Touched By an Angel
By: rederani
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor Who or any of these characters.
Chapter 1
The woman was in hysterics. Tear filled eyes gazed at them hopefully and John only hoped that Sherlock wouldn't be as much of a jerk this time. The day was drawing to a close and just as they, meaning just John and not Sherlock, were about to turn in for the night, a woman started pounding on the door, begging to meet with the resident consulting detective.
"Please Mr. Holmes, you have to help me. I'd rather have you than the police investigating this. If you don't agree then I don't know what to do!" By this point, the woman had tears pouring down her face. She grabbed onto John and frantically started rambling on about strange old houses and angels. To be honest, John couldn't really make out what she was saying between the sobs and tissue pressed to her mouth.
He walked her into the flat, putting his arm around the woman hoping to comfort her. Guiding her to the chair, he glanced expectantly at Sherlock who had yet to look up from his makeshift chemistry set in the kitchen. Not another kettle, John thought, dreading to find out what his flat mate used it for this time. Last time he left the pot out, he returned to find it being used as a container for hydrochloric acid.
"Sherlock, are you coming? You have another client." John called over to Sherlock. When his flat mate didn't answer, he sat the woman down on the sofa and quickly hurried into the kitchen. Getting one of his spare pots out of the cabinet and leaving the water to boil for tea, he turned to the woman and said, "Just wait a moment. We'll be right there." And facing Sherlock, he added in a hushed whisper, "and you are going to see to this woman. I don't care if it is just a simple hit and run case."
"John, I have already decided-"
"No Sherlock," John interrupted, relishing the peeved look on his flat mate's face, "that poor woman in there is in tears and came to you specifically. I won't allow you to turn her away without at least looking into this case." When it looked like the consulting detective was going to open his mouth, John cut in again and added, "All day you have been complaining about how bored you are. The last thing Mrs. Hudson needs is another face on her wall."
"If you would have let me finished before you rudely cut me off, John, then you would know that I have already decided to take on the case."
"But you haven't even talked to her! How can you know what she wants?"
"Seriously John, use your eyes and pay attention. All over the news, haven't you heard about the missing persons reports?"
"Well, yes but that's missing persons. Normally you look into murders and psychopathic criminal masterminds."
Suddenly, Sherlock stood up and walked over to the woman who was still sitting on the couch. "Mrs. …"
"Hamlin, Julianne Hamlin", she provided.
"Yes Mrs. Hamlin, you're here about a missing person case, aren't you?" he asked. "More specifically, you're here because someone close to you, most likely your husband judging by your emotional state and the ring on your finger, has mysteriously disappeared. Disappeared from an old abandoned house located in Newport."
She looked up at him and silently nodded and asked, "How did you know?"
He looked at her annoyed and began pacing, "I don't know, I noticed. Really, it is quite obvious. Considering the state of your hair and clothes, I can tell that you have not had time to change before meeting us here. The moss and bits of vegetation on your shoes suggest that you were off the streets of London, but not in the forest. There are no mud tracks on the floor for that. Therefore you must have been visiting a more suburban or rural part of the country and came directly here after. And then there's the reason you've visited us. Lately in the papers, there have been reports of people disappearing from the Newport area. No one knows about how they disappear or who takes them, but every once in a while, these missing people leave behind items as evidence of their existence. So many cars over the past few months have been left outside a single building on Park Road Avenue. Police have even found some with motors still running. A most peculiar case. Conclusion; you and your spouse were looking around the building when he disappeared. By listening to your ramblings from when you walked through the door, it is obvious to see that you have information the others don't. I have been waiting for a case like this for quite some time now, so pray tell, what happened to you and your husband, Mrs. Hamlin?" Sherlock abruptly stopped his pacing and looked expectantly to Mrs. Hamlin.
"Brilliant" John breathed and after getting a look from Sherlock, he added, "Sorry, right, case at hand."
