Hounds or Tails
John moved through the lab as the last of the scientists left, turning off the primary lights. Left in a semi-dark lab, John felt his pulse quicken. He had been on edge since they had arrived at Baskerville; it was exactly where a merman did not want to be: a secret government lab. One of his greatest fears the last twenty-something years had been that he would be found out and experimented on. Sherlock, of course, was clearly not feeling nervous at all, but he was new to this whole thing. He hadn't yet had enough close calls to generate the kind of fear John was feeling now.
John moved over to the side of the room and checked out a side room before returning, and that's when all hell broke loose.
Blinded by the sudden bright lights, he threw his hand over his eyes, trying to shield them. Just as suddenly, the alarms began blaring, deafening after the silence of the lab. He tried to use the keycard to open the door, but it refused to work. And all at once, it stopped. The alarm cut off, and the lights turned off. Now, there was only the dim light from the few electronics that were still on.
John took out his small torch, shining it around the lab as he tried to get the spots in his vision to fade. After trying the other doors—with no success—that was when he heard it: growling.
Oh, God, John thought. The Hound. It's true.
Suddenly, he heard nails scraping on the tiled floor, and he turned to see a dark shape looming over him. Reacting on instinct, he threw his arms up, sending the monstrous hound with its ethereal glow and red eyes flying across the lab. The hound hit the far wall and slid to the floor. The hound shook its furry head, growled and began to get its feet under it when it was struck with several large tranquilizer darts.
John's gaze shot over to the door behind him, where four soldiers were advancing on the hound, guns in hand and night vision goggles on. Major Barrymore was behind them. John's heart started hammering.
Did they see? he nervously thought. They had to have! They had to have been watching the cameras to know the hound was in here! But the power went out! Maybe they didn't see! Remain calm. Perhaps they'll ignore you.
Barrymore marched over to him. "How did you do that?"
John tried to portray confusion instead of terror. "Do what?"
"You sent that thing flying across the lab," said Barrymore. "You didn't even touch it. How?"
John frowned. "I don't know what you're—"
"Yeah, sure," said Barrymore, clasping his hands behind his back. His eyes tracked off to the side, and he jerked his head towards John.
Immediately, two hands clasped themselves around John's arms.
"What are you doing?" John demanded, his pulse skyrocketing. "Let me go!" He tried pulling his arms free, but they were holding him tight.
"Take him to Level 3," Barrymore ordered. "Let's see what he's made of."
"No!" John yelled, giving up any kind of pretense as they began dragging him towards the lift. "Stop! Let me go!" He struggled as hard as he could, but their grips were like vices. "You can't do this!"
"We're the government, Dr. Watson," said Barrymore. "We can do whatever we want."
Bugger it, John thought.
He turned his hands so the palms were pointed towards his biceps, and he closed his fists. The soldiers yelled and let go of him, cradling their burned hands. John made a break for it, running towards the only safety he could see: the abandoned cage in the middle of the lab. Two more soldiers intercepted him, and he raised his hands, sending them across the lab. He reached the cage, slammed the door closed and lowered the cloth covering it.
Invisibility, John thought as he tried to bring his breathing under control. That's the only way. Sneak past them.
"Watson!" yelled Barrymore.
Something banged on the bars of the cage. The shadows of the soldiers were visible on the cloth. They were swinging stuff—crowbars, pipes, rifles?—at the bars.
"You're in our cage, Watson," Barrymore yelled. "We have the key. Come out!"
No, no, no! John thought, gripping onto either side of his head as the banging on the bars continued.
Sherlock watched as John shone his torch around the lab. He placed the audio recorder up to the microphone connected to the lab's speakers and played the growling noises. On the monitors, John froze. He spun around, his eyes widening, and he flung his hands up, causing a rolling cart in the middle of the lab to fly across the room and hit the wall.
Hmm… wondered Sherlock. Hallucinating the hound already. I thought I would have to provide more stimuli.
John suddenly turned towards the door behind him, and he nearly started hyperventilating.
Sherlock frowned. Hallucinating more than one?
He could see John visibly trying to control the obvious fear emanating from him.
John unconsciously took a slight step back, his gaze fixed on a point in front of him just a few inches above his own eye line. "Do what?"
Sherlock's frown deepened. Hallucinating a human? Why? How did the hound hallucination cause this?
John gave a convincing frown. "I don't know what you're—"
A few seconds later, John's arms were jostled slightly. It caused Sherlock's eyes to narrow as he leaned closer to the screen. That hadn't been a movement John had made. It was as though someone had grabbed onto his arms.
"What are you doing?" John demanded, his eyes wide. He pulled his arms slightly, struggling against some unseen force. "Let me go!"
Sherlock's focus narrowed in on John's arms. The army doctor was indeed struggling against something. Something had a hold of John's upper arms.
"No!" John suddenly yelled as the invisible something began pulling John towards the lift. "Stop!"
Oh, God, Sherlock thought as it clicked. The drug is affecting his powers. He's the one who has hold of him.
"Let me go!" John yelled, clearly in the throes of panic. "You can't do this!"
