Chapter 25

-The Cross Keys-

Sherlock was sitting in an armchair by the fire, staring blankly into space.

John sat down next to him. "So I found some morse code last night—the letter A." He paused. "Hey, you okay? You look kinda fucked up."

The detective fixed his hair in a mirror, then resumed quietly trembling in fear. "Look at me, John. I'm afraid. Afraid."

"That sure must suck!"

"I've always been able to keep myself distance, divorce myself from...feelings."

"What a terrible conundrum, having to feel things like the rest of us normal people," John said, being an asshole as usual.

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!" All the other people in the inn turned to stare at Sherlock. He turned and pointed at one of them. "AND YOUR JUMPER IS UGLY AS FUCK!"

"Sherlock, calm down!"

"You can't tell me what to do!" Sherlock's voice rose about ten octaves.

"Right, and why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend."

"I don't have any friends."

"Yeah, you're right. Ever wonder why?" John jumped up and started walking backwards. "BOOM! Get rekt!" Then he tripped over a table and hit his head. He yelled in anger and threw a chair at a civilian, then stormed out of the pub.

One of the bartenders leaned over to his boyfriend. "Kill me if that's ever us."

Meanwhile, John was storming out of the bar when he noticed more flashing lights over yonder. He walked up the hill, searching for the source.

"Aha!" He found a car that was rocking back and forth, the windows steamed up. Strange noises were coming from the inside. John walked over and knocked on the window. "Excuse me? What does UMQRA mean?" The car fell silent. "Hey, you wanna answer me? I'll break this damn window if I have to." The strange noises resumed in full force.

"I'm with the police…" John continued weakly before deciding it wasn't worth it.

On his way back down the hill, Sherlock called him.

"Henry's therapist is at the pub. You should interview her."

"You had me at sailboat," John replied.

"But I didn't...oh, I see," Sherlock said. He didn't see.

-Henry's House-

Henry was bored and trying to find something good to watch on TV. He turned it on and Teen Wolf popped up.

"Fuck that." He changed the channel. Air Bud started playing.

"No." He changed the channel. It was Marley and Me.

"STOP." He changed the channel. Wolf of Wall Street was playing.

Henry turned the TV off.

-Cross Keys-

John was being real casual with Henry's therapist, Louise.

"SOOOOooooooo you're a therapist, eh?" John asked. "I once had a therapist, after I came back from the war. But then I didn't need her anymore after I met an attractive scientist detective and killed a man."

"Oh. That's interesting." Louise inconspicuously searched for the nearest exit.

"So, how's Henry? How's he doing with his...therapy?"

"I can't tell you that. It's confidential," Louise told him.

Frankland, the evil scientist from before, pulled up a chair. "I'm here to ruin everything!"

"Perfect. Just perfect." John put his face in his hands.

Franco ignored him. "Yeah so John is gay for his flatmate and they're both detectives tryna get some info on your patient Henry!"

"You're both really weird." Louise left.

-The Moors, Daytime-

Sherlock was back on the pile of rocks. He formed two circles with his hands and put them over his eyes like binoculars. With his magnified vision, the detective could see a simple, humble farmer trying to pull his sheep out of the bog.

"Dinner." Sherlock took out a sniper rifle.

-Henry's House-

Sherlock barged in the door. "Morning, Harold! Holy shit, you look like crap."

Henrold was lying on the floor, thousands of crappy drawings surrounding him.

The detective picked one up. "What is this supposed to be?"

"Dog. They're everywhere, the dogs. Canines. Wolves. Pups. Hounds."

"Wake up, my man." Sherlock poured hot coffee on him.

"FUCK YOU!" Henry leaped to his feet and swung his fists wildly. He came to his senses after a minute. "Wait, why am I covered in third degree burns? Also, fuck you. You lied last night—we both totally saw the hound."

"Wait, why do you call it a hound?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's a dog, you pretentious fuck."

"I-I don't know. It's just the word tha—"

"Okay, I could be doing better things. Like John. So, bye!" Sherlock parkoured over the counter, breaking a cabinet with his feet, then walked around the counter and out the door.

-Later-

Sherlock found John outside the inn.

"Hey friend!" The detective said, walking up to him. John caught sight of him and immediately started walking away. "So, did you get anywhere with the morse code? UMQRA, was it?" Sherlock started to follow him.

