Don't even ask what got into me.
This is my first attempt at a crossover, and I decided to bring out Sherlock Holmes in the universe of Undertale!

For the record, I found it impossible to place Ebott City's existence in America (well not saying Holmes couldn't have sailed there, but I wanted to keep some canonicity with Conan Doyle's novels), so I had to move it to Scotland.

Mt. Ebott is the fictional creation of Toby Fox, as is Undertale.
Sherlock Holmes belongs to A.C. Doyle.
I do not own the characters of either stories, but I own this story.

Also, I'm trying to keep Conan Doyle's style of storytelling if possible.
Enjoy.

It was a foggy evening of September when this strange adventure started. Holmes was focused in a chemical analysis to help pass some time and keep his mind tinkering, and I was sitting in my armchair, reading the Times, hoping I would find something note-worthy to share with him. "Hear this, dear fellow. A young lady is searching for her missing dog, Archibald. She's offering a large reward-", only to be interrupted by the stern voice of the great detective, "Watson, enough. I won't be taking such petty cases that do not offer me a challenge. And besides, I am sure that the dog will return to the young lady in two-three days. You'll see that announcement gone in Thursday's Times. Now, do not interrupt me further." the slender detective said as he returned to his experiment table, his eyes focused on the chemicals. After such a refuse from my friend, I strived to search for something that would really pick his interest, and make him abandon for a long while his chemical experiments - they had gone to such an extent Miss Hudson had to convince Holmes to reduce his experimental missions - but Holmes insisted that these are helping him focus, otherwise he would be resorting to injecting cocaine into his system just to pass the time, and Miss Hudson, seeing she was defeated in her attempt, let him be with his chemicals. It wasn't long until I noticed a rather odd article about a mountain where children disappeared. "Holmes, I think this one would surely interest you. Please, just give it a moment's rest from that experiment." I said, as he reluctantly placed back two substances in their place, and sat himself across me, in his armchair. He picked up his pipe and lit a bit of his tobbaco, while examining me with curiosity, and told me, in his usual tone,"Very well, Watson. I am listening."

"Strange Disappearances on Mount Ebott", I began reading the article, "residents of Ebott City, in Scotland, are shocked as six children, aged 8 to 11 years old, have gone missing since August 22nd, 1899. Locals claim that each year, a children went missing. The local police, each time a disappearance occured, have tried everything in their power to find the missing children, as they searched all around the woods and in every possible cave that they knew around. Some of them had families, and some others were residents in the local orphanage. It is said that Scotland Yard was called in to solve this case. Will the children's fate be known?" As I finished reading the article, I could see a spark igniting in my friend's eyes, as he puffed from his pipe, "Ah, Watson. It means we'll have the visit of Lestrade tomorrow," Holmes said with a chuckle. "This case looks interesting, and I have no doubt it will offer us a challenge," to which I nodded curtly. "I will look for a train for Thursday, towards Ebott City."

The next day, sun began to shine outside, and I asked Holmes to leave out some air in here, to which he waved casually, "It is not the state of our air that concerns me, Watson. I'm more interested in what news will Lestrade bring, as I asked Wiggins to fetch him for me." my friend said, in a rather monotone voice as he was dressed in a white shirt, grey pants, and black shoes, as he puffed from the pipe some more. "I will ask Ms. Hudson to bring us some breakfast, Holmes. Would a cup of tea and some well done eggs suffice for you?" I asked curtly, to which Holmes only nodded while he kept puffing his pipe. It was somewhere around afternoon when the all-familiar detective from Scotland Yard entered our apartment, accompanied by Wiggins. "Here you go, fellow," I said as I tossed him a sovereign. Lestrade looked like he didn't had a good rest in days, and he sat down as Holmes gestured so.

- So, Lestrade, what news do you bring? Holmes asked, with a smile on his lips.
- Mr. Holmes, I gather that by now you must've made some ideas from what is written in the papers, Lestrade said as he pointed towards the Times I left out on my armchair.
- A few, my dear Lestrade. I am hoping you can bring some more facts I can work with, Holmes said.
- Well, much of what's in the papers is what we know as well, but one of the boys down at the Yard lived there for a few years. He said people blame the children's disappearance on an old legend, Lestrade said.
- Holmes, I hope this isn't another legend like that of the Baskervilles, I mused as I looked towards my friend.
- We shall pay a visit to this officer, Lestrade, Holmes said as he rose up to lead the detective out. What's his name?
- His name is Jacob Silver, Lestrade answered as he pulled out his notebook. He lives down Waterbury Street, at number eight. Thank you for your help, Mr. Holmes. I hope we'll solve this case soon.
- See you later, Lestrade, my friend said as he closed the door.

