AN /: Once again, huge thankyou's to those who favourited, put this story on alert, or gave a review. It all helps, and I am so very, very thankful. Also, while this chapter is entirely from John's POV I promise the next chapter will be from Sherlock's, because I just know that some of you are itching to see how two of the smartest men alive (in this story, anyway) get along together. Anyways, thanks for reading, and here we go!
O.o.O.o.O
The Angel, The Detective, And The Phone Box
Ch 4. Disconcerting
The wind is still howling outside the house, rattling the window and making the walls creak. John notes to himself as he walks by the same stretch of wall that, maybe if they get rid of the killer statues somehow, this house would make an amazing tourist attraction as a haunted house.
At the moment John is pacing opposite the hole that Sherlock and the Doctor disappeared through, his hands in his pockets and his head bowed. He is wearing his black jacket, a knitted jumper, a long sleeved shirt and a singlet and he still feels cold.
Behind him Amy is leaning next to the window, her arms crossed over her chest as she clutches her large red jumper close to her body, and she is absently staring out the window, occasionally making small sounds from the back of her throat. Rory is sitting against the wall opposite in a small spot that he has cleared of glass shards, staring at his feet rather than the door. He has balanced the torch in the middle of the room and the light only illuminates him from the chin up, giving the impression that he has somehow misplaced his body. There is an awkward silence between the three of them as they wait for Sherlock and the Doctor to return, and a small, not very sensible part of John's brain is afraid that if he says anything the angels will hear him and come get him. Of course, the angels will hear him, but it's not like they could get at him if he can see them and the torch is working perfectly.
"What's it like,' Amy says suddenly,' living with Sherlock Holmes?"
John stops pacing and turns to face her, taking in her long red hair and big round eyes. She looks too young to be getting into this sort of danger, but there is a glint in her eyes that hints of experience beyond her years.
"It's amazing,' John says after a while, completely honestly,' it's amazing, it's frustrating, and it's dangerous. But I'm never bored."
"What's 221b like?" Amy asks, sounding enthused. She is looking at him with stars in her eyes, as if John is telling her about some famous celebrity. He wonders why she is so keen to know all about him and his life, but the only explanation is that she is either an avid follower of his blog or Sherlock's website.
"It's just an apartment,' he replies, shrugging,' fairly small, the heating doesn't work properly, and every now and then I find body parts in the fridge or in jars, so you have to watch what you pick up. It's like you're constantly on alert."
Amy makes a face, scrunching her nose up in disgust. "Body parts in the fridge? Really?"
"Really really,' John says, and this time he laughs,' most of the time it's just small things like fingers or bits of organs, but on one occasion there was actually a severed head."
"No way."
"Yeah."
"Seriously, a severed head?"
"A real, severed, human head."
"That's disgusting!"
"It was an experiment."
"That's so weird,' Amy laughs, moving her hands to her pockets and leaning a foot up against the wall.
"I suppose it is,' John says,' but I'm used to it now, really, so it doesn't bother me much unless it's all over the kitchen table and there's nowhere to eat."
When John falls silent Amy looks down at her feet again, and with no more questions the room lapses into a quietness that is both eerie and peaceful. And then, without warning, a flash of light bursts into the room, and a few seconds later there is a soft pattering noise against the roof.
"Brilliant, just brilliant..." Rory mutters, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck viciously.
"How cliché is this,' Amy says, a hint of laughter in her voice,' we're in a haunted house, at night, during at thunderstorm."
"What's so cliché about alien statues?" Rory asks, and he has to shout over the rain as it begins to pound harder against the walls.
Amy tries to say something but her voice is drowned out by a booming clap of thunder. The walls of the house shake, as if it has gained a life of its own. John's shoulder is beginning to ache now and he stops pacing to clear a space on the floor beside Rory, sweeping the glass away with his foot. Rory looks awkward but makes no attempt to move away, and then another clap of thunder makes the walls shake violently and causes Amy to give up her spot by the window and slide down next to Rory. They clasp hands and Amy leans her head into Rory's shoulder, and John remembers the sensation of having to sit next to couples on the bus to school. Sweet to watch, but awkward to be around.
They sit in silence, no sign from either the Doctor or Sherlock, and eventually after what feels like hours the rain eases up to a pattering, rather than a pummelling. And then they hear it.
