judygrasham. Hmm, for some reason your review is not showing up. I'm not entirely sure what you mean with 'what happened after Sherlock ran John off'. If you mean from Sherlock's point of view... well... you are about to find out *evil smirk*. Also, I'm not sure what you mean with something 'off' about the therapist. Meaning, if I didn't notice, it's unlikely that Kyrie did. If you can explain what you mean, I can maybe edit the chapter a bit. Thank you for pointing out my mistake, btw. Really appreciate it! Should be changed by now. And of course, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

SplittingImage4 Haha, thank you for your awesome review! I'm glad to read my updates make you feel giddy. I feel giddy whenever I get a new review, so... win win :) This chapter is a bit less full of 'original' content, so... I hope the start of this chapter makes up for that *wink wink* Enjoy this new chapter!

Sherlock was curled up on his side and he knew one thing for sure. He'd been high as a kite. Whatever had happened in the woods had absolutely nothing to do with some hellish super-dog. He had been drugged. But how? Why? When? He didn't know.

His head still felt like a giant jumbled mess. Something he absolutely detested. The drugs he usually took always helped his focus, enhanced his intellect.

Yes, he'd been able to do a quick deduction about the widowed mother and her fisherman son, but that was about it. He'd felt absolutely paralysed by some of the effects of… whatever he'd been drugged with.

The absolute worst had been the fear and the doubt. He'd always been able to rely on his senses, until tonight, and it had been utterly terrifying. That loss of control, not just over his body but his mind as well, he never wanted to experience that kind of helplessness again. No matter how high he was on drugs, he'd always retained a sense of control.

Whatever this had been, it had the ability to completely mess with one's head. It brought one's deepest fears to life… and most hidden desires. He tossed and turned in the bed. Still restless, still feeling some after-effects of the drug. His control still just out of reach. He should just try and sleep. Tomorrow he'd be better again. He'd be in total control. No scary visions and his body would no longer betray him. As it had done earlier. As it was doing now.

He turned on his other side and breathed in a steadying breath. The moment the soft dying notes of a floral scent hit his nose and he felt her breath tickling against his skin, he realised his mistake. He groaned softly. Really, he should just try and go to sleep… Should.

He didn't need to open his eyes to know he was face to face with Kyrie. Their noses almost touching. He noticed his heart started beating just a bit faster. If he were to look into a mirror he knew he'd find his pupils to be blown wide open. "Emotions are the grit on the lens," he whispered and tried to convey his usual disdain. "The fly in the ointment."

His eyes were still closed, but his body was far from relaxed. He knew it was time to turn around. Tomorrow he would be himself again. The only turning his body decided to do however, was a slight turn of his head, so his lips brushed against Kyrie's. His body then betrayed him even more when his lips drew in her lower lip. He parted his lips, releasing hers, only to gently suck it back in again. His arm snaked around her, pulling her closer as his fingers started threading through her hair.

His lips searched for hers again and he sighed feeling her lips part under the soft pressure of his kiss. He responded by delving his tongue in her mouth, drawing her in, inviting her tongue to play with his as he drove his tongue into her mouth, filling it, then withdrawing again.

With a silent moan of surrender, Kyrie turned her face fully toward him and returned his kiss, her body pliant beneath him. Until she suddenly stilled. Apparently he had half rolled on top of her during their heated kiss, and when he opened his eyes he found her staring up at him.

Though it was very dark in the room, the small beam of moonlight that fell in through the window, ensured him that her eyes had never been more violet as that moment.

"Sherlock?" she asked sounding sleepy, aroused and surprised at the same time, "What are you doing?"

"Kissing my wife," he stated plainly and moved in to capture her lips with his again, but she stopped him by planting her hand against his chest.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this, a lot," she whispered with a voice that betrayed her as much as his own body did. "But it's not going to happen. I know you and this isn't you. You'd regret it in the morning and you'd resent me if I let you. Go to sleep, Sherlock. Please."

He flopped back on the mattress and covered his face with his hands. She was right. He knew she was right. He didn't like it very a much at the moment though and also he didn't like the fact that he didn't like it.

It took a long time, but at some point he finally, thankfully, did fall asleep.