This whole affair, to me at least, felt like reliving the adventures of the 'Hound of the Baskervilles', where Holmes dealt for the first time with shady legends surrounding a place, a legend that didn't prove to be true in the end, all being just a huge hoax Holmes managed to stop in time before it hurt more people. I could see the expression on my friend's face changing from exultation to a deep frown, as he wasn't prepaired to tinker with so few data. He always used to tell me "it is wrong to emit a theory with no data," and this time I could see he didn't steer away from that principle. He kept the pipe in his mouth and headed towards the violin, which sat abandoned in a corner of the room, and began playing a tune I never heard before. It was a tune that reminded of strengths, of weaknesses, of old fables long gone, and it was the first time I genuinely listened with interest as he harmonized the notes over the violin's strings. I must've drifted off to sleep rather quick, for he gently awoke me with his hand placed on my left shoulder "Watson. Come, we must visit that officer's home," and I could note, albeit with sleepy eyes, that he was wearing his deerstalker cap and a cape above his attire. Slowly, but steadily, I searched for my revolver, which I placed in my right pocket and then, took my hat hanging on the rack and dusted my suit. As we got outside in London's chilly air, Holmes hailed for a cab. "We cannot wait for too long, or some other child will disappear on that mountain," he said sternly. "Waterbury Street, number eight," I told the driver as we sat down comfortably in the cabin. Holmes sat silent as he looked out on the window, and I was just as silent, because I couldn't really make any theory for him to dismiss, but the cab came to a stop thirty minutes later. "Waterbury Street, sir," the driver told us, and Holmes handed him a guinea for the trip.

After thanking us with a curt not, the driver and its' cab left and we were sitting in front of a small house with one light coming from a window, and the street was barely illuminated by a lamp post. "Let's go, Watson.", Holmes told me after a few moments of examining the apparel of this house. He knocked on the door, and behind, some ruffling could be heard. "Good evening, gentlemen," a young lady, in her twenties, opened the door. Holmes noted she had a few scars and bruises on her arms, bags under her eyes, her dress was torn in a few places and one of her feet was a bit twisted.

- Good evening, Miss Silver, Holmes said as he tipped his deerstalker hat. We are looking for your husband, Mr. Jacob Silver.
- Jacob! Two men want to see you, come here! Miss Silver said.

In the hallway, I could note the presence of a rather robust man, perhaps in his thirties, that wore a blue dressing gown, and who recently shaved, as I smelt the scent of cologne. He went to greet us, as he gently pushed his wife. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

- I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my colleague, dr. Watson, Holmes said as he introduced us.
- Mr. Holmes? the man's face went pale with emotion seeing the greatest detective at his humble house's door. I am terribly sorry for my lack of words and for the way me and my wife have greeted you, Jacob Silver said. How can I help you, sir? the man asked as he gestured towards us to enter the house.

Inside the house, a rather dim light illuminated the hallway, and Jacob Silver led us in the living room, which was modestly decorated. An old grandfather clock stood opposite of us, and I could see it was nine o'clock in the evening. A medium sized table was in the center of the room, with three chairs, and Jacob Silver motioned towards us "Have a seat. Should I ask my wife to bring you some tea?" but Holmes politely refused.

- We're here for the Mount Ebott case, Mr. Silver, my friend said.
- Mount Ebott? I lived in Ebott City for some while until I met Julia, my wife. I heard there was a legend involving this mountain, but I never believed that, Jacob said as he sipped from a cold cup of tea.
- Could you please tell us the legend? I inquired.

The man made a brief pause before he recounted the legend of Mount Ebott. "Legend has it, that the mountain is cursed. Whoever wanders around the forest or on the mountain itself is said to disappear. I never believed that legend to be real, until I saw the papers this morning. Six children, to disappear in six years, and nobody made an inquiry in their disappearance, until now. Their parents have searched them ever since, and for those who didn't have a family...nobody really cared about them. The police deemed the case closed after the sixth child's disappearance. And we're now in the year of glory 1906. How is it possible that nobody ever bothered all these years? But what do I know...I was younger back then and tried to make my way through life."

-That is an interesting story, Holmes said as he leant in the chair. I'm really intrigued, Watson. Thank you, Mr. Silver, my friend said as he made his way towards the door, and the robust officer invited us out.

"Holmes, whatever did you mean by that?" I asked, in complete puzzlement at the rather short talk. "Watson, I'm sorry I have not prolongued the discussion, but I have heard what I needed to hear. Let us return to Baker Street, tomorrow we have a long day ahead." Holmes said as he called a cab and we returned to our apartment. I hoped to understand whatever was expecting us, and after a few tosses and turns while thinking of this case, I managed to drift off to sleep.