Angels in London - Pt 3 and Case Report

He watched as John looked over to Sherlock as if to say something, but the cab suddenly screeched to a halt. Sherlock grabbed the door and John's arm as they were thrust forward. Regardless of this, John still ended up in The Doctor's lap. Before The Doctor could make a joke about it to his friends, the cab driver yelled, "Who the hell put a statue in the center of the street?!"

All three of the riders' eyes widened. "What?!"

"Don't blink!" The Doctor screamed as he jumped out of the cab with Sherlock and John. The cabbie turned his head when he heard the statement, confused by it, giving the Angel the opening it wanted. It broke through the windshield and grabbed him around the neck; he was gone in the next instance.

Once the cabbie had unfortunately been sent back in time, The Doctor kept his eyes on the Angel that was now on the hood of the cab.

"Doctor," Sherlock said frantically, "they're closing."

"'They'?" He yelled back.

"Yeah," John answered for Sherlock. Both of the humans had their eyes on at least three Weeping Angels a piece that had closed in while everyone's eyes had been on their cab. "Is this normal behaviour for Weeping Angels?"

"No, they never come out into the open like this. Well," The Doctor shrugged, "except for the Statue of Liberty."

"The what?!"

"Worry about that another time John," Sherlock said back. Another Angel appeared in his line of sight. "Right now we have to get away from here. Ideas?"

"Well, it does help that people are starting to notice the Angels are now all on the ground." The Doctor turned to Sherlock and John; enough people were gathered around the cab that he felt safe-ish for the moment. "Let's go before we start getting questions."

The three took the opportunity to walk away, weaving through the crowd in the direction of the cemetery. At least they could count on the fact that they were close to their destination, and therefore the TARDIS.

Unfortunately, the closer they got to the cemetery, the less people there were to intercept the Weeping Angels there seemed to be following them. After a point, Sherlock was walking backwards while John and The Doctor were sidestepping. The moment they each had five Angels each in their sights, John asked what the huge plan was to escape.

The Doctor made a face; he really didn't anticipate the Angels to follow them so closely. He also didn't anticipate there to be as many Weeping Angels in London as there once had been in Manhattan. He suddenly got a flashback of Rory and Amy, and a terrible feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. The way things were looking, history would repeat itself.

"Doctor!" Sherlock screamed when John grabbed his wrist; three more had appeared.

"Uh...run!" The Doctor turned and ran. Sherlock and John followed quickly behind with their hands now locked so Sherlock, who ran a little faster, wouldn't leave John behind.

They kept running, eventually leaving the road to run through the grass to the TARDIS when it came into sight.

When the three were so close to the police box that The Doctor was grabbing the key from his pocket, John's hand tugged sharply on Sherlock's as he screamed.

Sherlock looked back in time to see John replaced by a Weeping Angel. "John!" His eyes watered and dashed around, looking frantically for any sign John escaped while trying to keep his eyes on the Angels in front of him. When he didn't see him anywhere, he slowly backed up towards the TARDIS yelling for The Doctor.

The Doctor ran over to Sherlock and grabbed the back of his jacket to pull him towards the TARDIS. "We have to go."

"But John--"

"Is gone Sherlock." He pulled the consulting detective back with a little more ease now. "I'm so sorry."

Once the Time Lord got them into the TARDIS and locked the door, he ran over to the console. Swiftly, he transported them back to Baker Street.

When they landed, The Doctor looked to Sherlock, who was just staring at him with hate and sadness in his eyes. He walked over to the human. "Sherlock, listen to me. We--" He was stopped by Sherlock's fist flying into his face.

"Take me back! John might still be alive!"

The Doctor tried very hard to ignore his bleeding nose and grabbed onto Sherlock's shoulders. "He's gone Sherlock," he pulled Sherlock into a hug even though he knew the detective may not like it, "he's gone." He rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder; he could feel his friend shaking, though from rage or sadness he wasn't sure.

Then suddenly The Doctor found himself shaking too. He didn't even know if he told Sherlock John was gone for Sherlock's benefit, or because of what happened only a month ago with the Ponds.

...

"'Inconclusive'?!" Alexis screamed at The Doctor. "I gave Mr. Holmes all of the information he needed to find my little girl, and he couldn't find her?!"

"I'm sorry, but there's just simply not enough to go on. Even Sherlock Holmes has his limitations," The Doctor lied.

She scowled and tried to push past him to get up the stairs to the living room of 221B. "Let me speak with him! I have to hear it from his mouth!"

"Now is not a good time!"

"How come?!"

The Doctor made a face and said carefully, "He lost the only person he really cares about yesterday. If you want to speak with him about the result of your case, you might want to wait for a while."

