Prompt from ThatSassyCaptain: Lots of people have tried to kill Holmes (Doyle included). Today's prompt is attempted murder!

Moor Revenge

Huddled in a moorland parlour;

Crisp clear sky, and snow on ground.

Steaming mugs of cream-topped coffee;

Warmth for hands to wrap around.

Heading out for festive visit;

Baskerville, three days with friends.

Previous visit, quite traumatic;

Sir Henry's keen to make amends.

Coach is due in half an hour,

Caught the Devon train last night;

Holmes stands up, surveys the vista;

Tors stand out in morning light.

Something in a cottage window

Gleams and shifts, to catch his eye;

Holmes dives down, protecting Watson;

Coffee cups and bullets fly...

~0~

Gunfire roars, then all is silent.

Shaken, Holmes looks round in dread;

Serving girl appears uninjured;

Watson too; he lifts his head.

Staying low, aware of danger;

Holmes peers out through shattered pane;

Sees a figure leave the cottage,

Head across the wild terrain.

Holmes sets out across the moorland.

Watson sighs and follows suit.

Who on earth would wish to kill them?

A wild and hazardous pursuit.

Wind blown grasses, rocks and heather;

Holmes and Watson pick their way;

Mindful of the mires and marshlands

Stapleton's grim fate that day.

~0~

The weather tests their winter clothing;

Cold seeps in through layers of wool;

Snow and ice make heavy going

Limbs grow weary, senses dull.

Still they track the fleeing figure,

See it stumble, rise and fall.

Thoughts return to mournful howling,

And the bittern's plaintive call.

Ground is gained, with every footstep;

Inch by inch they're closing in

Prey has slowed, has faltered, limping;

Turns and fires, a dreadful din.

Holmes and Watson, both are ready;

Flatten down as shots ring out.

Watson crawls to circle slowly;

Holmes distracts their foe, a shout.

~0~

Call returned, to Holmes' amazement;

Clear and high, a female voice.

Heard in splendid West End chambers;

Wonders at her desperate choice.

Recalls her cold and perfect beauty;

Those discarded in her wake

What disaster had befallen,

Led to such a step to take?

He sees her now, her altered profile;

Ravaged features once so fine.

Hate and rage and fallen fortunes

Twisted Isadora Klein.

She raves about the whispered rumours

Following her lover's death.

A blocked engagement, fortunes frittered;

Cursing Holmes with every breath.

~0~

Shunned by those she once had courted,

Catastrophic fall from grace.

Bitter disappointment read in

Every line upon her face.

Pistol raised, as Holmes stands silent;

Blamed for every turn of fate;

Hopes to keep her full attention

Sees her frown and hesitate.

Sees her scan the moor for Watson;

Double murder clearly planned.

A figure rises up, disarms her;

Watson has things well in hand..

A sombre party leaves the moorland;

Isadora firmly bound

Leaving windswept moor, and whispered

Echoes of a giant hound.

~0~

Coach is waiting, young Sir Henry

Greets both men impatiently;

Puzzled as to who their new and

Clearly angry friend might be.

Telegram dispatched to London,

Policeman notified as well;

Isadora's life in ruins,

Bundled off to prison cell.

Uneventful final journey

Baskerville at last in sight;

Granite walls seems less forbidding

Warmed by rays of winter light.

Warm and life enhancing welcome

Lies behind the large oak door.

Good friends, good food and conversation;

Who could really ask for moor?

~0~

A/N: Villainess is from "The Adventure of the Three Gables."