Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Sherlock characters. Thanks to all the actors, writers, etc that make the original series so worth writing about!
BASKERVILLE
"Is there anybody there?" Said John Watson
Running 'cross the laboratory floor
But the Hounds grim snarl was all he heard
As he dashed from door to door.
Then he found a cage to hide in
That was once an animal's bed
And then suddenly a movement from directly outside,
"Are you alright John?" Sherlock said
At that John shot from his hiding place
And tried to catch his breath
"I'm bloody NOT alright!" he shouted out,
And his skin was pale as death
Sherlock stared at the ex-army doctor
As he shook like a leaf in the breeze
"Are you sure it was the Hound?" he asked
"Tell me John, what did you see?"
"He was huge with fur black as pitch" he said
"Red eyes glowing like burning coals"
John's own eyes were huge, like saucers
He was chilled down to his soul.
He was thankful his friend had saved him,
Didn't know where the dog had gone
While Sherlock stood and watched his movements
He saw something was quite wrong
For Sherlock was saying the eyes didn't glow
He'd planted the thought in his head
"It wasn't the Hound, I promise you,
It wasn't the Hound!" he said.
Not a word said Captain Watson
As Sherlock admitted his crime
"I fed you that line about red glowing eyes!"
He'd gone too far this time!
Still they left the lab together
Sherlock knew that John would follow
And all seemed well, 'til they got the call
"Henry Knight's at Dewar's Hollow!"
Inspired by The Listeners by Walter De La Mare (1873 – 1958)
"Is there anybody there?" said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grass
Of the forest's ferny floor;
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller's head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
"Is there anybody there?" he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller's call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
"Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word," he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.