Author's Note: Update, yay! Enjoy, and don't be afraid to send requests.
Chapter 14
"Is he going to get down?" Tilly whispered to John. Her uncle was standing atop a large rock overlooking the military base.
"I've no idea." John responded. His amused expression was close to giving way to laughter. Tilly smiled up at her uncle's ridiculous perch. She shot John a pleading look and he chuckled, nodding.
Tilly clapped her hands in glee and scrambled up beside her uncle. She adopted his pensive facial expression. John laughed at her mocking pose. Sherlock noticed John's laughter. He sensed Tilly at his side and grinned a bit. Tilly took his hand.
"Does this mean I can help you break into the top secret facility?" Tilly asked eagerly as they climbed down.
"No." Sherlock said, frowning slightly. Tilly sighed.
"But I even nicked Mycroft's badge for you." She whined. Sherlock appeared impressed. He took the badge from her and, upon seeing her browbeaten expression, patted her head.
"How did you learn to do that?" He asked her, but she just smiled mysteriously and skipped off to meet John. Sherlock paused in thought and Tilly rolled her eyes and ran back, dragging him by the hand towards the doctor.
They drove back to the inn to drop Tilly off. She still sulked in the backseat as John tried to pacify her. Having either Holmes throwing a fit was not high on his list of things to deal with today.
"You would worry your uncle and me, plus they won't let us in. We're just going to look around. You'll be more bored there than you would be at the inn." He attempted feebly. He knew that a military base was just what Tilly would enjoy, which was why she couldn't come. It was hard enough controlling Sherlock.
"Can I have a glowing rabbit, Uncle Sherlock?" Tilly asked when Sherlock and John had returned. She had crossed over to their room, noting that the bed had been mussed on both sides. She sat on the bed now, legs crossed, waiting intently for the story of exploring the lab.
"No, Tilly." John answered. He didn't even want to know what Sherlock might have said.
"Not fair. I bet Mrs. Hudson would allow pets. It would give me someone to talk to when you two are gone." She said this last bit quietly and John softened.
"Maybe we'll check when we get home." John compromised and Tilly brightened. Sherlock sighed and thought of his skull, then glanced toward John. Yes, John was much better, even if he didn't always agree like his skull did.
"Did you have any fun at all?" Sherlock asked her. Tilly gave a small smile and nodded.
"I found this." She passed Sherlock a receipt for a large amount of meat. He quirked an eyebrow at it. He noted, as Tilly had, that a vegetarian restaurant with this much meat was very odd indeed. Sherlock nodded, already working out scenarios in his mind.
"Be good while we're gone." He grabbed his scarf again and John copied him, reaching for his jacket.
"You're leaving?" Tilly questioned, hurt. They had returned not even an hour ago.
"Yes, we are going to see if we can't help Henry find his mysterious hound." Sherlock replied, now buttoning his coat. Tilly watched silently, already forming a plan.
"Be careful." She said, waving at them a bit sadly. John waved back and Sherlock nodded, mind wrapped in the case. They left the room and Tilly counted one minute, then two, before following.
It wasn't far to Henry Knight's manor from the inn, and from there it was even closer to the moor. She now crept behind the trio as they headed into the mist.
She kept track of the three figures, descending in height, as they strolled in front of her. As the sun set, she relied more and more on following their torch beams. Soon, one beam split away from the others. She could tell it was John and she panicked at having to pick one of her caretakers to follow. She reasoned that the army doctor could handle himself and continued after her uncle.
They delved deeper and deeper into the moorland. Fog encircled Tilly and she shivered. Waiting in the trees, she watched her uncle and the young man reach the bottom of the hollow. As she watched the torch beams bob in the darkness, she heard the rustling to her right.
Her blood went cold. Her small frame began to tremble, even as her mind fought to calm her. The rustle changed to a deep growl. It was harsh and menacing, like an aggressive rumble of thunder. She took a shuddering breath as she watched the torches move to point to the sound. In the light, she saw the burning red eyes.
They were almost directly across from her, positioned on the opposite part of the lip of the hollow. They blinked in the sudden light, then focused on her. The torchlights soon showed only greenery and the rustling began to make its way towards her.
She tried to run, but her legs locked and she merely fell, now all the more helpless. She heard the snarling coming closer, the frantic calls of John in the distance, and the cries of disbelief from Sherlock. Tilly cowered, curling in on herself as the beast approached.
It was the size of a small horse. Its fur appeared blacker than even the night itself. In the darkness, the eyes stood out the most. The space was taken up mostly by the red irises which seemed to grip her soul in a malice-infused vice.
She didn't think she could be any more terrified, until the beast opened its wide jaws and released a terrible bark.
"Papa!" She cried desperately, not realizing that he wasn't coming, that no one was. She felt blood flow again, and she scrambled backwards away from the beast. It crouched as if the pounce, and the last image before she blacked out was of the luminescent dagger fangs streaking towards her face.
"Matilda!" Sherlock answered the call, not believing anything his senses told him now. He had seen a monster that could not exist. Now he was hearing his niece as she cried for help. He whirled about, coat flowing and torch searching the landscape. It locked onto a staring contest between grey and red eyes, just before the grey eyes disappeared as a small figure tumbled into the hollow.
Sherlock scrambled to where Tilly had fallen, soon joined by Henry and John. The hound was nowhere to be seen.
"Is she alright?" Sherlock asked as John's medical training kicked in and he leaned over his new patient.
"Slight bump on the head. Pulse rapid, possible fainting spell. I don't think there's a concussion, but I won't know until we get to the inn." He muttered, glancing about the dark in disgust. Sherlock nodded and John carried the limp form in his arms. Sherlock escorted Henry to his home before running back to the inn to find John taking care of Tilly.
She lay stretched out on the bed, pale and unmoving. Her breath rattled from her chest and her hands would clench and unclench. These movements were the only indication of life in the girl.
Sherlock paced the room restlessly as John bent over Tilly. He waited for his niece to awaken, growing more and more worried with each passing moment. Finally, in frustration, he made a move for John's coat.
"You are not shooting holes in this wall." John said, not turning around. Sherlock huffed but ceased his reach for the gun.
"Shouldn't she have awoken by now?" Sherlock growled. John merely shook his head.
"It's common after a fright." He replied smoothly.
` "How could she have followed us?" Sherlock demanded. John figured this was a rhetorical question, but answered anyway.
"Despite your flaws, she seems to enjoy spending time with you, like I do." John said, placing a compress on Tilly's forehead. Sherlock stopped his pacing and looked at John.
"It's completely illogical for her to have followed me. She could've been killed." Sherlock blinked rapidly, the thought of not having the child around creating feelings of grief he found uncomfortable.
"I suppose she followed you for the same reason you went: a craving for excitement." John mused and before Sherlock could reply the child stirred.
Tilly's eyelids fluttered and she stretched on the bed. She sat up, the compress falling to the comforter. She glanced about the room, her eyes lighting on the two men. She let loose a relieved sigh. Without thinking, Sherlock reached down and hugged the tiny girl to his chest. She relaxed into the embrace. They stayed like that for a bit before the detective realized she had fallen asleep.
He chuckled a bit and carefully carried her to her own room. He tucked her in and placed her blanket beside her. (A comfort object since infancy, Sherlock had deduced) John waited and the two went to the common room to talk over the case thus far.