The next morning, Kyrie awoke with a start. She bolted up and her eyes wildly darted to the space next to her, which was blissfully unoccupied. Kyrie pressed her hand against her chest, willing her heart to beat at a steadier pace. She took a deep breath and then told herself that everything was fine. Sherlock had not been himself last night. It had been a nice sensation to slowly wake up to him kissing her, but it hadn't meant anything. She knew that kiss had never been his intention. Best thing to do was to forget it even happened. Knowing Sherlock he'd want to forget it had happened as well.

She didn't take long to get dressed, to get ready for the day. She put on a long off the shoulder blouse, with an elegant floral pattern in soft pink and grey colours, and under that a simple pair of grey pants. After a quick breakfast she wandered outside in search for John. After the previous evening, she wanted to know if he was okay. Kyrie took out her phone and sent him a text.

– Where you at? K

It didn't take long before she got a reply.

- Churchyard

- Lovely

- Yes

She smirked and quickly strolled through the streets to meet up with John. She found him sitting on the roughly hewn stones of a memorial and sat down next to him.

"Morning, John," she said with a smile. John briefly looked up from his notebook to say good morning as well. Immediately his eyes snapped back to hers, a look of utter surprise on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, before shaking his head.

"John? Tell me, John!" she ordered him.

"Nope, not falling for that again. I could tell you but then you'd only get testy with me again. I'm only prepared to lose one friend so… not saying."

"Come on, don't be like this. You know you didn't lose a friend."

"No, you're right, apparently he never was my friend anyway... Have you looked in the mirror this morning?"

"You know what he can be like. Of course he's your friend. You're the only one who can put up with him. And yes, I did look into the mirror this morning. Why?"

"Have you seen your eyes?" John asked, ignoring the rest of her remark.

"Not the eyes thing again? What now? Are they too blue again? Too green? Or maybe during my walk over here they turned brown?"

"No, they are very, very violet this morning."

"Well, at least that should make Sherlock happy. Maybe now he will stop complaining about my eyes being too blue."

"It's good to see them violet again," John said softly.

Kyrie was about to ask why her eye colour seemed so important for both men when the creaking noise of the wrought iron gate drew her attention. It was Sherlock and he was walking right up to them. His hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat and he had a mildly uncomfortable look on his face. John briefly looked up from his notebook, but otherwise ignored Sherlock's presence. He went straight back to studying the contents of his notebook.

"Did you get anywhere with that Morse code?" Sherlock asked, his voice devoid of sarcasm or any hard edge. He was trying to make amends.

"Nah," John said who stood up and started to walk away. John did not seem to be in a forgiving mood this morning. Kyrie followed quickly because she knew Sherlock would immediately stick to John like glue.

"U, M, Q, R, A, wasn't it?" Sherlock did not want to give up. "Umqra."

"Nothing," John said as Sherlock repeated the letters 'UMQ…' Probably searching his 'Mind Palace' for a possible meaning.

"Look, forget it," John cut him off while marching down the road, "I thought I was on to something, I wasn't."

"Sure?" Sherlock asked.

"John, Sherlock, please slow down a bit. I can eat your dust, it's not pleasant," Kyrie complained. Sherlock immediately stopped so she could catch up, John still looked angry with Sherlock and walked a few more paces before he too stopped heaving a big sigh.

"Yeah," he finally said.

"How about Louise Mortimer, did you get anywhere with her?" Sherlock asked.

"No," John said and he started walking again, though at a steadier pace.

"Too bad, but did you get any information?" Sherlock deadpanned.

"Hmm," John snorted with humourless chuckle, "You being funny now?"

"Thought it might break the ice, a bit," Sherlock said. The solemn look on his face told Kyrie that Sherlock was acutely aware of his actions the evening before, and he regretted them deeply.

"Funny doesn't suit you," John said dismissively, "Let's stick to the ice."

"John…" Sherlock started, but John still didn't seem interested in listening to whatever he had to say.

"It's fine," he just said, thought his voice betrayed an emotion that suggested he was anything but fine with it.

"Look, wait, what happened last night, something happened to me. Something I've not really experienced before…"

"Yes, you said," John said impatiently, "Fear, Sherlock Holmes got scared, you said."

John just kept on walking. "No, no, no," Sherlock said and he grabbed John's arm, trying to get him to listen, to really listen and give him a chance. "It was more than that, John. Last night I really wasn't myself. Kyrie can vouch for that."

