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"Oh, you wouldn’t want that house," the estate agent said, thumbs hovering over her phone.
"Why not?" John asked, looking up the street the same way Sherlock was staring fixedly. A large, sprawling structure, it lay claim to a large lot. Woods bordered it at the back, and right at the edge, a little well could be seen. The whole property was in a glorious state of disrepair, vines and snarls of ivy obscuring the windows. "It looks perfectly lovely," John commented dryly.
"It’s been standing empty for ages - no one wants to buy it because no one wants to live in a house where a whole family was murdered.Dreadful story. Complete mystery, but there you have it. At this point we’re just waiting for the HOA clause to be amended, and it’ll be sold for - Mr. Holmes where are you going? Mr. Watson, what is he doing?”
"It’s Dr. Watson, actually - and you, ah, might want to take the rest of the day off." John grinned, his eyes tracking the movement of one long-legged detective as he stalked his way to the house in question. "This could take a while."