Don't blink, Mr. Holmes.

Chapter 3~ Lawrence Nightingale.

John took a moment to look up at the DVD's store's name, it read:

Banto's DVD Store

"I still don't understand why we're here." He muttered,"I didn't take you as one to carry out death wishes, Sherlock."

"There may be some clues to the disappearences." Sherlock replied simply.

"Clues." John repeated, sighing a little, he should of known they weren't actually just there for condolences.

Sherlock didn't pause for one second, barging straight past his friend and pushing the enterance door open. Upon hearing the ring of the shop door, John hurriedly followed Sherlock, stepping into the DVD store.

"I'm looking for Lawrence Nightingale." Sherlock curtly demanded to a man who had his feet propped up on the serving counter. He was watching an old police action film from a television that hung from above.

The man held a finger up, keeping his eyes glued to the T.V for a moment and then finally turned his attention to Sherlock.

"Lawrence Nightingale?" John enquired, joining the detective's side.

He lazily looked to John then back to the television, the man cocked his head over his shoulder, "Through the back."

Sherlock beckoned to John follow him and the pair both went into the back room.

"Hello?" John called when they found that nobody was there. Sherlock silently observed the room, randomly picking up things then putting them back down again. He walked across the room, turning his head left and right.

"Martha!"

Sherlock turned towards the source of the voice which had come from a scrawny man in a funny looking suit, wearing a pair of glasses on a T.V that sat on a desk in the room. There was also a girl with dark hair, wearing a leather jacket to his left on the screen.

"Sorry." The girl, who was presumably called Martha, apologized. Martha left, exiting the way she came on the T.V.

"What the...?" John voice faded as he walked across the room to look at the grainy footage that Sherlock was watching.

The man onscreen, turned back to them, his features becoming grim,"Quite possibly. Afraid so."

John furrowed his eyebrows in confusion,"It's like we're hearing half a conversation, like someone talking on the phone but you can't hear what the person they're talking to is saying."

Sherlock nodded once in agreement before they were both interrupted by a young man walking into the room.

The man looked up, "Oh, hello." He paused, shifting uncomfortably, "Can I help you?"

"Um...Hi. My name is John Watson. Lawrence Nightingale?" John greeted, walking over to shake his hand. "Urm, yeah." Lawrence replied, "Just call me Larry."

"Thirty eight!" The man onscreen said as if he were correcting someone.

"Er, just a mo." Larry said, reaching for a remote then pausing just as the man was about to say something else.

"We have a message from your sister." Sherlock interrupted, tapping his foot inpatiently as Larry picked up a bowl of cheerios and started to eat them.

"Have the police found her then?"Larry asked happily, his eyes widening with surprise,"Where is she?"

"Urm..yeah."John said, "She was only staying at a friend's house." He hesitated, "There was nothing to worry about in the first place."