Title: The Hounds Of Baskerville- A Different Take (Part 2 Of A Different Take Universe)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that are part of the BBCverse of Sherlock.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Original Male&Female Characters
Genre: Mystery, Suspense, Drama, Angst, General, Friendship
Warnings: Death, Language, Violence
Spoilers: The Hounds of Baskerville is the title of the second episode (or episode 5) of Season 2.
Summary: It's November. Sherlock has hit a wall in his research on Moriarty. John has had enough. He needs a holiday. They bloody both do. Over-riding Sherlock's objections, John arranges for a holiday at a country getaway called The Baskerville Hall, (an open ended offer that Sherlock had received from a case ages ago) in the Dartmoor area of Devon.
Unfortunately, John finds out that even having a holiday with Sherlock Holmes doesn't go the way it should.
Authors Note: Okay, did a bit of reading up about the original source, The Hound Of The Baskervilles first to get a good idea of what it was about. So, anyway, I know Moffatt and Gatiss are going to do their own twist to it. Here is my own fanon interpretation/twist. Hope you enjoy.
Prologue
Location: Dartmoor, Devon
Date: November, 1889
Time: Unknown. Night
The woman races through the woods, running as fast as she can. She ignores the branches scratching her, pausing only to untangle her long dark hair from the branches.
She just wants to get as far away as possible.
To get away from the howls that she hears.
Those same howls she heard when she found her husband's lifeless body on the ground in the stables.
Please Lord, please protect me, she silently sends a prayer as she runs. She runs until she can run no more, collapsing against a tree.
Struggling to breath, she can feel her heart pounding wildly. It sounds so loud in her ears.
Protect me, Lord, she sends another prayer to her Creator. I will never say your name in vain again.
A sob threatens to emerge from her, and she shoves her fist in her mouth to keep it from emerging. She can still hear those horrible howls.
Commanded by a voice only heard in shadows.
Crack.
Fear runs through her, and she takes off like a rabbit being hunted. The howls are getting closer, the voice heard once. She runs, until the howls become distant.
She finds a large tree with low branches. Desperation makes her climb, ripping her nightgown and her dressing gown. She doesn't care.
She struggles up the branches, going high enough until she feels safe to stay where she is.
Minutes pass.
She hugs the large branch, hearing the sniffs, the howls, that voice...
It was the voice of the Devil.
Only the Devil could do what had been down to her husband. Those howls belonged to the his Hounds.
Silence comes later. She doesn't know how long she has been up here. But enough time passes.
It's safe.
It's a bit of a struggle climbing down, and eventually there is a slip on the last branch. It is not a long fall, just a couple of feet.
A sharp pain in her backside is worth escaping certain death.
She needs to get back home.
She places a hand on the trunk and gets to her feet. As she straightens, the worst sound is heard.
A soft growl.
A chuckle.
Dread fills her. She has no escape. The young woman closes her eyes, sends another prayer to her Lord. Please forgive me for my sins. She turns, and meets her fate.
Location: Dartmoor, Devon
Date: November, 1909
Time: Unknown. Late. Dark.
He's running.
He's running through the forest, leaving the sight of his wife's mangled body behind him, trying to outrun the howls.
Coming here was a mistake. He never should have snooped.
His wife paid the price.
And now so will he, not if he doesn't get out danger.
A branch tears the sleeve of his coat, another cuts his cheek. He stops to rip off the coat and then continues running.
Fear is what is keeping him going. He doesn't want to die.. not like how his wife died. Not like this.
God, if you can hear me, help me.
He runs until he is out of breath, until he feels like he cannot run anymore. The howls are distant now. They start to fade.
He slumps against a large tree. His mind races through the events of what just took place.
He never believed in the Devil.
Until now.
He heard the Devil's voice commanding the beasts with the howls. The Devil's Hounds.
His body stills as he hears another howl. This is not faint. This one is not distant.
They are close.
Run.
He runs.
Unfortunately he soon trips over a fallen tree. His knees and palms, badly bruised and cut.
He struggles to get up... then he hears a growl.
And then he feels the breath of another, the growl soft, but almost booming in his ear.
Then he hears the Devil's voice.
He accepts his fate.
Location: Dartmoor, Devon
Date: November, 1929
Time: Unknown. Late. Dark.
"Come on!"
"Can you hear that?"
"That's why I'm telling you to run!"
The man and woman hear that chilling howl once more, and they no longer stall. They grab the others hand and they run towards the forest.
They run when they go into the trees, racing for their lives.
They both know if those howls catch up to them, that their lives are no more.
They came here for a story.
Now they may end up being part of it.
They run as fast as they can, pushing through branches, and tripping over upturned roots, trying to put distance between them and those hellish howls.
They run until they can run no more.
They slide down to the ground, holding each other up. He thinks they are properly hidden.
"That voice..." She moans.
"I know," he pants.
That voice...
He never believed in the Devil.
Until he heard the voice.
Now, the Devil is after them, with his Hounds leading the way.
"Are you all right?" He asks.
