Chapter 4: The Timelord, the Consulting Detective and the Winchesters
"Woooooow." Sam said. He and the Doctor were walking down the streets of Victorian London en route to Baker Street to try to shed some light on these events with the help of the Consulting Detective who resided there.
"Yes. But how?!" The Doctor turned to Sam, slightly frantic -waving and gesturing with his hands. "How did we even got here? I mean it's a fictional world! The rift to get here should not be open, we shouldn't even be here!"
"Keep your voice down!" Sam said, raising his voice to drown out the Doctor's and avoid some weird looks from people around them.
"Right, sorry." The Doctor said. "This is just… so different. There's no planet like this."
"Yeah I get that. But hey, we're looking for Sherlock Holmes. Maybe he could help."
The Doctor suddenly stopped walking but Sam continued until he realized the Doctor had paused and he had to take a few paces back towards him. "Or we could go back to TARDIS." The Timelord suggested.
"We both know you don't want that, come on! Sign says we're on the right street." Sam said, pointing at the street sign hanging above their heads. The Doctor looked up then grinned.
"Alright, lets go!"
A few steps later and counting the houses' door numbers, the two found themselves at the foyer of 221B Baker Street. The number was golden and engraved into the black door with a knocker below it. The Doctor stepped up with Sam close behind him, he gripped the knocker but before he could put it back to knock the door suddenly opened –revealing an elderly woman with a kind smile.
"Hello sir. What can I do for you?"
"Uhm- is Sherlock Holmes at home?" The Doctor frowned at the rhyme in his words but the woman chuckled.
"He's not, he's out because of that attack again. I'm Mrs. Hudson, his landlady. If you want I can say you paid a visit Mr…?" Mrs. Hudson said, leaving the end of her sentence open for the man to supply his name.
"Oh no!" the Doctor shook his head, "I'll just go back. I'd like to see him in person. It's uh- a delicate matter."
"I see." Mrs. Hudson turned her head to the side, wondering.
"Yes. Uh- we'll be going now. Sorry to disturb you." The Doctor said and nodded his goodbye to Mrs. Hudson.
Mrs. Hudson was about to close the door but the man started speaking again, "Mrs. Hudson…?"
"Yes, dear?"
"The church, which one is it?"
"Oh! It's Westminster Cathedral." Mrs. Hudson answered.
"Ooooh. Thank you."
"That's alright. Although I wouldn't go there right now if I were you. The police are investigating again."
The Doctor nodded, "Yeah, definitely not planning to."
Mrs. Hudson chuckled before finally closing the door. The Doctor flagged the passing empty carriage before Sam jumped to bring the Doctor's hand down. "Do you even have money?" the younger Winchester asked in concern.
The Doctor frowned, thinking, before digging into his pockets -he brought out a few pennies and showed them to Sam who sighed. "Come on, I have a few dollars lets exchange them at the bank."
"Right, money. Never been a problem before." The Timelord said, looking a bit disappointed.
"Nuh uh, none of that, lets go!" Sam cheerfully said before dragging the Doctor to the bank at the corner of the street.
The two didn't notice the man in a trench coat, tilting his head and looking at them with wonder in his eyes, hidden across the street.
Dean walked through the corridor of St. Barts with Sherlock Holmes beside him. Sherlock had his coat dramatically whipping behind him causing Dean to roll his eyes.
Honestly, even if he idolized the man he didnt peg him for being such a drama queen. But hey, he's enjoying this.
"What are you going to do with them exactly?"
"Examine the hearts. It might give us some clues." Sherlock answered. He hurriedly opened the next door and strode directly to the woman sitting behind a lab table. "Ah Molly, great, I need to see the victims' hearts."
"Uhm- who is he?" Molly pointed at Dean who was standing beside Sherlock, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Molly he's not my son. He's a friend of mine Dean Winchester." Sherlock said, rather bored of the constant question and repetitive introductions –and by gods, Molly thinking that Dean is his son.
"Hi." Dean smiled before Sherlock persisted.
"Molly I need to see the hearts."
"Yes, alright. Sorry, wait." Molly hurriedly stood up and went to collect the hearts for Sherlock. The organs each carefully kept in a container to keep it fresh and to preserve any clues that might be in there.
With the hearts laid out in front of him, Sherlock put on a pair of surgical gloves and turned on the light beside him.
"Wow, old stuff huh." Dean commented, fiddling with an old fashioned laboratory tool.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, he saw the equipment humanity had invented at Dean's time and yes, they were very efficient. Sadly, he couldn't stay at that point in time. Especially since he was not meant to be there.
The Consulting Detective held a magnifying glass close to the heart. Noting the protruding veins and clogged arteries.
"This one suggests a heart attack as a cause of death, before the heart was removed..." Sherlock noted the way the heart was cut out, "...surgically."
Leaning back in his chair, Dean threw his head back looking at the ceiling. "What could possibly be the cause of that heart attack? Is the attacker so ugly that the victim got so horrified at his face?" Dean said, meaning the last part as a joke.
