"Find anything?" Lestrade asked.
"No, nothing useful."
"So you don't know anything?"
"It appears I am out of my depth here."
"The great Sherlock Holmes, out of his depth?"
"Shut up, John."
"Now what?" John asked, ignoring Sherlock's request.
"Now it is time to call in an expert."
"And who might that be?" Lestrade asked.
•••
Sherlock said nothing. He merely pulled out his phone and began dialing. "Hello? Of course, who else? It's good to hear you, too. Your voice sounds different. Oh, I should have guessed. No, you know me too well. Of course. Well, it's kind of difficult to explain. The case. Yes. Fine, I need your help with a case. Because it seems... I don't know, extraterrestrial. I think aliens might be involved. Who? No, we haven't called them yet. Can't you come help us? Busy? Since when are you too busy to help a friend. A brother. Since when are you too busy to help your family? Okay, that does sound pretty nasty, I'll give you that. Right then, I'll call them, but promise me this: if they can't help, you will. Got it? Good. I'll call you back if we need your help. All right. Bye."
"Mycroft?" John asked.
"Of course not. Why would it be Mycroft?" Sherlock replied tersely.
"Well you did say 'brother'," Lestrade pointed out. Sherlock gave Watson a knowing look.
"It's... complicated. The point is, he might be able to help. But there are a few other people he wanted to ask first. Do we have contact with Torchwood?"
"How does he know about Torchwood? It's top secret!"
"It doesn't matter how he knows. Do we have contact?"
"Yes."
"Call them."
•••
"You've reached the main call center for Torchwood. To ask about alien technology, press 1. To borrow alien technology stored at our facility, press 2. To ask about job opportunities, press 3. To warn of possible danger with aliens or alien technology, press 4. To offer an invention for the benefit of Torchwood industries, press 5. To give us a piece of alien technology you have found, press 6. To report an alien sighting, press 7. To access our files on technology, press 8. To access our files on aliens, press 9."
"Finally!" Sherlock punched 9. "Which alien did you wish to know about?" Sherlock realized he didn't know the name of the aliens. "Press 1 to go back," the recording said helpfully. Sherlock pressed 1. "You've reached the main call center for Torchwood. To ask about..." Sherlock pressed 7.
"Hello, this is Captain Jack Harkness from Torchwood. Describe the alien you saw in as much detail as possible."
"Well... um... I didn't actually see it."
"Then describe its victims in as much detail as possible."
"They have black tally marks on their bodies. The cause of death is a shock to the heart. We can't identify the type of energy. It's not something we use here on earth."
"Is that all?"
"That's it."
"Well then sorry, but I can't help you. None of our records match your description." Sherlock jabbed his finger on the screen to hang up.
"I miss the days of telephones that weren't mobile, when you could slam down the receiver to hang up. Much more satisfying." Watson chuckled at that remark.
•••
"So now what?"
"Well, we could also call UNIT."
"We can," Lestrade said. "But I don't think they'll be able to help. They care more about shooting aliens than cataloging them. Their database is even smaller than Torchwood's. Still, it's worth a try." He dialed a number on the phone and handed it to Sherlock. Again he described the aliens, or rather, the victims, and again he got no result. Sherlock slammed the phone on the table.
"Idiots, all of them. A great big bunch of idiots!"
"Calm down, Sherlock. The murder won't get solved by shouting." Sherlock glared at Watson. "Don't give me that look, you know I'm right. Ah. That's what the look is for. Well stop it, you big baby. Anyway, that means it's time to call your friend again, right?"