"Nope. It was a dead end."

"Wait a second...UMQRA backwards is CAMERA! What if the dog is just a hologram?"

John stared at him. "Are you kidding?"

"Yeah, I thought I might break the ice a little," Sherlock said.

"Well, funny doesn't suit you. Let's just stick to ice."

"Fine." Sherlock pouted and slapped his entire body onto the nearest glacier.

The couple running the inn watched from the window. "Kill me if that's ever us."

"John-chan…" Sherlock said, cherry blossom petals falling around him. "What happened last night…"

"I got drunk after Louise left, okay?" John said. "What occurred between us...it was just as bros, right?"

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Sherlock asked.

All of the blood drained from John's face. "You mean that wasn't you in the men's bathroom?"

"No."

"Oh my god."

There was an awkward pause which lasted a year (still shorter than the hiatus between seasons lmaoooooo) before Sherlock had a eureka moment! "Hey, look at this!" He wrote down HOUND in his notebook, then scribbled something else. He held it up to John's face.

John had a blank, thousand yard stare but nodded anyways. It was a poorly drawn picture of a dog.

"This solves everything. The word HOUND means that—" Sherlock spotted someone near the entrance to the inn. "What the fucking fuck?"

John waved. "Hey, Greg! What are you doing here?"

Greglestrade turned his head in their general direction. "Hello. I'm here for a vacation."

"Cut the bullshit," Sherlock snapped as he and John walked over. "Why are you really here? Did Mycroft send you to spy on me?"

"No. I'm here on my own time, with my own money."

"But if Mycroft had paid you, you'd be spying on me right now, wouldn't you?"

Lestrode shrugged. "Yeah…"

"So then what is all this Greg business about?"

"You mean his name?" John raised his eyebrows.

"Pshh, right."

"Well, it was nice seeing you two with my eyes." Greg started to walk away. "I'm going to go—"

"Wait, actually we could use your help," John said.

Lestride weighed the pros and cons of either making a break for it or resigning himself to once again being Detective Inspector Captain King Lestrade. Or DICK Lestrade for short.

"Why would he be useful to us?" Sherlock asked.

-A Few Minutes Later-

Grestrade was interrogating the gay couple that ran the bar. Apparently John had found ten tons of meat in their fridge, which seemed pretty shady for a vegetarian restaurant. Also there was a dead man under the floorboards.

"Jeb was a nice guy who got in the wrong place in the wrong time," Tango, the first gay man said.

"Jeb didn't deserve what happened to him," said Tongo, the second gay man. "How were we supposed to know that alcohol is flammable?"

Grestro woke up. "Alcohol? Tell me more?"

Sherlock scooped some sugar into a cup of coffee and handed it to John. "Here, drink this."

John didn't like sugar, so he pretended to drink the coffee, the hot liquid running down his shirt. "Mmmm! Delicious!"

"So, you were the ones letting that giant dog loose, eh?" Lestrade asked.

"Yeah…" said Chungo. "But the thing was vicious. We had to put it down. It decapitated thirteen people in two days."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Must have been a huge dog, to have that kind of jaw strength."

"No, it used a chainsaw. So Scrungo had to take it to the vet and…"

"So the dog is dead now?" John asked.

"It actually killed the veterinarian and escaped. It was last seen driving a boat to Madagascar."

"Well…" Lestrade took a long sip from something in a paper bag. "You two are under arrest."

Bongo and Chongo cried, "No! It was just a prank!"

"Okay." Lestrade walked out of the building. A moment later, they heard the screeching of tires and a police car crashed into the building, killing Scrango and Snargo.

"RIP." Sherlock made a peace sign and they all left.

"Well, bye." Lestrade left the two of them, never to be seen again until the next episode.

John turned to Sherlock, subsequently missing Lestrade take off into the sky and zoom away. "So, the dog is gone now. But what did you see last night?"

Sherlock drifted into a thousand and one yard stare, since he had better than average eyesight. "It wasn't just a dog. It was a humongous hound, with a long neck and black-tipped ossicones and long legs and tawny fur with brown patches…"

"Sounds like a giraffe."

"Indeed…" He shuddered, then started walking toward the parking lot. "I have a theory, but we need to go back to Baskerville to test it."

I don't even know who Lestrade is anymore. But anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment letting me know what you think; it helps me out a lot!