A.N.- Whoa, ladies and gentlemen we have breached 2,600-something-ish views! That's amazing!
Now on to my reviews/ mentions…
RomeoBlack123: Wow, interesting that you refer to my favorite character as a "sarcastic little fucker". Love you too, man. And GET your physics test done so we can go hang out! Sweet Lord, I will raid the food bin under your bed if you don't quit spamming me.
AmalieNico- Did you really mean James the Tour Guide? Or am I detecting light hints of sarcasm? I'm debating whether or not to bring him back, because I'm pretty sure I'm wrapping up Baskerville in this chapter.
And that's it! Oh, and I got a job at the barn where I ride so I can pay for my stuff by myself! It may not seem like a big deal but guys… I'm 14 and going to college. Now I have a job. And I love it. Hell yes.
Thanks for the support!
The Dame of Baker Street, Ch. 10
"Madeline, I just need you to go home and sleep it off."
"No."
"I'm not going to let you come with us."
"Well you can't leave me here!" She protested. John sighed and rubbed at his face.
"Look, Henry is taking me and Sherlock to the hollow tonight; and you've had enough stress for the next few days." He said. Sherlock stood behind him and frowned.
"We're going out and you're not invited. Listen to him and go to sleep." They were standing in Henry's living room, and its owner was passed out on his couch. Major Barrymore had seemed almost jubilant to kick the three of them out of his facility after their pass from Mycroft expired.
"I need to complete my experiment, Miss Carver. You must go to sleep for that to happen." Sherlock said irately. Madeline glared at him and John sighed.
"Not the way to phrase that, Sherlock." He said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It's getting dark, let's go." He gently shook Henry, who started awake violently and made Madeline jump. Sherlock donned his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck before striding to the door. John and Henry followed him.
"Miss Carver, mind sharp objects and don't make a mess. Goodnight." The detective said before walking out the door and locking it behind him. Madeline scowled and flopped onto the couch, watching the headlights of the car swivel beams of light across the trees before disappearing from sight. She was still furious at Sherlock and a little hurt that he had so carelessly locked her in the lab for an experiment. She was pleased, however that she felt no negative feelings nor any overly-elated ones. She was contently lying in the rare in-between lull midway between her moods.
Madeline sighed and tugged her sleeves down as she trudged up the stairs to Henry's bedroom. She laid in bed for only a few minutes before she was fast asleep; until the lights in the backyard flared on. Madeline stumbled out of the bed again and dashed to the window, terrified of what she might see. A Labrador loped across the yard tiredly and burrowed into Henry's overturned trash bins. Madeline breathed a wary sigh of relief and returned to bed. She slept soundly until the door opened and slammed.
She glanced at the clock, taking in its face that read 3:38 am. She groaned and rolled out of bed and felt her way down the stairs in near darkness. Something heavy hit the floor across the room from her in the living room.
"John?" Madeline called, "Henry? Sherlock?"
"Madeline," Someone panted. Madeline felt around in the dark until she bumped into someone.
"John, what happened? What's wrong?" She asked. The light flickered on in the room, revealing a pale John Watson standing by the light switch across the room and Sherlock directly in front of her. His face was pale, almost chalk white. He seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn't. He's scared. Madeline thought to herself, the very notion of it rattling her confidence. Sherlock Holmes didn't get scared. He knew everything. Henry stumbled through the door behind John, drawn and white as a sheet. He collapsed onto his couch with a low groan and buried his face in his hands.
"Sherlock," Madeline asked quietly, "What happened to you guys?" The detective slid his hands over his face repeatedly until she guided him to one of the chairs and he dropped into it unceremoniously.
"You were right, Miss Carver." He said quietly. "I saw the thing you saw. In the hollow." John came and took a seat in the chair next to them, looking unnerved but not as shellshocked as the others. For some strange reason Madeline felt her mood lightening, and the beginnings of giddy laughter bubbling in her stomach. He said I was right, her mind cheered before sobering itself thoughtfully. Shut up, this isn't the time for it.
"Did you see it, John?" She asked aloud. The doctor shook his head quietly.
"No, I got lost on the way to the hollow. I found Sherlock and Henry tearing their way through the woods like mad and trying to get out." He answered. A small hissing noise flickered to Madeline's ears, and she turned to see Sherlock holding the tip of a lighter to a cigarette he had conjured out of nowhere. He dangled the thing between his lips precariously and inhaled it like he desperately needed air. John growled and made a grab for the cigarette, but Sherlock jerked away and held it out of his flatmate's reach.