A few seconds later, he turned his hands over, and John's telekinetic hold on himself released. He ran for the covered cage, raising his hands to ward off an enemy only he could see, before shutting himself inside.
The drug must have tapped into another fear, Sherlock realized. Something more terrifying than the hound.
Sherlock jumped in alarm as two chairs began hurtling themselves at the outside of the cage, banging on the bars over and over again.
Oh, God, thought Sherlock as he ran for the door.
Sherlock tore through the doors of the lab, his eyes landing on the row of covered cages to his right. The stools were still banging against the bars of the last one. He waved his hand, sending the stools flying away from the cage. He rushed towards it, hearing John hyperventilating inside. Mentally flipping the lights in the lab back on, he yanked the curtain aside and pushed the cage door open.
John looked up at him with wide eyes, his hands clenched in his hair.
"John," said Sherlock urgently, stepping inside. "Are you all right?"
"Keep them out," John panted. "Don't let them take me. Please don't let them take me."
"There's no one here, John," said Sherlock soothingly.
John frowned at him. "But Barrymore saw me use my powers. He-he was having me taken to a lab."
"That's what you saw?" asked Sherlock. Of course! That's why he's been unnerved this whole case. Being found out and experimented on is probably his greatest fear. Stupid!
"Saw?" asked John.
"You've been drugged," Sherlock told him. "We have all been drugged. That's why people are seeing this hound. Hallucinogenics and the power of suggestion! That's what happened to you."
John frowned as he shakily stood and moved out of the cage, looking around the empty lab. "But…but they grabbed me. They were dragging me to the lift."
"No, it was you," Sherlock told him. "The hallucinogenic must have caused you to access your powers. You were grabbing yourself." He motioned to John's arms.
John looked down at the slightly signed material of his jacket, right where he was hallucinated burning the hands grabbing him. He looked back at Sherlock. "And the soldiers banging on the bars…"
"Your telekinesis was banging chairs against the bars," Sherlock explained.
John's gaze fell to the floor, calming down as his breathing evened out.
"I am sorry, John," Sherlock told him. "I had no idea our powers could be affected by this drug."
John paused, his eyes narrowing, before he looked up at Sherlock. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Sherlock hesitated. "I had to prove my hypothesis in order to solve the case—"
"What hypothesis?" asked John, his jaw clenched.
"That the drug was hidden in Henry's sugar," Sherlock blurted out quickly.
John closed his eyes, and Sherlock could see the moment it clicked. "There was sugar in my coffee."
"I already knew the effect it had on my mind," said Sherlock. "I needed to—"
"It was you."
Sherlock watched as John glared up at him.
"You locked me in this bloody lab," muttered John with gritted teeth.
"I had to," said Sherlock with a guilty plea in his voice. "It was an experiment."
"An experiment?" hissed John angrily. "I was terrified, Sherlock! I was scared to death!"
"John," said Sherlock uneasily.
"Do you have any idea how terrified I have been this entire trip?" John yelled.
Sherlock tensed as a microscope, a work bench, a rolling cart and some chairs began to rise into the air behind John. And they appeared to be angling themselves towards him.
"Do you know how hard I work to not get caught?" John yelled. "How many close calls I've had in my life? And you think it's an okay idea to lock a merman up in a government lab with a hallucinogenic running through his veins?!"
"John," said Sherlock as the projectiles started to shake in their building momentum.
"What?!" said John.
Sherlock nodded at the items floating in the air behind John. John turned and looked at them, startled. He unclenched his fists, and the items fell to the floor. He gave an aggravated sigh and looked back at Sherlock.
"You realize this—" John jerked his head back to the debris on the floor, "is all your fault?" He turned and stormed towards the door.
Sherlock stared at the fallen lab equipment for a moment before turning to watch his friend leave. I already apologized this morning. Do I have to again?
"So, what do you think?" John asked as he dug into his breakfast outside the Cross Keys Pub. "Will they remember?"
"That the both of us used telekinesis at the Hollow?" said Sherlock next to him. "Most definitely."
"And your plan is?" asked John as he spotted Lestrade headed their way.
"Use your brain, John," Sherlock muttered in a low voice. "It was a hallucinogenic."
"So," said Lestrade as he stopped next to their table. "Another case solved."
"Yep," said Sherlock nonchalantly.
"That'll be quite a story to tell back at the Yard," said Lestrade.
"When are you headed back?" asked John.
"Train leaves in an hour," Lestrade answered. "Finally put this place well behind me." His gaze wandered off to Dewer's Hollow in the distance. "So strange…"
"What?" asked John.
Greg looked up at them. "I was really hallucinating last night. Bad."
"We all were, Inspector," Sherlock brushed off.
"Yeah, but this was so real," said Greg. "When Frankland went down, I could have sworn you…" He glanced away, shaking his head.
"What?" prompted John again.
Greg looked back at Sherlock. "I thought I saw you, like, wave your hand or something. Like telekinesis."
Sherlock frowned. "Where did you pull that illusion from?"
Greg shrugged. "I don't know." He shook his head again. "What a bad trip." He walked away towards the parking lot.
John looked over at Sherlock, who also glanced at him, and they both started laughing.