It is like someone has taped fingers screeching down a blackboard, shrieking, and a jackhammer and blended it into one sound, then turned it up to eleven. The noise sends shivers down John's spine and makes him wish dearly that he is curled up back in 221b in his armchair with a book and a steaming mug of sweet tea. By reflex John reaches down to where his gun is tucked into the back of his belt, and even though he is not sure how much use it will be against stone statues it does make him feel a little better.
"What the hell is that?" Rory exclaims in alarm. John looks across at the pair and sees that Amy has gone pale, all the blood drained from her face. Without a word she gets up and walks over to the window, looking outside and shivering viciously.
"They're laughing..." Amy says in a whisper that John has to struggle to hear.
"That's laughter ?" Rory says, incredulous. Amy just nods, still staring out the window.
John gets up and walks over to Amy, standing beside her as she stares out through the rain-streaked glass. The grounds outside are black, devoid of light and smothered by the shadows. A streak of lightening rips through the sky above, long enough to cast light on the grounds below, and for a fleeting second John can see them. The angels are outside on the grass, four of them, all looking up with blank faces. It is unsettling and eerie, and it makes John shudder.
If there is one thing that John has learnt as a doctor, it is that a brave face is everything. Even when someone is on the verge of dying, a brave face can cause them to hold on for just that little bit longer, enough time to save their life. John has seen fear, he knows what it looks like and knows that it is etched all over both Rory and Amy's faces. And so he puts on a brave face, smiles just a bit, and puts a hand on Amy's shoulder. The lightning flashes again, and John notices that now there are only three.
"We're safe,' he reassures her,' as long as we have the torch we'll be fine. Sherlock and the doctor will get back and it'll all be fine." He is in full doctor mode now, he can't help it. Reassurance is the key in the current situation if they are all to survive, and not to go mad by the morning.
He hears Rory move but doesn't see him until the other man slips his arms around Amy's waist, moving his hands to cover hers where she holds them clenched against the window frame. Rory looks awkward about such a display of affection, as if he doesn't do it often, but Amy doesn't seem to mind. John spots the wedding bands on their fingers and has the sudden urge to keep them alive, no matter what the cost, because no young couple should have to worry about anything more than a mortgage.
They stay in front of the window a little longer, long enough to watch two more angels disappear after flashes of lightening and long enough to hear the laughter again. He wonders if Sherlock can hear it, and considers going to see if he can help with anything, but then discards the idea as the Doctor seemed to know what he was doing. Besides, he would probably just get in the way.
There is another clap of thunder, another bolt of lightning, and suddenly there are no more angels outside.
And then the room is thrown into darkness as the torch flickers.
"That can't be good,' John says, dashing over to the torch and grabbing it in one hand as it flickers again. He doesn't want to risk fiddling with the batteries, and is at a bit of a loss at what to do because the light is getting weaker and flickering more and more.
"Doctor!" Amy shouts at the top of her lungs while she stares worriedly at John, her fingers like a vice around Rory's hand.
The torch goes out for two whole seconds this time, flickering back on weakly. There is another flash of lightening and a rumbling clap of thunder, and in that instant it is as if John is living seven horror movies all at once.
"Sherlock !" John shouts, and his heart is starting to race, thumping against his ribs. There is another ungodly wail that makes both Rory and John jump in fright, and John notices that the doorknob is turning ever so slowly.
He has almost never been this scared in his life. Not in Afghanistan, not when Sarah was almost impaled with a crossbow by that Chinese smuggling syndicate, not when he had had enough explosives to set off a house strapped to his chest and set to blow at the press of a button. He had been scared all those times, but they are nothing compared to this. This is a fear that curls through his stomach, wraps around his heart and his lungs and proceeds to squeeze like there is no tomorrow. It is a fear he has only felt fleetingly, only twice; the first when he was a small child, unable to breathe as he choked at a family Christmas dinner, and the second that terrifying second when a little red sniper dot had appeared in the centre of Sherlock's forehead.
With one hand he points the dying torch at the door that is slowly, torturously opening, and with the other he reaches around and pulls out his gun. It is cool and reassuring in his hands, despite the fact that it probably won't help him look after himself much. Behind him, Amy and Rory are standing together, hand in hand. He feels so sorry for them.
With an unnaturally steady hand, John raises his gun to the door. The handle stops turning, the door swings forwards.
And the room goes dark.
End Chapter Four