"Sherlock, you were just getting over it." John said, Henry was still shaking on the couch; mumbling things into his hands furiously. Madeline threw him a nervous glance.
"Um, John why don't you take Henry upstairs to his room. I think I'm done sleeping for the night." She said, the doctor nodded and helped Henry to his feet. They wobbled up the staircase until Henry's door creaked shut tiredly. Sherlock continued to smoke, all the while staring avidly at the empty air in front of him.
"So- mind telling me what happened?" Madeline asked quietly. Sherlock's glare intensified and he exhaled an unsteady stream of smoke from his mouth. Madeline turned her head to avoid inhaling the pungent air as Sherlock began to rant at a furious pace.
"There was no feasible way the "hound" you and Henry saw could have been real- it just couldn't have. But I saw it." He said.
"The hound?" Madeline whispered.
"Of course the hound!" Sherlock growled, "When I was in the hollow with Henry I saw it; this big, hulking monster ready to tear our throats out." He pulled the cigarette away from his lips, glaring balefully at the white stick that trembled in his hand. He laughed harshly before returning the cigarette to his mouth. "Look at me; I'm shaking. Pathetic. My body is betraying me, I'm becoming subject to humanity." Madeline pursed her lips nervously.
"Sherlock, I know it's scary; I'm still scared. I just think maybe we've just gotten a little worked up over this. I saw an ordinary black dog in the yard tonight, maybe that's what we're seeing-"
"Worked up? Worked up?" Sherlock snarled, "Don't be ridiculous, there's nothing wrong with me and I'm not worked up."
"I never said-"
"But you meant it." He cut across her, touching his fingertips together and pressing them to his forehead. The cigarette dangled loosely from his mouth, dropping pale ashes onto the detective's shirt. He ignored them as he growled in frustration quietly. Madeline shifted nervously, trying to find an easy way to break the terse silence.
"Sherlock-"
"There is nothing wrong with me!" The detective snarled, "If anything you're the broken one." He added callously. Madeline pulled in a breath between her teeth, reining in the urge to hit him.
"You want me to prove it? Fine." He growled, "Your hair is mussed on your left side, indicating you slept well on that side; but on your right the hair is less disturbed. Apparently you got up in the middle of the night again after sleeping on your left side, then went back to sleep on your right." Madeline couldn't resist contradicting the man.
"What if I rolled over to my other side?"
"Don't be stupid. The hair on the back of your head is in its normal ratty state. You stayed on one side." Sherlock barked. John chose to reenter the room, although Madeline suspected from the look on the doctor's face that he had been listening. He took the seat he'd been in before escorting Henry to bed and reclined uneasily.
"Henry was in an absolute panic, but he's asleep, now." He said.
"Sherlock just deduced my sleeping habits from my bedhead." Madeline explained. Sherlock ignored them and continued.
"Therefore I am absolutely fine. There's nothing wrong with me besides the fact that two annoying persons are insisting that I spill my soul to them. I'm fine, I've never been better, so leave. Me. Alone." He growled. John cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Right, right. You don't have to listen to me, Sherlock. Definitely not to your friend." John said a little angrily.
"Friends." Madeline, interjected, emphasizing the plural. Sherlock glared at her savagely.
"Don't be an idiot I don't have friends." He bit out. The three of them sat in silence for a moment. Until John pushed himself up from the chair.
"You know- I wonder why sometimes." He said quietly, although his anger was evident under the calm façade. "Make sure you take your meds, Madeline. Goodnight." The doctor said shortly before continuing up the stairs and making his way to the guest bedroom he was residing in. Madeline wrapped all of her fingers around her wrist and tried to hold back the swinging pendulum she felt swinging rapidly in her chest in sync with her hammering heart. He could be so- so:
"Heartless." Madeline whispered, "You can be so heartless sometimes, Sherlock." He glanced at her dismissively. She shook her head and slowly crept upstairs to another of Henry's guest bedrooms. Sherlock glared vehemently at the cigarette ash collecting on his lapel before retreating into his mind palace to calm his nerves and collect his thoughts.
. . .
