(A/N) My dear Watson, this is for you of course. You know who you are my brilliant, fantastic, words cannot express how amazing you are best mate. Love you sweetie. XOXO Mels
Lexi's POV
We returned to Baker Street and as I waited for Sherlock to unlock the door I looked behind me and shivered slightly as I got the feeling that we were being watched once again. I looked up and down the street but saw nothing at all out of the ordinary. I shook my head before stepping into the flat after Sherlock. I closed the door and for good measure locked it behind me. I knew it was silly to be completely paranoid, but there was just something not right going on here. Sherlock thundered up the stairs and I followed after him at a slightly slower pace. We entered the living room of the flat and Sherlock became a flurry of activity after he took his coat and scarf off and flung them onto the couch haphazardly. I shook my head at him and took my own jacket and scarf off, hanging them up behind the door before I retrieved Sherlock's tossed aside coat and scarf and hung them up beside mine. The consulting detective was already on John's laptop, the password this week was sherlockbuggeroff, and the printer started up as he started printing everything Lestrade had sent over to us. I shook my head once more before I padded back through the flat to my room and grabbed my box of case materials. I brought it back out to the living room of the flat where Sherlock was pinning the pictures up on the wall behind the couch. I rolled my eyes fondly at him as he stood on the couch and stared at his handy work. Mrs. Hudson had come to stop complaining about us using her wall as a corkboard.
"Each of the victims were found at random places around the city," Sherlock told me as he stepped off of the couch and then up and over the coffee table before he started pacing the length of the room over our well-worn path in the carpet. I walked over to the couch and set my box down on the coffee table before I crossed my arms and stared at the pictures of the crime scenes and the same warning in the same black paint that was left behind.
"The first body was found in Croydon, but the second in Edgware," I remarked as I tilted my head to the side. "That's clear across the city from each other so our killer isn't targeting a specific area," I remarked as I looked at the pictures of the bodies. "All different people too, a business man," I said as I pointed to the picture of the third victim. "And a homeless woman," I finished as I pointed to the second victim.
"There's no pattern. The killings aren't random though. There is something that connects these five people," Sherlock remarked as he came to stand by me. He glared at the pictures before he walked around me and threw himself down on the couch after snatching up his nicotine patches from his hiding place underneath it. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt on his left arm and started slapping on patches until he got to three. He offered me to box but I shook my head. He shrugged slightly before he closed his eyes and pressed his hand over the patches to speed up the effects of the nicotine.
"Tea?" I asked Sherlock as I gave up trying with him and moved back towards the kitchen.
"Tea? How very British of you. Let's drink tea when there is an impossible case on," Sherlock Snapped and I leaned back into the livening room after flicking the kettle on and stared at Sherlock with narrowed eyes as I raised my eyebrows.
"Do you want the tea or not?" I asked Sherlock, slipping into my Irish brogue and the detective opened his eyes a bit to stare back at me. I fixed him with a pointed look and he sighed back at me and closed his eyes again.
"Yes," He answered me simply and I snorted before I popped back into the kitchen and got two tea mugs down from the cupboard and popped the tea bags into them. I danced around the kitchen as I made the tea, finding a packet of Jammie Dodgers and putting them out onto a plate before I brought that and our tea into the living room. I set Sherlock's tea down next to the plate of Jammie Dodgers and I nabbed one and bit into it as I crossed over to Sherlock's chair and tucked my feet under me. I sipped at my tea and grinned slightly before I turned back to the look at our wall.
"Third victim was found in Brixton, fourth in Brentwood, and the last in Lambeth. The only thing that connects the murders is that they were all killed by having their necks snapped and then the warning," I said, voicing my thoughts allowed before I got out my phone as an idea struck me. "What do you know of the Weeping Angels?" I texted Mycroft quickly. It was possible that it was something to do with the government if we had never heard about it. Either that or maybe they were a gang. I looked up at Sherlock who was in his prayer position, presumably in his Mind Palace. "Weeping Angels. Gang perhaps wanting to make a name for themselves? They leave the warning and the bodies to instil fear. It's easy enough if you know what you are doing to hack into a CCTV camera. Cut off the camera and you could go unseen. One minute isn't enough time to kill someone and write the warning though, most likely they used a time loop so it only looked like one minute later," I told Sherlock and he opened his eyes and sighed heavily.