"Well," Mrs. Hamlin started in a shaky voice, "you were right about me and my husband visiting the house. We live around the corner from the house and wanted to explore and see what was inside." She stopped when she saw Sherlock settle down into his chair and close his eyes.
"Don't worry, he's still listening. Continue." John said to her.
"Okay, me and my husband-"
"My husband and I," Sherlock corrected without even turning in her direction.
"Umm, right, well my husband and I were in the house taking pictures on my mobile. We found a nice looking statue outside in the garden. We photographed it and then went back inside. There was strange writing on the wall, which was covered up with paint. We wanted to get a closer look and..." She broke off here, and began to start and sob again. "Here, I have the pictures on my mobile, just please look. I don't know how it is possible or what happened. All I know is that my Alex was taken from me." Mrs. Hamlin handed her purple floral mobile to John and he began to look at the photos. Sherlock was now leaning over his shoulder, looking on with him.
The first photo was of Mrs. Hamlin. Her long blond hair and dainty frame made her easily recognizable. Next to her was a tall young man with short brown hair and glasses perched precariously low on his nose. They were standing in front of an old and worn house, which he could only guess was on Park Road Avenue. There were a few pictures of plain rooms and of either Mr. or Mrs. Hamlin posing in front of various objects. The next two were taken outside of the house in the garden and showed Mr. Hamlin standing next to an enormous statue of an angel. It was beautiful workmanship, so life-like; one could have said it was real. The strangest thing about it was that there wasn't any sign of decay or crumbling and there wasn't even any moss on it like the other statues in the garden. Swiping on the mobile's pad, John came across a video and pressed play.
The couple was back in the house again, looking at red marks on the wall. Mrs. Hamlin was holding the device and zooming in on one of the walls. She began talking, "Look at this Alex. I wonder what it said before someone painted it up. All that's left is the word NO."
"Weird. Wonder who lived here before, don't you Jules? One thing's for certain, they didn't have very good cleaners." Mr. Hamlin said, kicking a piece of rubble. Moving over to the window, he looked out through a crack in the pane into the garden. "There's something weird about this place, and it's not because it looks like somewhere amateur ghost hunters flock to. Feels like someone's watching you. Anyway, what'dya say we wrap this up." The camera swung back to the writing on the wall.
"I supposed we can find out at home. There must be some entry online about this place, don't you think?" Mrs. Hamlin asked, looking back to her spouse. When he gave a nod in agreement, she turned and started walking for the door. "Let's hope none of this topples down on our way out," she said jokingly. She moved the camera again to look back at Mr. Hamlin, but no one was there. "Alex?" she called. "Where are you?" After walking back in the direction of the room and still not finding him, she called out again with a little worry coloring her tone, "Alex? If this is one of your jokes, I'm not laughi-"
"Oh my God," she whispered for standing in the middle of the room was the statue of the angel.
John looked up confused from the video as it ended. "Go back to 1:53," Sherlock commanded. Dragging the video back to the allotted time, he watched again as the camera moved from Mr. Hamlin to the wall, and then back to the man. Recognizing the look in his flat mate's eyes, John asked, "What? What is it?"
"The angel, John, look at the angel." Pausing the image and looking at the frozen frame, John saw what Sherlock was talking about. The angel had moved from its original spot in the garden to only a few meters away from the window. The move was subtle but now that Sherlock had pointed it out, it was easy to see. "Then again at the end of the video it moves into the room. I wonder who moved it. Could have been the kidnappers, but why? What could they have gained from moving a statue? I was right Mrs. Hamlin, you do have information the others didn't. But why didn't you show this to the police?"
"One of my coworkers in the office employed you a few months ago. You probably don't remember her, Sandra Williams. She said that when the police gave up on her son's murder case, you were the one to solve it. They haven't been doing anything about the disappearances as of late and I figured that you would be more of a help."
"Ah finally, someone who recognizes the police's incompetency. Come along John, and you too Mrs. Hamlin. We have a house visit to make."
"But its eleven o'clock!" John exclaimed.
"Doesn't matter, the game, Dr. Watson, is on!"