Madeline woke up a few hours later to the loud clanging of things being dropped downstairs. She rolled over with a groan and tried to ignore it; but someone shouting nonsense at the ceiling didn't help her one bit. Eventually she rolled out of bed and made her way downstairs, where John was sitting at Henry's bar in an old shirt and boxers and Sherlock was rummaging around in Henry's cabinets, slamming the doors when he didn't find what he wanted and still in his clothes from the night before. John saw Madeline standing awkwardly in the adjoining room and hopped off of his chair, muttering about "being seen in my boxers" and "too early for this". Madeline took her neighbor's place as he trudged up the stairs. She also noted that Henry was nowhere to be seen.
"So what are you working on?" She asked, doing her best to feign nonchalance. Sherlock growled at the kitchen sink in frustration but when he turned around he had an engaged smile spread across his face.
"Because I've solved it." He acclaimed, "Last night I reviewed all the facts about the current events. Henry called the animal he'd seen a hound, and after you saw it you called it by the same name." Madeline rubbed at her eyes tiredly, still trying to adjust to the light.
"What? Sherlock it's too early in the morning for me to be smart. Dumb it down, please." Sherlock ignored her and breezed onto the next subject; ranting to himself more than to his neighbor.
"So perhaps your version of the 'hound' was based off of Henry's version of the 'hound'. You saw what you wanted to see because you already had saved what Henry had described the beast as to you and your imagination used that to fabricate the image of the 'hound' you saw." He said excitedly, bouncing around Henry's kitchen like he was a child on a sugar high. Madeline scowled.
"Nope, no, no, no, no. I know what I saw. My mind didn't fabricate it or anything, that monster was real." She objected.
"As real as you wanted it to be." Sherlock corrected her. "The problem is, we've all been drugged." Madeline sat for a second before speaking intelligently again.
"Wait, what?" Sherlock spun around agitatedly, opening and slamming one of Henry's cupboards again.
"Drugged. Dosed. Intoxicated, whatever you Americans call it."
"We call it stoned-"
"It must have been something in the food, or the water, maybe? But no, nobody else has seen the animal besides you, me and Henry except your boyfriend on the moor."
"Who? James? I talked to him for two minutes! He's not my-"
"Excellent, we should probably pay him a visit soon. Perhaps if we have time… but back to subject. I thought it must have been in the food Henry was eating, but I haven't been able to find any trace of any drug of hallucinogenic in his pantry." Sherlock mused animatedly. John came back downstairs, wearing actual pants and a button down. Sherlock pushed back from the cabinets and spun to face his flatmate.
"Excellent news, we're going back to Baskerville." He announced.
"Great," John responded flatly. His tone reminded Madeline that she was supposed to still be angry at the detective, but Sherlock's enthusiasm was infectious. Then she remembered what he had said to her the night before and felt her mood drop like a flat ball.
"Our pass expired." She said before walking upstairs and coming back down fully dressed. Sherlock was explaining something to John excitedly while the doctor listened apathetically. He seemed to be truly hurt by Sherlock's words from the night before; in truth she and John both were. They decided to let Henry sleep off his fright as they set off again for the military base.
. . .
Sherlock flashed an ID card at the guards at the gate, who were different than the ones from the day before. They saluted him and opened the rumbling gates to the blinding white enclosure of the base again.
"We have about fifteen minutes before they notice something went wrong." Sherlock muttered. "Follow me and don't let anyone get a good look at your faces." He stepped out of the car and turned up his coat collar anonymously. John snorted and walked normally beside his flatmate, while Madeline followed behind them. The detective led them to the door Major Barrymore had let them into with the keypad and closed his eyes briefly before punching the key code and opening the door effortlessly. Madeline followed him through it quietly, biting back the question on her tongue.
"How-"
"I listened to the beeps yesterday. Follow me." Sherlock said before veering down another hallway sharply. He stopped and backtracked suddenly, pushing Madeline and John back up the hall.
"Go this way," He hissed, pushing them into a different laboratory. Madeline heard military-grade footsteps pass the room and fade down the hall. She exhaled a small sigh of relief until she turned and got a mouthful of scarf in her face as Sherlock moved past her into the hallway again. She and John followed the detective's coat down the winding white corridors until he threw open the door to another lab and strode in. Madeline went in after him and recognized the woman glaring at them from across the room.
