Recap
"Well, I'm off. Got to sort things with Sarah at the clinic." John leaves quietly, whilst we continue to flick through the papers for a new case.
"More dissapearances," I mutter quietly, looking at the pictures above the article.I look up, smiling, as the phone rings. Dad answers it immediately, slipping the phone from his pocket.
"Lestrade," he greets, pausing and allowing the DI to speak. "Brilliant, we'll be there in five." He drops his mobile back into his pocket.
"Good news?" I question, shutting the paper.
"The best. We're going to the graveyard."
Chapter One
I jump up, grabbing my coat and wrapping my scarf around my neck as I follow after dad down the stairs. "It's about those dissapearances you were talking about," he says as we reach the street. "Lestrade has been looking into it and he has reason to believe that these people are being murdered." I nod thoughtfully as a cab comes around the corner.
"So he needs us."
"Basically," dad agrees, holding his hand out to hail. "Taxi!" The car pulls up and we step in, the driver looking at us expectantly for the address. "Highgate Cemetery, please." he nods and drives off. "All of these dissapearances have one, noticable thing in common."
"They were all visiting the cemetery," I complete, grimly. Dad nods. "Always wanted a graveyard mystery," I joke dryly. Obviously John's habits are rubbing off on me.
The cab pulls up by the gates twenty minutes later, and I step out as dad hands the driver some cash, looking around.
"Sophie, Sherlock," a familiar voice calls, and I spin around to face the DI. "Glad you could make it."
"Has anything happened since you rang?" I question, looking up at the stone arch by the entrance to the graveyard.
"Not a thing," Lestrade admits, leading us in. "We've tried looking for patterns in the times of these disappearances, but there doesn't seem to be any." I gaze around the open area as we walk through and I feel a shiver down my back. It just feels so ... lonely. I whip my head around as I see something move in my peripharal vision, but I see nothing but a stone angel, standing with her hands over her eyes, as if mourning for the loss of a loved one.
Lestrade stops walking as we reach the shelter of the trees, where the light is dim.
"This was where Christine Blake was last seen," he tells us, looking around for himself as we walk the area, looking for indents in the leaves where Christine could have walked away. "A dog walker noticed her standing by that grave, over there." He points to a stone beneath the trees, where moss has begun to grown over the top, hiding the name from sight. I walk over and brush my hand over the top and narrow my eyes at what I see.
"Have you found anything in this immediate area that could belong to Christine?" I question, still staring at the stone.
"No, but we've contacted her family to let them know," Lestrade replies. Picking up on the curiosity in my voice, dad steps over to join me.
"Get onto them and research her recent family history up to seventy years ago. See if there are any repetitions in names," I demand, and Lestrade nods his head. Dad turns to me as the DI walks away, his phone to his ear.
"The Christine beneath this grave has only recently died," he says, lowering his voice. "It's nearly impossible for the Christine who dissapeared to be visiting the remains of a relation who had died that very day. Not even the quickest burials happen the same day."
"There must be some reason," I remind him, looking at the date on the stone again. "There has to be." There's no mistake, the headstone specifically says that Christine Blake died today.
