It would be fixed straight away."

"I see," John nodded. "But... what was that about popularity?"

"The handle is tarnished, and there is a significant amount of paint on the part that contacts the door, showing repeated knocks and, therefore, repeated visits. There is a small dent in the door from the knocking, which corroborates that they're popular. The house is new, so there hasn't been a lot of time for the house to have visitors. Also, the two who live here wouldn't knock, as they have keys."

"I see," John nodded. "Well, here goes nothing!" He raised the knocker and dropped it. A loud bang echoed through the house, followed by the pattering of footsteps. The door was flung opened, and before them stood a pretty women with flaming hair. She smiled warmly.

"Can I help you?" she asked. John opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock cut him off.

"Mrs Williams," he nodded slightly. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is John Watson." Amy looked confused.

"That's... nice."

"We're friends of the Doctor," at this Amy froze. She stepped back, opening the door wider, a friendly smile adorning her face.

"Come on in!" she turned and walked down the hallway. As they stepped inside, the sound of music reached their ears. Oh no.... not a party! Sherlock turned back towards the door, ready to escape. John grabbed his arm.

"Oh no no no! No you don't!" he spun his friend round and pushed him towards the front room, where the music was emanating from, despite Sherlock's protests.

Amy was standing by a table, about five people chatting in the room, which was still bedecked in Christmas decorations. Amy smiled, beckoning them over. She stood with two people. One of them was obviously her husband, Rory Williams, with his tall, stick like figure and brown hair. He held his hand out for them to shake.

"Hi. I'm Rory," he smiled.

"We know," Sherlock answered emotionlessly.

"Okay then..." Rory looked a little creeped out, but didn't say anything. The girl next to him was a little under average height, about 5'6, with long wavy hair and hazel eyes. A spattering of freckles adorned her face and a pen was tucked behind her left ear. She wore blue jeans with black hiking books, a red plaid shirt and a leather jacket. She smiled at them curiously.

"This is Jocelyn," Amy informed them, indicating the girl.

"Jay," she corrected them. "I'm Jay, not Jocelyn." She held out her hand. They shook it, one of Sherlock's eyebrows raising.