"The warning was painted before the murder. The paint was slightly faded and chipped which means it's been there for a few days at least without anyone noticing it. Most likely they plan each of the murders down to the very second. They write the warning, they hack the cameras, and then they wait," Sherlock told me before he took in a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes looking slightly out of focus as he got high off of the nicotine. My phone alerted me to a text and I quickly turned it on and read the message.
"I presume that is supposed to mean something to me?" Mycroft had texted back and I frowned. If he didn't know anything than this really was a dead end for us.
"No, I guess not. Never mind," I texted Mycroft back quickly before I got up, and picked up John's laptop off of the dining table, setting my tea mug down on the corner. I sat back down in Sherlock's chair and opened up the web browser. Weeping Angels, someone had to know something about them and when someone did, they most likely put it on the internet. I pulled up a quick search and I found a few websites selling t-shirts that said "The Angels Have The Phone Box" as the first options on the page. I shook my head and continued scrolling until I found a website that looked promising. I clicked into it and the first thing I saw was a picture of an angel statue that looked exactly like the one I had seen on the building only this one was standing with three other statues in a circle, all of them with their arms raised. I scrolled down and started reading, my eyes moving quickly over the page.
Have You Seen A Weeping Angel?
They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and whatever you do, don't blink. If you've seen an angel you are in more danger than you could ever guess. Contact Sally Sparrow.
The only other thing on the page was a phone number, presumably for this Sally Sparrow person. I looked up at Sherlock and stared at him for a long moment before I finally spoke. "Sherlock, I think I found something," I told the consulting detective who immediately snapped his eyes open. He looked over at me and I ushered him over and he got up and walked up and over the coffee table to me and I handed him the laptop. He scanned over the page as I got up and stood beside him, looking over his shoulder. "I've seen one of those statues. When we were at the crime scene. It was up on the building but when I looked back when we left it was gone. I know it sounds mental, but it looked exactly like those," I told Sherlock as I pointed to the picture.
Sherlock handed me back the laptop and pulled out his mobile before looking down at me. "Well let's give Sally Sparrow a call then," He said as he rang her and put the phone on speaker.
"Hello?" A voice answered as someone picked up the phone. Judging by the voice Sally was a young woman. Her accent was from London. I looked up at Sherlock and saw that he wanted me to do the talking.
"Hello. Are you Sally Sparrow?" I asked, biting my lip nervously until I caught Sherlock's gaze and his frown over the gesture. I sighed and stopped biting my lip.
"Ah yes, I am," The girl, Sally, answered me.
"Excellent," Sherlock remarked and I grinned at him slightly.
"Can I ask why are you calling? And maybe who you are since you know me?" Sally asked us and I nodded slightly even though she couldn't see us.
"We're calling because we've seen your website about the Weeping Angels. We're Consulting Detectives for Scotland Yard," I told Sally before deciding to offer up my name. "I'm Alexandria Mackenna," I said before looking up at Sherlock.
"Sherlock Holmes," He offered and I heard Sally laugh in the back ground.
"You're those detectives from the blog!" Sally said excitedly and I shook my head and sighed as Sherlock glared at the phone. John's blog had taken off recently after he started posting more about our cases.
"Yeah, that's us," I told Sally with a slight laugh before getting more serious. "What can you tell us of the Weeping Angels?" I asked her the same question I had Mycroft.
"Have you seen one?" Sally asked us quickly and I looked up at Sherlock who was just staring at me.
"I have," I told her and I heard her gasp slightly. Sherlock sighed in irritation and I could see that he was no longer convinced that this line of inquiry was going to get us anywhere. "It looked like the ones in the picture on your website," I told Sally, taking the phone from Sherlock and crossing over to the couch. I sat down as Sherlock stood there watching me.
