This is just an extremely short one-shot.
I wish I could've made this a bit longer but I unfortunately couldn't think of much else to write.
Anyhow, I do hope you enjoy what has been produced.
Sherlock stared up at the gigantic, jet black hound. It's bright red eyes glowing and pulsing in the darkness.
It's deep growls and throaty snarls were heard over it's loud paw-steps as the dog continued to advance towards the four men.
"My God!"
Sherlock ignored Inspector Lestrade's exclamation and instead turned to Henry.
"Henry,"
The detective called.
"It is just a dog. It's nothing more than an ordinary dog!"
The innocent and frightened Henry whimpered, falling to the ground. His round eyes were wide with shock as he sat on the forest floor paralysed, not keeping his horror-stricken gaze away from the beast that padded forward.
The sound of muffled, heavy breathing caused Sherlock to turn, suddenly aware of the shadowy figure of a man looming in the dense fog that surrounded Dewers Hollow.
A shout was heard from John but Sherlock blocked his friend's call out as he ran over to the figure and tore off the gas mask that was on it's face.
To Sherlock's absolute horror, the pale face of Jim Moriarty stared back at him, a sickly wide grin on his face.
Sherlock backed away in astonishment, stumbling backwards as Jim began growling and making snarl-like sounds, thrashing his head around so violently that it soon became blurred.
The detective blinked and tried to clear his mind.
Baskerville…..Doctor Stapleton...Doctor Frankland….the computer files….H.O.U.N.D…
Thoughts rushed through Sherlock's mind as he tried to process information.
That man in the gas mask wasn't Moriarty, it simply couldn't be!
Wait….why did the figure have to wear a gas mask? There were no chemicals….unless…
Sherlock opened his eyes and took a brief look around his surroundings.
Of course! The fog was enhanced with the drug from the files in Major Barrymore's office!
After figuring everything out, Sherlock shook his head to regain a normal state due to his brief mind-palace visit.
The male's icy blue eyes narrowed as the face of Frankland stared back at him.
Sherlock's lip curled in slight displeasure. Even though it would've been an impossible feat, the detective was silently wishing that it had been Jim Moriarty in that mask.
If it had been the consulting criminal, then this affair would've been a jolly good show.
