Sherlock made his way down the old mine tunnel. The light was, naturally, terrible.
Taking out his phone, he repeatedly pressed the home button to use as a pathetic torch, but it did the job. It was enough to see the walls…
He hadn’t travelled 20 metres with the metallic tang attacking his nostrils until the dispersed beam fell onto a flagstone unlike the rest of the tunnel floor, covered in a thin film of congealed blood.
This… to be perfectly honest, was expected. 
What wasn’t was the sudden malfunction of his phone. The blood covered slab fell into the darkness again as Sherlock stared at the screen of the gadget as it buzz and flashed in his face. All the font and text had merged and multiple menus were popping up over the screen. Frowning, he banged it against his hand, hoping that it may realign some loose circuitry, but it continued to have a technological tantrum.
He decided to try an use the epilepsy inducing lightsource and carry on… after all… it was better than nothing.
Sherlock looked down the tunnel intently and picked out a soft pinpoint of light on the right hand wall. As he walked, his footsteps changed from those hitting dry limestone, to those that were clinging to the floor with each step, squelching as he walked. Ignoring it as best he could, he came to the opening to the surface.
But… This wasn’t part of the mine’s design… surely.
What he was seeing caused a strange reaction to explode in his well honed mind. In the rock, all the way to the outside, someone - or something - carved out a long, entrenched circle with an x through it… like the symbol back at the Trelawney house. He put his hand up to the hole in the wall and came into contact with more blood, though this time, much fresher.
This was not good. His palms began to sweat beneath his leather gloves and the hairs on the back of his neck were on end.
Then… his phone went completely berserk. More than before.
It had seemed to have received every single text message ever sent in one go, but with each one a different tone and buzz. He could feel the phone begin to overheat, even through the thick material of his gloves. Forcing himself to look at the screen, one message managed to present itself.
H̻͚̣̙̘͈͚ͩ̏e̠̹̣̙̤͇͓͑̄ͪ̂̍͛͒͊ ̘̲͙̎̏ͧ̑s͎̪͈̥͙̾̅̃̓́͆͛ê͕̠̞̹̤̝̠͛̂͒ͦͦe͉̹͓̞̯̘ͥͨs͙̦͈̘̩̔̀̈́́̉ ̦͙͉̬͚͚̳̑̍ͥ͐̿͒ͤy̺̦͚͎͚̘͚͕͂̏ͣͅo̘͌͒̒ͯ̎́u͈̣͚̹̜̳̞̠̅ͫ

Sherlock made his way down the old mine tunnel. The light was, naturally, terrible.

Taking out his phone, he repeatedly pressed the home button to use as a pathetic torch, but it did the job. It was enough to see the walls…

He hadn’t travelled 20 metres with the metallic tang attacking his nostrils until the dispersed beam fell onto a flagstone unlike the rest of the tunnel floor, covered in a thin film of congealed blood.

This… to be perfectly honest, was expected. 

What wasn’t was the sudden malfunction of his phone. The blood covered slab fell into the darkness again as Sherlock stared at the screen of the gadget as it buzz and flashed in his face. All the font and text had merged and multiple menus were popping up over the screen. Frowning, he banged it against his hand, hoping that it may realign some loose circuitry, but it continued to have a technological tantrum.

He decided to try an use the epilepsy inducing lightsource and carry on… after all… it was better than nothing.

Sherlock looked down the tunnel intently and picked out a soft pinpoint of light on the right hand wall. As he walked, his footsteps changed from those hitting dry limestone, to those that were clinging to the floor with each step, squelching as he walked. Ignoring it as best he could, he came to the opening to the surface.

But… This wasn’t part of the mine’s design… surely.

What he was seeing caused a strange reaction to explode in his well honed mind. In the rock, all the way to the outside, someone - or something - carved out a long, entrenched circle with an x through it… like the symbol back at the Trelawney house. He put his hand up to the hole in the wall and came into contact with more blood, though this time, much fresher.

This was not good. His palms began to sweat beneath his leather gloves and the hairs on the back of his neck were on end.

Then… his phone went completely berserk. More than before.

It had seemed to have received every single text message ever sent in one go, but with each one a different tone and buzz. He could feel the phone begin to overheat, even through the thick material of his gloves. Forcing himself to look at the screen, one message managed to present itself.

H̻͚̣̙̘͈͚ͩ̏e̠̹̣̙̤͇͓͑̄ͪ̂̍͛͒͊ ̘̲͙̎̏ͧ̑s͎̪͈̥͙̾̅̃̓́͆͛ê͕̠̞̹̤̝̠͛̂͒ͦͦe͉̹͓̞̯̘ͥͨs͙̦͈̘̩̔̀̈́́̉ ̦͙͉̬͚͚̳̑̍ͥ͐̿͒ͤy̺̦͚͎͚̘͚͕͂̏ͣͅo̘͌͒̒ͯ̎́u͈̣͚̹̜̳̞̠̅ͫ

✿THEME