"Yes."
"What?" Dean scrambled to his feet, looking at Sherlock with wide eyes.
"Yes, you're right. The attacker looked so hideous that this victim -Louie Jones, 58- died. Aside from his age and an obvious heart disorder, that fact is one of the reasons of his heart attack."
"Ugh, ew." Dean sat back, making a face at that little fact in their case. "Not a wendigo though. I mean, sure, they look awful but they don't leave anything behind."
"Wendigo?" Sherlock asked, interested.
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Creature who eats people to keep themselves alive. They believe it gives them strength, speed and if you eat enough -immortality. Wendigo is a Cree Indian word meaning "evil that devours". But they usually dwell in forests to avoid human attention, you know how humans can kill when they all cooperate for the same cause. The witches around 14th or 15th century is the proof of that."
Sherlock barely shook his head at the new information before returning his attention to the evidence in front of him. He turned to examine the other two to confirm what he found on the first one. "There are... claw marks. Barely visible, but there is."
Dean stood behind him and Sherlock handed him the magnifying glass, leading his hand to where he found the marks on each heart. There were nail - like scratch marks on them. Like a pointed something scratched at it before it stopped or was held back.
"Yeah, those are claw marks."
"The length of each and the depth at the beginning and at the end suggests that the clawing was stopped... before the heart was removed."
"Surgically."
"Yes. Meaning there isn't only one." Sherlock turned to Dean. "If the creature who made these claw marks was stopped -"
Dean interrupted him, voicing his thoughts out loud. "There has to be someone to stop him. Because this types of creature doesn't have the will power to stop himself."
Sherlock nodded, turning his attention back to the table.
"But why? Why return the hearts back to the church?" Dean asked.
"Trophies. He's taking them out and sending them to the church as a trophy. Every criminal likes to have a signature. They all want to be recognized, be famous with their crimes." Sherlock clenched his fist. "This one definitely likes to be known."
Dean pinched his nose and sighed through his teeth. "Well that sucks."
"Typical thinking of a psychopath." Sherlock said, gesturing off handedly.
"And a monster this time." Dean said, putting both hands on his waist.
Sherlock proceeded to close the lid of each container with the heart inside, piled them side by side and left them on the table. He fetched his trench coat and called out to Molly.
"I'm done, Molly. You can return them back."
"Thank you, Molly." Dean said to the woman who nodded back and quickly followed Sherlock outside.
"Where to now?"
"Back to Baker Street. We still have to deal with the dinner party."
"Oh noooo. I told you I am not going in there!" Dean whined, stomping his feet before dragging them instead of walking properly.
"I didn't know you can be really petulant, Dean."
The elder Winchester rolled his eyes before gripping the right arm of Sherlock's coat and started whining again. "Sherlawwwwk, puh-lease puh-please puh-PLEASE!"
Sherlock merely turned his head away from him before darting off down the corridor and back out into the street, running quickly and nearly had Dean falling on his face.
"Oh real mature, Sherlock! REAL MATURE!"
Sherlock just playfully saluted at him at the entrance of the hospital and Dean dragged his feet again, slowly walking towards the detective to irritate him. But Sherlock just crossed his arms and smirked at Dean, not having any of his shit.
The Doctor and Sam found themselves sitting on the pavement across from Sherlock Holmes' flat at Baker Street, unsuccessfully exchanging Sam's money to pounds when they both realized Sam was from the 20th century. Well, not really them - they hadn't realized, but the woman at the bank did.
"What kind of money is that?!" The woman asked.
Sam quickly pocketed his money, realizing his mistake. "Oh it's uh- play money. I think my brother exchanged it for the real one. I'm so sorry." Sam said, sheepishly smiling at the woman as he backed away from the counter and grabbed the Doctor's arm -dragging him out of the establishment.
"Weeell! I didn't see that one coming." The Doctor said.
"Me too. Now how do we go there?"
"You know, I should've accepted that Constable's offer."
"Yeah, you should have." Sam said.
"Let's just wait for our Consulting Detective then."
The two stood up, patting their backs to remove the dirt from the pavement when a black carriage stopped in front of 221B, Sherlock stepped out of it followed by another person-
Wait for it…
"Dean?!" Sam said, eyes widening and looking shocked.
The Doctor stared at Sam, then back to Sherlock and the man- no, a boy standing beside him who had the same look when the carriage took its leave and he could see the others across the street.
"Sammy?!"
"Dean!" Sam ran to his brother, looking at each side of the road to see if it was safe to cross.
Dean hugged his brother. "Sammy, wha- how?"
The Doctor caught up to Sam and look at Sherlock up and down as the detective stared at the brothers then turn his attention to the man in a long brown trench coat with his hair sticking out, making it look like he kept running his fingers through it -and return his unwavering gaze.
"Hello, I'm the Doctor." The Timelord cheerfully introduced, holding his hand out.
"Because of him." Sam nodded at the Doctor's direction to answer his brother's question.