"Fine."
They stay like this, their backs against the other for a long time. He doesn't know how long.
But after a time he doesn't hear any howling.
"I don't hear anything."
"Shall we go then?"
He nods, and gets to his feet, grabbing his companion's hand.
"Next time, remind me not to snoop," he says with a smile, relief making him happy.
"I told you one day your snooping would get you killed."
"I know," he takes her hand and they start walking. Both of them convinced they are safe now.
But that feeling doesn't last long, as they hear a growl behind them.
Then another.
Both of them too close.
They both know they have no chance to run.
His eyes meet hers, and he pulls her tightly against him. He shuts his eyes tightly, as he hears that voice one more time.
They accept their fates.
Location: Dartmoor, Devon
Date: November, 1949
Time: Unknown. Late. Dark.
She falls down, using her hands to help her scramble backwards.
She can't see them. It's dark.
But she can hear them.
She hears her husband scream, hears the growls and snarls, the voice of the Devil laughing.
Then her husbands screams are no more. She knows deep down he is dead.
She bumps against a fallen tree, and hugs it. Her only hope is that they don't come searching for her.
She never should have pried.
She should never convinced her husband to ask those questions.
Now he is dead, and she's hiding.
She can't run. She has no energy.
She cringes as she hears the howling start again, and covers her ears.
Those unearthly howls... they are the things of nightmares.
They are a nightmare.
Please God, please, please protect me.
The howls are closer.
She prays that they give up, that they can't find her.
She prays for God to intervene.
The howls stop, but she hears the growling. She feels their breath.
She looks up.
The Devil has won.
She accepts her fate.
Location: Dartmoor, Devon
Date: November, 1969
Time: Unknown. Late. Dark.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Whoever said that obviously knew what they were talking about.
The man can't see the beasts, he can't see the man behind the voice, but he knows they are there. Circling him.
His back is against the large tree, the tree that the first victim was found eighty years ago, where the second victim was also found sixty years ago.
He didn't know about the deaths until he joined this family.
Then he found the old newspaper clippings. The whispered stories of a curse.
His curiosity got the best of him.
"I'm sorry," he calls out, desperately, trying to spare his own life. "I'm sorry. Please, I promise, I won't tell anyone."
No answer.
Except for the howls and growls.
Stupid. He thought he could solve it.
Apparently he wasn't the only one that tried to.
They are all dead now.
Now he knows why.
"I promise. I promise to forget, to stop looking. Please."
He hears a low laugh then, and a chill goes down his spine.
The voice of the Devil.
The Devil's Hounds are almost to him. Tightening the circle.
His apology is meaningless. His fate is sealed.
He doesn't accept it.
"No! Please, no! No!"
It's the last word he screams before his fate comes to him.
Location: Dartmoor, Devon
Date: November, 1989
Time: Unknown. Late. Dark.
All she can do is to run.
Her car died on her before she could even start to drive it away.
She should have listened to the warnings about being part of this family.
She should have taken the curse seriously.
She hadn't.
Now the Devil's Hounds were chasing her. Chasing her through the forest where all the earlier victims had been found.
She ran because that was the only option.
But she knows, deep down, that her fate is to join the others.
Accepting it doesn't help.
Desperation makes her run longer, hope fuels her desperation. She hopes that she can escape her fate, even though she has accepted it.
Because you can only outrun the Devil and his Hounds for so long.
She runs, until a bloody upturned root trips her.
She hits the ground.
She struggles to get back up, to continue running.
But the breath, the rank breath, the growling, tells her it's too late.
She closes her eyes.
She accepts her fate.
Location: Dartmoor, Devon
Date: November, 2009
Time: Unknown. Late. Dark.
"Son of a bitch," he swears, as his mobile shows there is no reception. Of course there isn't, he's in the country, in the woods.
Being chased by..
.
Being chased.
He never should have scoffed at the legend, the curse. He took it for what he thought it was. Let's scare the newcomer to the family.
Yeah, well, he was stupid.
Don't ask questions. Don't investigate.
Yeah, yeah.
Well they shouldn't have told him the story. Even if it was a warning.
Because what did they expect for a reporter to do? Just ignore it all?
Yeah well, he should have.
Because his car is dead, he can't use his mobile to call for help, his wife is in London, and he's hiding in the woods of all places, in the dark. Trying like mad to escape...
His rational mind can barely fathom it.
But it's the only thing he can think of.
The Devil and his Hounds.
He stops running, leaning against the tree, and checks his mobile one more time.
No reception.
"Shite!"
He hears the howls again, and his blood goes cold as fear creeps back into him. He does the only rational thing.
He runs.
Fear propels him.
But an upturned root is his undoing.
He winces at the pain shooting up his knees, feels the blood trickle down the side of his head.
He tries to shake off the pain, tries to stand.
Only to hear the growling.
Then that voice...
He never believed in the Devil until now.
His only hope is that God forgives him for his past sins.
The man opens his eyes, and sees his death before him.
He accepts his fate.