"Ah, yes. Hello, Dr. Stapleton how are the fluffy vermin?" Sherlock said pleasantly. She gave him a vehement look and squeezed the rabbit she was holding in her hands gingerly. Sherlock took two quick strides to the light switch on the wall and flicked it off. All light in the room was eliminated save for the sickly green aura emanating from the animal in Dr. Stapleton's gloved hands. John gasped, and Madeline resisted the urge to reach out and pet it.
"So, you've been experimenting in genetic engineering." Sherlock stated rather than asked. "Good for you, I know someone who knows a few things in that area." He jerked his head back towards Madeline, who could barely see in the light given by the rabbit. "Apparently you worked in the old abandoned genetics department, Dr. Stapleton." Sherlock speculated, "Nobody told me you work in the ongoing one."
"There is no genetic branch here." Dr. Stapleton said defensively. Sherlock snapped his fingers at her and spun around with his coat flaring behind him.
"Exactly, so would you mind explaining to me what the H.O.U.N.D project was? Or is?" He said, still maintaining a vindictively pleasant tone. Madeline could hear John huff and cross his arms, reminding her of her agitation with Sherlock still.
LOOK UP MATHEMATIC RANGE OF FUNCTIONS, DOMAINS, AND WHAT MAKES A FUNCTION AND TAKE NOTES INSTEAD OF WRITING FANFICTION IN CLASS. GODDAMN MADI FOCUS
Dr. Stapleton looked genuinely shocked. Her hands began to flex nervously on the rabbit until she began to stroke it agitatedly. It still glowed with the same pale green hue as a glow stick. Sherlock's eyes narrowed in the weak light triumphantly. He began to circle the woman like a hawk around a mouse.
"You were on the team responsible for the project, but it wasn't as much of a genetic project as it was a warfare experiment." The detective began; Dr. Stapleton spun around to follow him, unwilling to let him out of her sight. "Your original goal was to engineer super-dogs that could strike fear into even Russian soldiers, but after multiple failures you gave up and turned to an alternative." Sherlock continued.
"How did you- how do you know this?" Dr. Stapleton asked softly, Sherlock stopped and scowled at her.
"Please, don't insult me. I used the pass my contacts granted me and did some researching. You, Dr. Alfred F. Jones, and four other scientists were the key researchers on the project. And from what I've gathered you made quite a few advancements." He snapped, Dr. Stapleton's expression became closed off and defensive.
"I'm not authorized to tell you anything about that." She said, Sherlock wrinkled his nose thoughtfully.
"No, I guess not. But should I tell your daughter what happened to dear sweet Bluebell?" He said callously. Dr. Stapleton's eyes narrowed in a protective maternal manner that almost made Madeline laugh.
"You've been talking to my daughter? I could have you arrested!" She snapped.
"Really? Let's see who gets arrested first." Sherlock observed emotionlessly. "She contacted me through the internet; and I'll have you know an eleven-year-old schoolgirl holds no interest for me, Dr. Stapleton." Dr. Stapleton's mouth opened and closed soundlessly like a fish, and Sherlock's patronizing smile only grew bigger.
"Would you be kind enough to show us to Major Barrymore's office? I seem to be a little shorthanded on file evidence." He said, making it more demanding than it should have seemed. Dr. Stapleton closed her mouth and replaced the luminescent rabbit in its cage before exiting, Sherlock and John followed her. Madeline hesitated and stuck her fingers in the rabbit's cage just long enough to graze them over the animal's soft fur before pulling back and hurrying after her neighbors.
. . .
Dr. Stapleton eased into the room after checking that the Major was out. She sat in front of his computer and wriggled the mouse, but a lock screen popped up and politely asked for a password. She typed a couple letter and number combinations into the box, but it just beeped arrogantly every time and asked again.
"Get up." Sherlock said, seating himself firmly in front of the computer and surveying the room. "Eye level. What would be memorable at eye level…?" His blue eyes swept mercilessly over the busts of famous British leaders as well as their memorable works. He saw the picture tacked to the wall of Barrymore standing beside a younger boy with his hand on the young man's shoulder.
"That's James!" Madeline exclaimed. "From the moor!" Sherlock rolled his eyes and kept looking, although Madeline remained fascinated by the picture. His eyes scanned the surface of the desk swiftly, looking for repeated keywords or symbols. His eye caught on the Major's hat, hanging respectfully by the door.