"Oh my God," Sally breathed and I frowned slightly. "Alright. Listen to me very carefully. The Weeping Angels are statues, but only when you see them. There's a man called the Doctor. If you've seen an angel you have to find him. He said as long as you look at the angel it turns into stone, but then you turn your back on them, or look away, or blink and then they come alive. They cover their eyes, but they aren't weeping. They can't look at each other. They're fast, faster than you could ever believe. I wish I could help you more, but the only one who could stop them is the Doctor and I don't know how to find him," Sally told us and I frowned. I had heard that name before, the Doctor. I couldn't remember where but I knew I had seen the name written on something before.
"Thank you Sally. You've been a big help," I told the girl as I looked up at Sherlock who had one eyebrow raised and was staring at me.
"Listen -your lives could depend on this- don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. Don't turn your backs, don't look away, and don't blink," Sally warned me before pausing. "Good luck," She added before she hung up. Sherlock and I stared back at each other in silence before Sherlock let out a loud breath.
"Well that was tedious. No help there. Obviously she is delusional," Sherlock said as he walked forward and took his phone back from me.
"Maybe, but Sherlock, she sounded serious as if she was really worried about this," I told Sherlock and he fixed me with a skeptical glare.
"Statues don't move and they certainly can't kill you. Do you even believe this?" Sherlock asked me and I stared back at him for a long moment before shrugging.
"I don't know. What I do know logically is I saw an angel statue that looks like those one minute and when I looked back it was gone. I haven't taken drugs, I'm not drunk, and I haven't suffered any recent head trauma. Therefore the only conclusion I can make is the statue did move," I told Sherlock who shook his head at me. "Look I know it sounds mental, but what if it's right? Beware the Weeping Angels. It's the only warning we have. You said it yourself the message was written a few days before the murder at least. What if someone was trying to warn people and then they ended up dead? Five people nothing connects them at all except for the message. Maybe they knew something they shouldn't have?" I asked Sherlock as he stared back at me as if I had grown a second head.
"More than likely this is a serial killer trying to mess with people's minds. It is highly likely that you have been drugged," Sherlock told me and I crossed my arms in front of my chest and raised my eyebrow at him. "Last night we ate at Angelo's, we ordered the same thing, no signs of any hallucinations until this morning so it didn't come from there. What have you eaten since this morning?" Sherlock asked me and I sighed and shook my head at him.
"I've had nothing but tea. You and John both had tea from the same box of tea bags as me and we both take ours with sugar which I just bought," I told Sherlock in exasperation and he nodded.
"Then we'll test the tea and sugar to find out which drug was used," Sherlock told me as he made his way back towards the kitchen and started pulling out beakers and test tubes and his microscope.
"Sherlock I wasn't drugged. That's what I am trying to tell you," I told the consulting detective as he moved around the kitchen, taking several tea bags with him from the jar we stored them in. I groaned as he stopped and looked back at me.
"That's the drug talk, hush," He told me and I threw my hands in the air in exasperation.
"There's no drugs!" I shouted at Sherlock louder than I intended just as the doorbell rang down stairs. "Seriously Sherlock no drugs. I honestly think I would know if I had been drugged," I told the consulting detective as we heard Mrs. Hudson answer the door downstairs. We heard a man's voice as he spoke animatedly to Mrs. Hudson before the woman called up the stairs to us.
"Sherlock! Lexi!" She called before we heard footsteps on the stairs. There were four sets of foot falls and I looked up at Sherlock in confusion as he walked out of the kitchen and joined me in the living room. "Dears, there's someone here for you I think," Mrs. Hudson said as she walked into the living room followed by a man with floppy hair wearing a tweed jacket and a bowtie, a red haired woman wearing a dark miniskirt, a red shirt, and a brown leather jacket, and a sandy blond haired man wearing a black and white plaid shirt, a black vest, and jeans. I could tell that the blond man and the redhead were married given by how close they were standing together and the fact that they both wore wedding rings. The man in the bowtie was grinning at Sherlock and me as we stared back at the trio. I raised an eyebrow at the man as he stepped forward into our living room and extended his hand to us.
"Hello, I'm the Doctor."