John raised his brows at her.

"It's true, John. I won't go into details but… he's right."

"Then what was it?" he asked.

"It was doubt… for one. I felt doubt. I've always been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night." Sherlock was getting a bit agitated again, just thinking back to it seemed to get him all riled up again.

"You can't actually believe that you saw some kind of monster?" John asked incredulously.

"No, I can't believe that," Sherlock agreed and a mild glint of 'The Game' madness returned to his eyes, "But I did see it, so the question is, how? How?"

"Yes," John said, giving Sherlock a bit of a weird look. To be honest, if this was Sherlock's idea of an apology, it was kind of rubbish.

"Yeah, right. Good. So, you've got something to go on then. Good luck with that."

John started to walk away again and this time Sherlock stayed where he was, and Kyrie felt torn. She gently nudged Sherlock in the side. He had to make things right. He had to learn it was not okay to say stuff like that and not at least try to make amends. Their eyes locked for a moment and Kyrie quietly nodded in John's direction. A quick smile tugged at Sherlock's lips before he turned his head to get John's attention.

"Listen, what I said before, John… I meant it. I don't have friends... I've just got one," he finally admitted.

Now that finally got John's attention. "One friend?" John asked, "And who exactly might that be? 'Cause I see two people here with you, Sherlock. Two. Not one."

Sherlock looked at him in surprise. "You mean Kyrie? She's not my friend!"

John immediately turned around again to walk away and Kyrie couldn't help but feel a bit slighted. Somewhere deep inside she knew he didn't mean it that way and he would soon explain his words. She hoped.

"She's my wife, John! Entirely different thing!"

And there it was. Still, bit of a rubbish explanation since she was not really his wife. Not… really.

"Right," John said before he turned around again to walk away.

"John…" Sherlock called after him, but he kept walking. Suddenly an idea seemed to have struck Sherlock. "John, you are amazing! You are fantastic!" he cried out and suddenly trotted after John.

"Yes, all right, you don't have to overdo it," John said.

"You may not be the most luminous of people," Sherlock said as he moved himself in front of John to be able to look at him, "But as a conductor of light, you are unbeatable," he turned around again, grabbed his own notebook from the pocket of his coat and took over John's lead.

"Cheers! What?"

Kyrie smirked.

"Some people who aren't geniuses have an amazing ability to stimulate it in others," Sherlock explained while scribbling something in the notebook.

"Hang on, you were saying sorry a minute ago," John complained, "Don't spoil it!"

"Ah, John!" Kyrie said with a smirk, "If anyone else had said it, I agree it would have been an insult. Coming from his mouth however," she nodded in Sherlock's direction, "I think it was actually meant as a compliment."

"Fine, what have I done that's so bloody stimulating?" he asked. Sherlock turned around and showed him the word HOUND scribbled in the notebook.

"It says hound… what about it?"

"What if it's not a word? What if it's individual letters?" Sherlock asked as he placed dots between the letters of the word and then showed them the result, H.O.U.N.D.

"You think it's an acronym?" John asked.

"Absolutely no idea," Sherlock confessed, "But…"

They hadn't noticed they had ended up right in front of the open door to the pub, but something, or rather someone, had caught Sherlock's attention.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock erupted suddenly. That someone turned out to be none other than DI Greg Lestrade, standing casually near the front desk. He was leisurely dressed in a pair of grey slacks, matching lightweight coat, black shirt and a pair of sunglasses was shielding his eyes.

"Well, nice to see you too," Greg commented dryly. He didn't look at all impressed by the sudden outburst. I'm on holiday, would you believe?"

"No, I wouldn't," Sherlock immediately replied.

Lestrade smiled upon seeing John and Kyrie enter the pub as well. He plucked the sunglasses from his face and greeted them with an easy smile.

"Hello, John… Mrs Holmes."

"Oh, so him you call John but I get a 'Mrs Holmes', Greg? And we even sang a duet!" Kyrie scoffed, but she smiled to let him know she was happy to see him.

"Hello, Greg," John said with a chuckle.

"Sorry… Kyrie…" Greg amended with a grin.

"Better!" she told him.

"Oh wonderful, everyone is saying 'hello' and establishing first name basis," Sherlock said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "What you are doing here!"

