Sherlock's jaw dropped a bit when he saw a scroll, browned with age on the sides, made out of pound papyrus. It must be over 2000 years old, he thought to himself.

And the writing on it, it was Assyrian, he was sure of it, even if he had no idea what it said, he recognized it from the stone in the museum. He stood behind John, one hand on his good shoulder to not only affirm that he was there and he was close, but honestly to hold himself up a bit, this was so intensely fascinating to him.

"what does it say?" He asked in a whisper.