Frustrated, Sherlock layed a map on the table. Beside that was a list of street names and several drawing pins. He scanned the list, violently stabbing the map with the multicoloured pins.
"None of them were in a direction similar direction to their house." He sighed loudly, running both his hands over his face and through his hair.
"They were being chased?" John asked, munching an apple as he walked to his chair.
"Obviously. And then they disappeared. Nowhere to be found." Sherlock fell onto the couch, and placed his hands under his chin in a steepled position.
"Serial kidnapper?" Sherlock pretended to think for a second.
"Wrong. LOOK." Sherlock threw some pictures to John, who sighed standing up to retrieve them. They depicted several pictures of graves, with the names and the date of their deaths ranging near and far in the past.
"All the names of the people, on graves."
"It's like they were transported back in time and lived a new life."
John looked at Sherlock like he was going insane, "Don't be ridiculous. You're obviously over-thinking this. It must be a coincidence."
"Then explain this." Sherlock threw another picture at John, "Her name was Pheonix. That name did not emerge until very recently. Yet, the name is on this grave from the 16th century. Her surname is also quite modern."
"That's impossible." John breathed. Sherlock stared at John.
"Exactly."