"Man of habit." He muttered, surveying Barrymore's bookcases again. He snapped his fingers suddenly and spun back to the keyboard and punching in certo ceto before slamming the enter key. The computer blinked pleasantly and switched its screen to a blank background.
"I know what you're going to ask." Sherlock said as he began to root through the files stored on the computer with only a little guiding advice from a chagrined Dr. Stapleton. "The password was certo ceto, Latin for "swift and sure". It's the motto for the Royal Corps of Signals. Major Barrymore appears to be a strong patriot, and the Royal Signals are normally the first into combat if anything were to happen." He explained while scrolling furiously through folders. Madeline and John shuffled and milled aimlessly behind him.
"What do you mean "appears to be"?" John asked, forgetting his anger at his flatmate. Sherlock huffed and threw him a glance.
"Fine, then he is a patriot. Don't be so nitpicky." John frowned and went back to perusing the shelves aimlessly.
"There!" Dr. Stapleton said suddenly, "That file, there." Sherlock opened it and began to sort through the multiple windows popping up in the monitor's screen. Madeline and John stood behind the detective as his eyes scanned quickly over the scrolling text, taking in words and phrases. Madeline peered over his shoulder and couldn't hold back a gasp as the screen stopped dead.
Hound.
H.O.U.N.D
Highland
Organism
Undefined
Neurologic
Determination Program
Sherlock groaned and leaned forward, fisting his hands into his hair and squeezing his eyes tightly shut.
"I should have seen this coming." He growled. "Why didn't you say anything about this?" He snapped at Dr. Stapleton, who frowned at him.
"You wouldn't slow down." She said simply, "I think I'll go back to my lab, now." Madeline reached out to stop her as the doctor turned to go, but Sherlock laughed once and sat back in the chair.
"Yes, by all means do. The police will be in touch with you shortly. I recommend you get rid of your genetic projects before then." He said callously. Dr. Stapleton gave him a nervous look before hurrying down the hall the way they'd come. Sherlock sighed and leaned forward again.
"So it was a genetic experiment." John said in awe, "That's why I never saw the hound. Because I hadn't had a dose of the drug." As soon as he finished speaking his phone began to ring. "Hello?" He answered cautiously, his eyes widened and he quickly put the call on speaker phone.
"Dr. Watson. I can't I just can't. Everything is spinning, and the hound- I've got to- the hound. I have to go, I have to prove my dad was right." Madeline recognized the garbled voice as Henry's, and Sherlock did, as well. He pushed back from the desk and snatched John's phone before striding out of the office and taking long steps that almost built into a run down the hallway.
"Henry, listen to me." The detective said firmly but calmly. "You need to stay where you are right now. Stay exactly where you are and we'll come find you. Don't go anywhere near the hollow, do you hear? Henry?" He shook the phone exasperatedly and tossed it back to John, who was right on his heels with Madeline behind him. "The service blanked out, Henry is thinking of going to the hollow and doing something stupid." Sherlock growled, throwing the door leading outside open and pushing past a furious Major Barrymore.
"What are you doing back here on my base?" He roared, rounding about and matching Sherlock's strides evenly. The detective ignored his prompt and only gave him a snippet of his attention as he climbed into the car they'd driven into the base that morning. Madeline and John climbed in behind him.
"You should thoroughly check your personnel, Major. You might have a fatal leak." And with that he cranked the engine and sped out of the base's lot.
"So how did they administer the drug to us?" Madeline asked, leaning between the front seats to get a clear look at where Sherlock was taking them. The sun was beginning to dip itself behind the grassy hills, and a small chill made itself known at the base of Madeline's spine. Sherlock's grip tightened on the steering wheel agitatedly as he pressed the pedal down further.
"I don't know." He said bitterly, "But I will figure it out."
. . .
"Henry!" John shouted, swinging the beam of his flashlight across the trees hurriedly. "Henry, where are you?" A short distance away in the woods, Madeline seconded his shouts, and Sherlock pushed ahead to lead them to the hollow.
It was a large space, ringed ominously with towering trees and dense shrubbery. Henry Knight was kneeling in the center of the hollow, and white mist swirled around him eerily, lending a mystical setting to the scene. Madeline, Sherlock, and John stopped at the edge of the hollow above Henry's position; but Madeline saw something shiny glint in Henry's hand.
"I'm so sorry, Dad." He muttered to himself before leaning his head back and opening his mouth to insert the silver muzzle of the gun he held.
