I take the taxi home alone in a feeble attention to gather my thoughts. This goes against everything I've ever learnt about real life, and brings me crashing down into fantasy. I don't know what to think about this case. I'm still expecting somebody, dad or Lestrade, to jump out with a chorus of 'April Fools!' but it's the wrong month, and I have that constant nagging which tells me that it is all real. My mind flickers back to the warning Sam Jones gave me about going into the cemetery. Is he going senile? Is he even Sam Jones? Then again, there's the possibility that he was drugged into believing he had gone back into time. But then that doesn't explain the increased ageing speed.
John's home when I return and I trot up the stairs, still undecided on what to do next.
"Case?" John questions, looking up from his phone as I enter.
"Yeah," I say vaguely, making John look up.
"What?"
"I don't know," I admit, sighing and sitting myself down in dad's chair, my eyes glancing hungrily at the apple in the bowl before drawing them away again. I can survive. "It's a bit of an unusual one."
"Oh yeah?" John smirks, thinking back to our last case. "What are we comparing this to?" I glare at him for a moment before summarising the case so far, explaining about the graveyard, the house and the patient, and probably making no sense at all to John. To my surprise, he smiles. "A bit 'Doctor Who', isn't it?" I frown, not sure for a moment what he's going on about.
"What's that?" I question, looking at him with a concentrated stare. John sends me back a look of disbelief.
"You've got to be kidding me," he laughs. "You don't know who the doctor is?"
"What do you mean?" I insist. "You're the doctor, the only doctor I know personally, at least." I say, not counting his girlfriend. John shakes his head in consistent disbelief, but I'm saved from his continual mutter by the arrival of my dad.
"Lestrade called," dad says, getting straight to the point.
"And...?" I question, standing up. John puts his phone down, interested.
"Christine Blake was the first of her name on both sides of the family until July, 1920," dad begins, but I sense there's something else.
"Until?"
"Christine Blake appeared, seemingly out of the blue. A middle aged woman."
"Another 'time travel' case then?" John questions and dad frowns at him.
"What?" he questions, just as puzzled as I am on this topic. John smirks, shaking his head with a smug smile. He knows something we don't.
"So Christine Blake and her son supposedly travelled backwards in time to get to the 20's," I begin, thinking this over. "How is that possible?"
"I don't think it is," dad mutters, his mind palace failing him for once. "There must be something I'm missing, something right in front of me." I shake my head.
"There is nothing else," I say gently. "We've searched their house. What was Jacob Blake's cause of death?"
"Molly's still looking through the records," dad says. "She said she'll text us when she gets them through." I nod.
"This doesn't make any sense," I say through gritted teeth. "I can't see what else it can be. But time travel? Seems impossible."
"It may seem impossible, but it's the only theory we have," dad says reluctantly.
"'No matter how improbable it may seem,'" I quote from our website.
"Exactly," dad says, and then slides his phone out from his pocket. "That's Molly; she wants us over at Bart's for the results." I nod in acknowledgment and gather my things together.
"Coming?" I ask John.
"Mm, yes, if you want me too." He stands up and follows me towards the door.