"I heard you were in the area," Greg said lightly, "What are you up to? Are you after this Hound of Hell? Like on the telly?" he asked while pocketing his sunglasses.

"I'm still waiting for an explanation, Inspector," Sherlock said impatiently, "Why are you here?"

"I've told you, I'm on a holiday…"

"You are brown as a nut!" Sherlock interjected, "You're clearly just back from your holidays." Sherlock put a clear emphasis on the plural form of holiday.

"I fancied another one," Greg commented dryly. Kyrie couldn't help but grin at him. She liked the guy, he had a great sense of humour!

"Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?" Sherlock said full of disdain.

"Now look," Greg said while accepting the pint of beer that was offered to him, but Sherlock cut him off again.

"One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to… to spy on me, incognito," Sherlock chuckled in a mocking manner, "Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?"

Kyrie couldn't repress a snort of laughter. John looked at Sherlock in disbelief. "That's his name!" he cried out.

"Is it?" Sherlock asked in surprise.

"Yes," Greg replied a bit testily, "If you'd ever bothered to find out… Look, I'm not your handler. And I don't just do what your brother tells me," Greg took a sip of his beer. "But, he did have a request for me. Turns out, your brother wasn't too happy when a certain Mrs Holmes here was left to her own devices while you boys were off… whatever you were doing. Sorry, 'Kyrie'," he corrected himself.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what's going on, but according to Mycroft there is someone with an unhealthy interest in her. He asked me to keep an eye out in case you guys go off… gallivanting again."

"We don't gallivant!" Sherlock clearly took offence. "And Mycroft can bloody well mind his own damn business."

"Don't look at me," Greg told him, raising his hands in defence, "I didn't mind extending my vacation for a few more days."

"Actually," John cut in, "You could be just the man we want."

"Why?" Sherlock demanded, he did not like not being in the loop.

"Well, I've not been idle, Sherlock," John started to rummage around in his pockets, "I think I might have found something…Here." He folded a piece of paper open and showed it to Sherlock. "I didn't know if it was relevant. Starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant."

"Excellent," Sherlock muttered, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

"A nice, scary inspector from Scotland Yard, who can put in a few calls…. Might come in very handy," John said with a smug look on his face as he punched the desk bell with the palm of his hand, "Shop!'

Not long after that, Greg was carefully going through all the paperwork and administration. Greg was seated at a large wooden table in a nice secluded little area, a bit off to side of the bar. Gary and Billy had joined him and couldn't keep themselves from shooting nervous glances at each other and Greg.

Sherlock noisily stirred the contents of a cup of coffee with a spoon. It caught Kyrie's attention. Actually, the way he set his jaw, was what caught her attention. What the devil was he up to? He loudly tapped the spoon against the side of the mug in a quick staccato and carried the cup of coffee over to John who was leaning against the wall near the doorway.

"What's this?" John asked in surprise. "Coffee. I made coffee," Sherlock said quietly as if him bringing someone else coffee was the most usual and normal thing in the world. Kyrie immediately squinted her eyes at him. John stared at Sherlock as if he'd just sprouted two heads. "You never make coffee," he remarked.

"I just did. Don't you want it?"

"You don't have to keep apologising," John said. Sherlock looked away, a brief look of hurt briefly crossing his face. It made John change his mind and with a soft thanks he accepted the coffee.

Sherlock smiled, showing relief that John had accepted his token of amends. Sherlock Holmes never made anything for anyone. At Baker Street, Sherlock basically just waited around until he was served.

When John took a sip of the coffee, Sherlock looked on with a bit too much of interest. Suddenly John frowned, "Hmm, I don't take sugar," he said in disgust. Something Sherlock knew very well. Again, Sherlock looked away with that theatrical look of hurt on his face. He was faking it!

John, with that big heart of his, gulped down the coffee away even though his face betrayed how much he detested the sweet sugary taste.

"These records go back nearly two months," Greg asked Billy and Gary. John finished his coffee with a brave face and told Sherlock the coffee was nice, good. He was lying through his teeth. The look in Sherlock's eyes as he kept his gaze on John for a moment, unnerved Kyrie. She had no idea what was going on, but something was… going on.

"Is that when you had the idea?" Greg asked, "After the TV show went out?"

