So this is a Wholock fanfic, the first I've ever written. I originally wrote a shorter version of this in ask form (13 parts) for johnlocked-in-the-spooky-tardis. I liked writing it so much and thought it was good enough that I would extend it a bit and post it here in one post. I hope you all enjoy!

Characters: John, Sherlock, River, the Doctor, Amy, and Rory.

Rated: BOA for Beware of Angels

Summary: John and Sherlock return to Baker Street in a heated argument about something John saw at the scene of a disappearance. Stubborn Sherlock refuses to believe something beyond his expertise is going on, and a certain friend of the Doctor's comes along to offer the pair some help.

Takes place between Hounds of Baskerville and Reichenbach Fall in the Sherlock timeline and as for the Doctor Who timeline, it doesn't really matter although I suppose it'd be some time after The Wedding of River Song.

Depending on the response I get from this, I may or may not write more. I have more in my head to write if you guys want it, but only if I get a good enough response. So leave a review if you like it!

Enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes rolled his eyes as he marched into the flat. "I swear I saw it move, Sherlock," John Watson insisted as he followed the detective inside. "It went from standing on that pillar beside the door of the church to the bottom of the steps. I know it did."

"Impossible," Sherlock said, waving away the notion immediately. You're probably just still suffering the side-effects of your hangover from the trip to the pub with your friend last night."

"I'm not hung over! I know what I saw!" John cried defensively.

"Oh, so I suppose the statue just crossed the street, broke into the house, and kidnapped him?" the detective answered sarcastically.

When he put it that way, John knew it sounded odd, but he was sure of it. "Yes, I suppose I am." Sherlock scoffed and moved to sit in his usual chair. "Just because it sounds ridiculous doesn't mean it can't have happened. You once said that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," John shot back.

"Yes, but the statue of an angel, John?" Sherlock made another derisive noise.

"And what else could it be?" John asked, but never got his answer from the doubtful detective, for at that moment the doorbell downstairs rang. "Boys, you've-" Mrs. Hudson began to call as usual, but the guest at the door cut her off. "Sorry, 'scuse me, no time to waste," a woman's voice said before they heard the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs.

John looked to Sherlock, who merely shrugged. A moment later, a confident, smirking blonde-haired woman entered the flat. "Hello, dears. Word has it that you've got a rather curious, unsolved case on your hands."

John looked from the woman to Sherlock, who looked a tad perturbed. "Not unsolved but rather currently in progress. I don't have unsolved cases," Sherlock answered, to which John objectively cut in. "That's not true, there was the one with the airplane passenger-" he started to say, but Sherlock's glare shut him up immediately.

"So, want some help?" the curly-haired blonde asked.

"Perhaps we could-" John began, but Sherlock once again cut him off. "No, I have no need of your assistance. John and I have this perfectly under control and are well on our way to solving it, actually."

"No we're not-"

"John," Sherlock said warningly.

"Er, sorry. What's your name, by the way? I don't believe you mentioned it," John said, curious as to who this woman was.

"Oh, my apologies. River Song, archaeologist," River said, holding out a hand for John to shake. Just as their hands met, however, the sound of Sherlock's chuckle caused them to pause and turn to look at him.

"What's so funny?" John asked.

"He thinks archaeology is a useless branch of science and is wondering how on earth an archaeologist is going to assist in a kidnapping case, that's what he thinks is funny," River answered, to which Sherlock raised an intrigued eyebrow and John looked both fascinated and shocked. "Thing is, though, it's not a kidnapping. It's not that simple, I'm afraid," she told Sherlock.

"Oh?" the detective questioned, prompting River to continue if only to humor her. She probably wouldn't go away if he didn't allow her to go on.

"No, it's not," River said, sounding a tad annoyed that he didn't seem to be taking this whole thing seriously. He was more difficult to deal with already than the Doctor. "That angel John saw-"

"How did you-How do you know our-"

"How did I know you saw the angel? How do I know your names?" River finished for him. "I've been in London for a bit and learned about the case. Knowing something wasn't right, I went to investigate, just like you," she explained, looking pointedly at Sherlock. "I spotted you two and followed you back from the scene of the crime." Sherlock looked a bit impressed, just as he always did when he met another quick-thinking, resourceful mind, while John still had a surprised expression plastered across his features. "Anyways, that angel statue John saw was called a Weeping Angel and is quite dangerous."

"Dangerous?" John repeated, looking confused and a tad scared.

"How can a stone angel be dangerous?" Sherlock asked skeptically.

"The Weeping Angels are the oldest creatures on the planet. When you look at them, they can't move. But once you turn your head or even blink..."

