The Artist and the Doctor

Chapter 12

A/N: Sorry this chapter is a little short, but I'll be adding the next one in a day or two. Feel free to comment and vote. They make me happy! Hope you all enjoy! :)

Sherlock led the three of us to a small run down apartment that was located in the same alleyway where the TARDIS was parked. On the living room wall was a display of evidence for the case Sherlock wanted us to help him crack. The evidence ranged from newspaper clippings, printed out news articles from websites, pictures of the victims and pictures of stone statues. I stepped closer to the wall, intrigued by a photo of a stone angel statue covering its face with its hands. I couldn't tell if it was crying or hiding.

"The weeping angels." The Doctor spoke suddenly causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. "One of the most dangerous creatures in the universe and yet the only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely."

I gulped. "Um... kill nicely?" I asked my voice wavering slightly.

"If touched by an angel, they'll simply send you off into the past and feed off of the potential energy from the years you might've lived."

"Fascinating." Sherlock muttered under his breath. "What else is there?"

The Doctor shot him a look before continuing. "When seen, an angel is stone, the second you take your eyes off them, they'll move. And they are fast, faster than you'll ever believe. Whatever you do, do not blink. Blink and you're dead."

A cold chill ran down my spine causing me to shiver slightly. I quickly shook it off and examined the photos of the victims. They were all young; probably in their early twenties. All seven of them were female with similar appearances, long curly dark brown hair with brown eyes. A small tug of anxiety started poking at me indicating that something was wrong.

"The victims were all randomly selected across the world." Sherlock started. "Bella Porcello; found in Sardinia, Italy. She went missing after going on a walk. She was found completely aged and her neck snapped. The only evidence of the angel was a sketch of it in a notebook she was holding." He said pointing to one of the pictures.

"The second was found in Seymour, Connecticut in the United States. Her name was Sarah Baker, her body was found in a graveyard near a stone statue of an angel weeping. She was also completely aged and her neck was snapped. There was also traces of charcoal on her hands indicating that she was an artist as well." Sherlock continued to point out the various victims. All brunettes. All in their early twenties. All artists. My blood ran cold and my palms turned clammy; anxiety was beginning to take its tool on me. I took in a deep breath trying to calm myself hoping that it was all just a coincidence, but I knew deep down that it wasn't. These weeping angels were looking for me.

The Doctor and Sherlock both glanced at me. Sherlock's cool and calculating; the Doctor's unreadable. I turned to face the pair.

"They're looking for me aren't they?" I asked shakily.

There was an uncomfortable silence before Sherlock decided to break it.

"Yes." He stated bluntly.

"Sherlock really?" The Doctor scolded. He rushed over to me and wrapped me up in his arms. "No, Claire they're not looking for you. Well...yes... yes they are... I lied... but I will find out why and I will stop them." The Doctor ranted while trying to comfort me. He rubbed small circles into my back frantically before pulling away. He cupped my face in his hands and looked deeply into my eyes. "I will not let them hurt you." He whispered before kissing my forehead. My heart fluttered slightly taking me completely off guard.