"It's me," Billy immediately confessed. "It was me. I'm sorry, Gary, I couldn't help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Cal's wedding. " Sherlock smirked hearing Billy's explanation. "And one thing led to another."

"Nice try," Greg commended.

"Look," Gary cut in, "We were just trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know? Let a great big dog run wild up on the moor, it was heaven sent. It was like having our own Loch Nech Monster."

"And where do you keep it?" Greg asked.

"There's an old mine shaft. It's not too far. He was all right there," Gary defended his actions.

"Was?" Sherlock asked.

Gary sighed heavily and shook his head, "We couldn't control the bloody thing. It was vicious," he snarled. He took another deep breath to calm himself. "And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and err, you know…"

John walked over to them, "It's dead?" he asked, looking from one to the other. Gary nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Put down," he clarified further, in case the nod wasn't clear enough.

"Yeah," Billy agreed, "No choice. So, it's over." Something about the way he said those words, or looked when he said those words… it felt very insincere to Kyrie.

"It was just a joke. You know?" Gary tried to garner some sympathy for the entire situation.

"Yeah, hilarious," Greg said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He pushed himself upright and stepped away from the chair. "You've nearly driven a man out of his mind." Greg marched away in obvious disgust.

John followed Greg and Kyrie went after him, throwing a look over her shoulder when Sherlock seemed to linger behind. She caught him checking John's coffee mug.

"What are you doing?" Kyrie asked suspiciously.

"Just checking to see if John really did like his coffee or if he was lying," he replied innocently.

"Sure you were!" she scoffed and then walked away to catch up with the others.

"You know he's actually pleased you're here?" John quietly said to Greg, "Secretly pleased," he amended.

"Is he?" Greg didn't sound too convinced, "That's nice."

Kyrie followed John and Greg outside. "I suppose he likes having all the same faces together," he said with a smirk. "Appeals to his… His…" He couldn't find the right word. At that moment footsteps came closer and Sherlock appeared outside as well.

"Asperger's?" John suggested. The look that briefly crossed Sherlock's face made Kyrie think he'd overheard that last comment. To be fair, John could very well have a point. Sherlock definitely possessed certain character traits that could be described as classical Asperger signs. Kyrie shook her head. It didn't matter. Sherlock was just… Sherlock.

"So, you believe them about having the dog destroyed?" Greg directed his question at Sherlock.

"No reason not to."

"Well, hopefully there's no harm done," Greg said, "I'm not quite sure what I'd charge them with, anyway. I'll have a word with the local force. So, you guys done here? If you've got some gallivanting on your mind, please let me know. Your brother and all that."

"No gallivanting on our minds, I assure you," Sherlock said with a fake smile.

"All right, that's that then. Catch you later," Greg started to walk away but turned around one last time. "I'm enjoying this," he said with a smile, "It's nice to get London out of your lungs." He nodded at them in a last greeting and walked off.

"So, that was their dog that people saw out on the moor?" John asked Sherlock.

"Looks like it."

John shook his head. "But that wasn't what you saw, that wasn't an ordinary dog."

"No," Sherlock said gravely, "It was immense. It had burning red eyes, and it was glowing, John. Its whole body was glowing," he repeated as though he were lost in the memory. He suddenly shook his head as if to clear it from the image and then started to walk away.

"I've got a theory, but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it," Sherlock explained.

Kyrie stopped dead in her tracks. "Sherlock, you just told Lestrade… no gallivanting!"

"We're not gallivanting, Kyrie!" he said chagrined, "Besides, you're coming with us. Lestrade was only a precaution, since you are coming along, that point is moot."

Kyrie shot him a dark look. She knew perfectly well he was dragging her along just to annoy his brother, instead of being concerned for her well fare.

"How do you want to get inside?" John asked, "Can't pull off the ID trick again."

"Might not have to," Sherlock said as he started to make a call. "Hello, brother dear. How are you?" Kyrie raised her brows in surprise. Wow, that insincere drawl must run in the family!

A heated discussion followed between Sherlock and his brother as they walked back to the car. Sherlock rolled his eyes a lot during the conversation. There were also many annoyed sighs and dark glares. "Are those your final terms?" he asked in the end. "Fine!"

"And?" John asked.

"We've got 24 hours," Sherlock stated grimly before he drove them off to Baskerville.