Sherlock took the man -the Doctor's hand and shook it firmly. "Sherlock Holmes." He spared Dean a glance before declaring, "I think we should talk about this inside."
They all nodded and followed Sherlock inside where Mrs. Hudson served them tea after informing Sherlock that they're the ones looking for him earlier.
Sherlock crossed his legs and put his cup of tea on the small table beside him in the living room. The Winchesters were sitting on the couch while the Doctor sat across from them.
"So how did you two get here? You are surely not of this world."
"We're not. I'm a Timelord, from planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. That is Sam Winchester, he's from the 1994-"
"Wait!" Dean interrupted. "How come you're here?"
"How come you're here, Dean?" Sam bitchfaced at his brother.
"That's not important, Sammy."
"And why I got here is oh so important?"
"Of course it is! You're eleven years old, bitch."
"You're fifteen, jerk."
"THE TARDIS!" The Doctor interrupted before it got too heated between the brothers. "It stands for Time and Relative Dimension In Space. I was hoping to give Sam a tour in all of time and space but she took us here. In a fictional world."
Sherlock put his hands in a prayer- like pose under his chin. "How?"
"We don't know. How did Dean get here?"
"Isn't there supposed to be a barrier or something that divides my world from yours?" The Detective asked, putting his elbows on his knees to look and listen closely to the Doctor.
"Yes, there's supposed to be a rift." The Timelord answered. "And there must be something wrong with it. Because I couldn't travel through it before. But now I can, whether intentionally or not."
Sherlock delved into his mind, deciding whether or not to trust this man. The information he held was astounding and it explained how Sherlock could hop into reality then back to his own fictional world. Wearily, Sherlock decided to trust the man named the Doctor- a Timelord as he claimed to be- Sherlock emerged from his mind palace and back into the present.
"Hm." Was all Sherlock said before he stood up and started pacing around the room. "That must be how."
"How what?" Sam asked.
"How you can get back in and out." Dean said, staring at the floor in front of him.
"Yes, that must be it."
"Be what?"
Sherlock rounded on the Doctor. "I can get in and out of this world. Last time I chose to get out, I brought Dean back to assist me."
"That must be how Sam and I got passed the rift!"
"Quite possibly." Sherlock said.
"But how?! How can you get out of this world in the first place?" the Doctor asked, now standing in excitement too.
"It's my book. The Sherlock Holmes books I bought. It's like Sherlock's passage in and out." Dean answered.
"Yes. I think of it, and wherever the book is I appear at that place. I know Dean is the owner because I can sometimes hear him reading the book." Sherlock said. "I discovered I could get in and out when I got into the recesses of my mind where I once thought that all of this may not be real. And then after that, that's all I do to use it."
The Doctor nodded slowly, understanding the repercussions of this event. "If it's only you, Sherlock -the only fictional character who can do this- then the only reason this happened is because the TARDIS followed another open rift. That is because you recently used it to transport yourself and Dean back to this world."
The three were listening to him intently so the Doctor continued, "Which means, there's actually no reason to close the rift. Since you can always open it at will." the Timelord finished, pointing a finger to Sherlock.
"Yes, well. We can always think of that later. Right now, I have a killer and monster to catch. Not to mention a dinner party to attend." Sherlock said. "Wherein Dean and I have to attend."
"We'll attend too." The Doctor said, smiling.
"You can't, you don't have an invitation." Sherlock countered, walking to his bedroom.
"Actually, we do." The Doctor said, holding his psychic paper out.
All three of them answered. "That paper is blank."
"Oh no its not. Trust me." The Doctor grinned. "Its really not."
Back at the red and blue house Sherlock and Dean passed by earlier, Mr. Novak was greeted warmly by his butler. "Mr. Novak, an invitation has arrived from the good Lord Moran. Inviting you to his dinner party tomorrow night at his manor."
"Yes." Mr. Novak said, "Thank you."
Mr. Novak was really Castiel, an angel of the Lord. He had to take the great-great-grandfather of his vessel to guard Dean and, apparently, his brother in this world. He knew Dean couldn't see him, now is not the right time to meet. But he had to secure his safety.
Which meant he had to attend this dinner party.
Searching the mind of his vessel to see what he ought to do, Castiel ordered his butler. "Please prepare me a tuxedo for tomorrow night. I will be resting in my room, since it's already nearing the night and I'm tired from my walking earlier, so please do not disturb me."
"Of course, Mr. Novak."
Once in Mr. Novak's room, Castiel stared at his vessel's face. This man looked almost exactly the same as Jimmy Novak -the vessel Castiel knew he will use to save and meet Dean Winchester- except this one had his hair tamed. Must be the year, Victorian Era London has men with class and fine combed hair.
Mr. Novak was merely known as Mr. Novak throughout London. He was a wealthy businessman who just very recently arrived to check his business here in London. So Castiel will just use that information.
He hoped he didn't have to socialize tomorrow night, he doesn't really know what to do.