John followed Sally and Sherlock into the back room. The walls of it were plastered of photographs of various statues, some seeming extremely menacing and others completely normal and innocent looking.
"They're called the weeping angels," Sally began to whisper. "They only can move when nothing is looking at it. Including itself, so having two angels is as much of an advantage as it is a disadvantage. But, you've only got one, right?"
"Yes," Sherlock said. "What do they do?"
"If they touch you, you get transported into a different time."
"The statues are of a... supernatural nature?"
"Yes, I suppose. But I've dealt with them before."
"Who helped you?"
"This man," she said, "the Doctor. He somehow knew all about it."
"John, I know everything I need to know," Sherlock said, turning to John. "Let's go."
"Thank you for your time," John added as an attempt to seem polite.
"Just don't blink!" Sally shouted after them. "Don't even blink," She said, significantly quieter this time, as her baby was woken up.
"Do you really believe that?" John asked Sherlock outside of the store.
"Not a bit," Sherlock said. "She's barking. There's got to be a reasonable explanation for this."
The duo headed back to the crime scene in a taxi, Sherlock murmuring to himself and John patiently waiting for Sherlock to speak again.
"Do you have any ideas, then? For how it was done?"
"No."
"So then how are you sure she's mad?"
"Because there's nothing supernatural. Not on Earth."
Returning to the cellar of the Williams', John and Sherlock studied the cracks in the wall's creases. "Sherlock," John said, seeing an odd substance that he didn't recognize, "what's this?"
Sherlock didn't say anything.
"Sherlock?" John asked, turning around.
Sherlock was gone.