"Henry!" Madeline shouted, starling the man. She slipped and slid her way down the slope to him and stopped a few feet away. "Henry, please put down your gun. There's a different way to go about this." She whispered softly, but he shook his head roughly.
"No, I'm tired of the voices." Henry said, his voice hoarse from tears. "They're talking, and I keep on seeing the hound. I want it over. This is the only way to fix it for good." He leaned his head back again, and Madeline took another step forward. She could hear Sherlock and John sliding to a stop behind her, unable to move closer because of the tense situation.
"No, no that won't fix it, okay? Trust me, it won't make the voices go away; and you'll just see the hound even more." Madeline said, trying to coax Henry to calm down. Her words had the opposite effect, he gave an anguished shout and shoved the gun into his mouth. The relentless metal muffled his yells and made Madeline panic.
"Henry, no!" She shouted, darting forward until she was right beside him. She didn't touch him because his finger was already wrapped around the trigger; but she did her best to iron the wavering tone from her voice and to sound assertive.
"Henry please. Don't do this. It won't work the way you think it will." She said softly to him. Henry's eyes were wide open and stared at the canopy of trees above his head, they slowly began to relax and return to a normal state; and he pulled the gun out of his mouth gingerly.
"There you go," Madeline said gently, "I need you to give me the gun now, Henry." He shook his head like a child and clutched the weapon to his chest. Madeline was about to ask him again, but Sherlock and John were at her side in an instant.
"Good job," Sherlock said shortly before beginning to examine Henry with John and stand him up. The man refused to relinquish his hold on the gun, though. A low growl echoed through the mist and reverberated off of the trees. Madeline spun around, feeling cold spikes of icy fear stab at her lungs, shooting fire through her veins.
"Sherlock," She whispered; the mist at the top of the banks surrounding the hollow churned rapidly until it parted to reveal a hulking black figure standing menacingly in the dark on four paws. It growled, revealing long fangs that gleamed in the last light of the day. Henry moaned and shook his head rapidly, the gun rattled in his hands uncertainly. Madeline turned to Sherlock and John for reassurance, but John looked frozen to the spot, and Sherlock's eyes were wide open with disbelief, shock, and just a touch of fear. Something else moved behind him; he spun around furiously and landed a sound blow to the second figure's head. The stranger shouted in pain and crumpled to the ground, but Sherlock caught him by his coat and held him upright. Madeline spun around and saw him tear something off of the stranger's face and stumble back in shock.
"No! No! You're not here!" Sherlock shouted, pushing the stranger back. John's erratic flashlight beam swept over the stranger's face, revealing the kindly features of Dr. Jones from Baskerville.
"What are you doing here?" Madeline asked, Dr. Jones ignored her and pointed at the dog; it stepped forward menacingly with a growl ripping from his throat. Sherlock stepped back from Dr. Jones, his eyes roving wildly around the hollow. The mist swirled around him as he spun around and snatched what he had torn from Dr. Jones's face. A gas mask.
"The air. The drug, it's in the air!" Sherlock shouted, "Don't breathe it in!" Madeline's hands flew up to cover her mouth, dropping her flashlight to the ground. Its beam rolled to a stop on the demon hound on top of the hill. It growled and took a flying leap to the base of the hollow, landed in front of John and let loose a deep growl. The doctor covered his nose and mouth with his coat sleeve and swung his light at the dog, but it growled and snapped its jaws at him. It clamped down on the edge of John's sleeve and jerked him forward, sending him sprawling onto the carpet of leaves.
"John!" Sherlock shouted to him, "Stay still!" Dr. Jones snatched his gas mask back and replaced it onto his face. Henry began to shake uncontrollably.
"You." He stammered, "I saw you, not the dog. It was you!" With an inhuman scream of rage he tacked Dr. Jones to the ground, and Madeline took a flying step forwards to try and pull them apart.
"You killed him!" Henry howled, "You killed my father!" Dr. Jones had wrestled the gas mask back onto his face, and light was glinting eerily off of the eyepieces. The dog snarled at the movement and leapt forward with its fangs bared. Sherlock dove to the ground and grabbed up the gun Henry had dropped in his haste to get to Jones. The detective rolled over and fired two shots into the center of the dog's chest, throwing the monster back onto the leaves and mulch in the mist. The hound whined pitifully and struggled to get to its feet, but Sherlock fired one more shot at it and it fell to the ground in a limp heap of skin and bones. The sudden noise and reverberating echoes of the gunshots froze everyone, including Henry and Madeline. Dr. Jones kicked at Henry's stomach and pushed himself to his feet, disappearing into the swirling white mist creeping into the hollow. Henry sprinted after him, and Madeline followed right on his heels.
