On The Side of The Angels

Meet the Angels

Sherlock sat on his chair peacefully while John paced round the whole room. “So you mean to say that this, Doctor fellow of yours, you knew since you were a kid?”

Sherlock gave a sigh of resignation, “Yes John.”

“Okay, okay.”

There was a sudden sound of swooshing in the apartment. John gave an unprecedented yelp and stumbled backwards, as a blue police phone box materialized in their apartment. He drew out his revolver, and Sherlock shouted, ‘No John, no!”

John kept the revolver back into his pocket as the doors of the TARDIS opened and in barely seconds, the Doctor jumped out, bursting with energy, “Sherlock, where are you?”

Sherlock was rather unfazed by all these developments and said in a contended voice, ‘Ah, Doctor! I am here, please” he indicated to the sofa, “make yourself at home!”

The Doctor happily sauntered to the sofa, while Donna, from whose face John could not take his eyes off, walked rather mechanically towards the sofa, and forced a smile in Sherlock’s direction. She muttered into John’s ear.

“You his friend, mate?”

“Um, actually, yes.”

She patted him on the shoulder and sat right next to the Doctor.

Sherlock indicated at the kettle on the table, “Tea?”

‘Oh yes! No-” he said catching hold of Sherlock’s hand, smiling jovially, “I will pour the tea.”

Sherlock too tried to return the smile, but his face had turned to stone, so it looked like his mouth had been horribly disfigured. The Doctor poured out tea for all four of them. Then sipping his tea lightly, he asked the Doctor, “So?” he leaned back on his chair, his face relaxed and manner absolutely friendly, “You called for help?”

“Yes, indeed I did. I will tell you something that I think might be alien, so don’t laugh at me if I am wrong, since clearly this is your area, am I right?”

“Oh and I think you must know, we just met Agatha Christie.” Said Donna huffily.

Sherlock glanced at her, then continued, “So about my case.” He leaned forward and joined the tips of his fingers. “One day, one of my colleagues who owns The Ritz Hotel, a posh hotel down south called me. He said that a man, called Shaun Drewmore had disappeared the day before and he wanted me to investigate. I went over to the hotel but could not get a crime scene, because loads of people were there.”

“Where?” said the Doctor setting the teacup down on the table, not taking his eyes of the consulting detective.

“The spot where he disappeared. He wanted to keep it all under the covers, and he could not get all the people to get out of the garden without rousing suspicion. He is one proud fellow.”

“Humans.” Sighed the Doctor

“Whatever. So I glanced at the garden from the outside, and there was nothing remotely dangerous there, only a few statues here and there.”

The Doctor’s ears perked up as he whispered “Statues you say?”

“Yes, I am coming to them. So after a few days, that family created a ruckus and finally the news spread, an unexplainable disappearance. The media was all over. It turns out that Shaun was not the first one to disappear. There were loads before him, and all was hidden rather well by my colleague.”

The Doctor sat there listening to Sherlock with rapt attention. John’s eyes were glued onto the Doctor and Donna stared at the room when all of a sudden she pointed at the skull on the mantelpiece, “And what the hell is that doing there.”