"Do they...kill people?" John asked hesitantly.

"No, much worse," River answered. "They send you back in time and let you live to death."

"My God…" John murmured, eyes wide.

"Not possible," Sherlock refuted instantly, and John and River snapped their heads to look at him once more.

"Yes it is. It absolutely is possible, I've seen it," River answered, sounding even more perturbed by Sherlock's skepticism. Really, what would it take to convince this stubborn detective?

"So I really did see it move," John asked in an attempt to avert the argument that was about to unfold between the two.

"Yes, you did. I noticed it changed position, too," River replied.

"I think we should let her help us out, Sherlock. She seems to know what she's doing," John insisted once more, trying to get Sherlock to see reason.

"Absolutely not."

"Don't tell me you still don't believe either of us!" John exclaimed tiredly, to which Sherlock simply stared back at him. John rolled his eyes and sighed. "You're ridiculous."

"Indeed he is. I suppose if you don't believe what we tell you, then we'll just have to prove it to you; let you see for yourself," River insisted.

"We will?" John asked.

"Yes. Come on, then," she said, grabbing Sherlock's wrist and yanking him to his feet. Twenty minutes later they found themselves back at the crime scene.

Immediately John and River focused their attention to the church on the other side of the street where the angel had been earlier. "Where is it?" John asked. "It's moved," River answered as she began to look around. "There," John pointed toward the back of the missing man's house. "Good," River said approvingly. "Now take your eyes off it."

"What?" the army doctor cried incredulously, giving her an 'are you serious?' look. "But you said that they're-"

"Extremely dangerous. Yes, I know. Just do it, just for the briefest of moments. You, too, deduction boy." Sherlock scowled at the nickname but nonetheless looked away. Finally, River allowed herself to blink and when her eyes opened, the angel had moved three feet closer.

"Impossible," Sherlock breathed. "How is that possible?"

"There's a lot more in this world, Mr. Holmes, than can be dreamt of in your philosophy."

"I see you're a fan of Shakespeare," Sherlock casually noted.

"I see you're still skeptical."

"Of course I am. There's got to be a logical explanation," the detective insisted, walking toward the angel to inspect it. This was just like the Baskerville case. It seemed like something supernatural was happening, but as always there had to be a more logical conclusion. There always was.

"Sherlock, maybe you shouldn't—"

"Nonsense, John," he replied dismissively, pulling out a magnifying glass and beginning to examine the outstretched hands of the angel. And then a strange, distant wheezing sound caught all their attention.

River grinned, "Well it's about time," she said, turning to face the materializing Tardis.

"About time for what? What's that noise?" John asked, following River's gaze to the blue box that was beginning to appear out of thin air.

"Whoever's phone that is, could you turn it off? I'm trying to work," Sherlock demanded irritably, turning to glare at them both. He only got a glimpse of the blue police box and only a moment to appear astonished, however, before he vanished.

"River!" the Doctor cried happily as he stepped out of the Tardis to greet her, followed along by Amy and Rory as usual.

"Hello, sweetie! I'm so pleased you could make it," she said, flashing him a wide grin.

"Who's this?" the Doctor asked, looking from River to John. "Oh, this is John Watson."

"John Watson. The John Watson?" the Doctor exclaimed excitedly. He looked to River, smiling broadly like a young boy who had just met his idol and jabbed a thumb over in the army doctor's direction. "The John Watson, how exciting!" he whispered.

"You've heard of me?" John asked, looking surprised. Sure, he had a blog and tons of people read it and told him that they loved it but normally the one to receive this sort of reaction was Sherlock, not him.

"Of course I have! Bright minds like yours and Sherlock's—of course I've heard of you! Love the blog, by the way," the Doctor said, flashing a childishly delighted smile. "The Aluminum Crutch was one of my favorites!"

"Doctor, River," Amy called, interrupting the introductions and the Doctor's praising. "What's an angel doing there?"

"What? River, you never mentioned angels," the Doctor said as he turned to follow the Ponds' gaze.

"I'm sorry, dear, I didn't know angels were involved until I came here and saw this pair snooping around. All I knew was that something strange was going on," River explained. "Speaking of Sherlock and John…"

"Where'd Sherlock go?" John asked, posing the very question River had begun to wonder. Turning back to where Sherlock and the angel had been, John's worried frown deepened as he spotted the angel but no detective.

"Oh no," River said, voice full of dread. "I'm so sorry, John."

"What do you mean?" the doctor asked fearfully, although he was already sure of what she was going to say and it wasn't anything good.

"I'm sorry, John, but Sherlock's gone."