"Madeline, stop!" John shouted, staggering to his feet. Sherlock stood warily and clutched the gun in his hand before taking off after them, John followed suit. They raced between the trees, trying to follow the cracks in the underbrush from Madeline, Henry, and Dr. Jones. The white mist lessened and faded until it only appeared in thin white wisps. The tenants of 221 B ran through a line of trees and passed Henry struggling to his feet and brushing leaves from his jacket. John stopped to help him up, but Sherlock kept going.
"Mr. Holmes! I advise you stop right there!" Someone called. The detective wheeled around uncertainly, trying to find the source of the voice. He pushed through another layer of trees until he emerged on an enormous, empty field with Dr. Alfred F. Jones and Madeline standing near the edge a few feet apart from each other. Sherlock started into the field angrily, but Madeline shrieked.
"No! Sherlock get off the field!" She shouted, waving her hands in front of her. The detective stopped short at the panicked tone in her voice and even took an uncertain step back. Dr. Jones smiled widely and removed the gas mask from his face.
"Take a look around you, Mr. Holmes." He called, "This is Baskerville's mine field. One false step and these mines will go off like fireworks!" Madeline had her elbows pressed to her sides and her hands splayed out like a bird, trying to keep her balance. "We're between the mines, now; but you should be careful-"Jones sang, his voice cracking and hinging on the edge of madness. Sherlock took a step forward and leveled the gun at him but Dr. Jones made a show of stepping on something on the ground with a metallic click. Madeline gasped. Jones laughed and applied more pressure with his boot.
"Relax, they're only triggered by weight application and removal. It won't go off until I step off of it." He said. Sherlock growled and slowly lowered the gun as John and Henry stepped out beside him. Madeline shifted her weight towards the edge of the field but Dr. Jones cut his eyes to her menacingly.
"Don't even think about it." He snapped before turning back to Sherlock. The detective's eyes narrowed.
"So you and Jaquis Stapleton along with other scientists were trying to make super-hounds, but then turned to a hallucinogen after that failed." He speculated.
"Yeah, so?" Jones said with an aimless shrug. Sherlock flipped the gun back and forth in his hands indecisively, all the while glaring at Dr. Jones. John looked like he was restraining Henry from rushing into the field and decking Jones, and Sherlock looked like he was restraining himself from doing the same thing with the gun.
"You've as good as killed yourself." Sherlock snapped, Dr. Jones shrugged and smiled at the detective.
"It's fine, Barrymore was going to kick me out of the base soon, anyways."
"So you covered up Walter Knight's death and made sure that no one would believe his son." Sherlock stated. Jones nodded, smiling almost giddily.
"He worked on the team, but he was objected to the idea of using our stuff for military purposes. Why even join if you're not on board!" He shouted to the open sky. Madeline inched towards the edge of the field, but Jones snapped his eyes in her direction with a glare.
"Don't even think about it." He said, his voice now almost void of emotion.
"Sherlock, help." Madeline pleaded quietly. The detective held out his hand in a "calm down" motion.
"So you used the hallucinogen to make Henry's reputation unstable and his stories unbelievable. Whenever he visited the hollow something would trigger a dosage of the neuro-gas to distribute itself into the hollow and sedate him into a hysterical state again." Sherlock said. Jones smiled and nodded, and everything happened at once.
Sherlock raised the gun.
Madeline dove to the side.
Dr. Jones lifted his boot.
The gun went off.
Then everything went white in a flash of light and a clap of thunder.
A.N.- Well…. That happened. Um, I had expected to have this done sooner. Like a week sooner. Oh well.
Anyways, I started to watch Ghost Hunt, and I can tell you, this is one of the less hardcore anime. Seriously. Anyway… I posted a song fic-slash-one-shot challenge RomeoBlack123 (that stupid traitor) challenged me to do. It's a separate story because I didn't want to spam you guys with something and get hopes up that I'd had a new chapter done. (Haha, you'd all be so disappointed.) You can find it from my profile page, though.
And remember: Reviews make me work faster! Thanks!