"But my daughter--"

"Ma'am," Lestrade said as he walked into the building, "please go. I'm from Scotland Yard," he said quickly before Alexis could continue to protest, "and I know Sherlock Holmes well. I can contact you later about your case if you want, but right now, he just needs to be left alone."

Alexis was pale and enraged that a man from Scotland Yard was here. She couldn't tell him anything or it might end badly, so she said, "No, never mind. Thank Mr. Holmes for trying." She turned and left.

Lestrade looked at The Doctor when the woman left. "Was that Sherlock's client?"

"I believe so." The Doctor looked at Lestrade. "Great to see you again." He looked at him with his head tilted. "You look like someone I met before."

"I saw you yesterday."

"No, before then." After a moment, The Doctor shook his head. "Never mind that."

Lestrade cocked one eyebrow at The Doctor, unsure how to take the man's quirkiness. He wasn't used to such a thing while at Baker Street. "Okay... Um, how's Sherlock doing?"

"How do you think?" The Doctor turned towards the stairs and led Lestrade up to the flat's living room.

Sherlock was sitting at his chair in his night clothes and dressing gown, and his violin in his lap. He wasn't even plucking it, it was just sitting there with his fingers hovering over the strings. His eyes were trained on the ceiling, but not on anything in particular. He wasn't necessarily bored, but he didn't know how to take being without John knowing that he wouldn't be coming back from Sarah's in the afternoon. He looked at John's empty chair, suddenly knowing how John must have felt when he disappeared after his final confrontation with Moriarty.

Of course, for Sherlock, there was no chance of things going back to normal.

John was dead.

Lestrade looked to The Doctor for a moment before he walked over to Sherlock. "Hey, are you...?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Sherlock lied; he knew even Lestrade would pick up the waver in his voice and redness of his eyes. He had been crying at points throughout the night, something he would never admit to anybody. Even he refuses to believe that he had cried at all, instead writing it off as a dream or nightmare. "I just lost my only friend, but I'm fine." He plucked harshly at one string on his violin.

Though both other men in the room felt a bit hurt at the statement, they didn't show it. Sherlock had lost the one person everyone was rather certain he cared about in the entire world. Hell, even his own brother didn't bring such emotion from him - with the exception of anger or contempt of course.

Unsure of what to say, Lestrade and The Doctor just stood there watching Sherlock glare at the empty chair, and exchanging looks between themselves.

After one terribly long minute of this, Mrs. Hudson came into room with a young man. He had brown-blonde hair and brown eyes, was in a leather jacket and dark blue jeans, and was carrying an envelope with Sherlock's name written on it.

Lestrade turned to the young man first. "I'm sorry, but in case you didn't see the sign on the door, Mr. Holmes is not taking any clients right now."

"I'm not a client," the young man said. "I have a note for Mr. Holmes from my great-great-grandfather." He stepped forward and held it out to Sherlock, who elected to continue ignoring him. The man took a breath and said, "My name is Jonathan Watson the fifth," now Sherlock looked up him, "and my grandfather, who the family still thinks is a total nutter even after all these years, left this note to be delivered to you at this date."

When Sherlock snatched away the note, Jonathan turned away to leave. He looked at Lestrade. "I left my address and number in the envelope, tell him if he wants to call me."

Lestrade nodded slowly, very confused. "Sure..."

Just as the man left, Sherlock jumped up out of his chair with a revitalized look in his entire body. "Go away," he told Lestrade and The Doctor. He scribbled something down on a piece of paper and then glanced back at them. "Lestrade I'll call you when I need the Yard's help. Doctor, come here for a moment."

The Doctor walked up to Sherlock as Lestrade left even more confused still. He looked down at the paper Sherlock handed him. There was only a date on it. "What's this?"

"According to this note," Sherlock gestured to it with a smile, "it's the date that John was sent to when the Angel sent him back."

"Sherlock, I can't--"

"Yes, yes, time locks and all that, it's explained in the note. However," Sherlock stood up and walked over to where John had kept his cane stored, "there is something you need to return to him." He handed The Doctor the cane. "Just to let him know I received the note. Also," he quickly wrote out another note, folded it, then handed it over, "give that to him as well. Be sure you arrive before he meets my grandfather, the first Sherlock Holmes. Also tell him that he is definitely well missed, and always will be."

Before The Doctor could even ask, Sherlock plopped down at behind the desk and logged into John's personal blog to type out the case report that had been written up over a hundred years ago.

The Time Lord saw this and smiled. He had a task to do before he could move on to other adventures, and he would do it quickly. He left Baker Street for the last time to travel back to the year 1881 to give John Hamish Watson a proper goodbye from the man's best friend.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*CASE REPORT*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*