The Hounds of Silence

Silent Hollow

Heading towards the trees, they pulled out the torches they'd brought with them, knowing they'd be traversing the woods past the dying light of the day.

Rose let her head snap around at a sudden screeching, consoling herself with the thought that the horrific sound was probably a fox or some other normal creature and not a mutant dog. John, sensing her unease, shot her a reassuring look as they pushed through the tree line and into a deeper darkness, despite his own nerves creeping up on him.

With Henry leading the way to infamous moor, the three flat mates and friends followed him closely, though after only a few minutes, Rose looked around and realised that one of their number had already been lost.

Knowing Sherlock probably hadn't noticed, she spoke up. "Uh, Sherlock? You know we've lost John, right?"

"He'll catch up," her boss replied, not seeming to be overly concerned. John was a soldier after all; he knew how to take care of himself.

Rose was still a little worried for her friend, but figured Sherlock was right. "I suppose..."

"Met a friend of yours," Sherlock said, moving onto a different conversation aimed at their guide who was almost on auto-pilot as he led them further. "Doctor Frankland."

"Oh right, Bob, yeah." Henry acknowledged, though Rose noted exactly how Henry had referred to the man and it's indication that maybe Dr Frankland and Henry were closer than they were first made out to be by the older man.

"He seems pretty concerned about you." Rose added.

"Oh, he's a worrier, bless him." Henry replied casually. "He's been very kind to me since I came back."

"He knew your father." Sherlock threw in, trying to understand their relationship a little more.

Henry wasn't very forthcoming though. "Yeah."

"But he works at Baskerville." Sherlock pushed, not giving up. "Didn't your dad have a problem with that?"

"Well, mates are mates, aren't they?" Henry responded looking round at the consulting detective. "I mean, look at you and John."

This made the taller man frown though, distracted from his initial line of thought. "What about us?"

"Well, I mean he's a pretty straight forward bloke and you... um, well..." Henry stumbled over his words then, not quite sure how to go on.

"Can be a bit of a sod." Rose supplied with a smirk, shooting Henry a wink as the man in question glared at her. She knew he wasn't offended though.

Henry suppressed a little smile as he wondered where between the two men the young woman fell. He got the impression she was rather down to earth and straight to the point – like John – but also attentive and calculating – like Sherlock. She seemed to be the calm middle ground between the two men, encouraging them both to be true to themselves while ensuring they don't kill each other because of it.

Moving on, he explained to them. "They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad." He explained before turning to stop at a slight drop in the landscape, tone becoming more serious once more. "Dewer's Hollow."

Rose looked over the dip in the ground seeing it was a lot deeper than she'd first realised. It gave her a chill as she took in the smattering of green that wove itself around the darker browns of dead leaves and plants fallen to the ground, a thick thee branch having fallen into the crevice of the forest as moss and ivy crept along its slowly decaying surface. A gentle mist had crept in from the far side and through it, the young woman could just about make out a path that wove into the distance between the rock walls.

Despite always having loved the way nature grew in such places, Rose could completely understand how this forgotten hollow could plague Henry's nightmares; it truly was haunting.

Sherlock gently pushing past her knocked her out of her musings as he made his way into the depths of the hollow, Henry giving her a gentle and somewhat understanding tap on the shoulder as her passed her. Following the men carefully, she joined them in the chilling pit; vaguely hoping John would catch up to them soon as she heard more sounds in the dark night call out in the distance.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she saw Sherlock had crouched down to look at something and she soon saw what he was looking at; a particularly large paw-print that was embedded in the ground. Eyes wide as she took it in – and wondered how big the beast who made the mark could be – her attention snapped around as she looked around quickly, only just having realised what the sound a moment ago was.

Howling – and it was getting closer.

"Sherlock." She called, hoping he had heard it to.

He had, and was now looking around for the source as well. "I know." He said quietly, trying to calm his increasingly erratic mind as he threw his torchlight in every direction, searching for it.

At that moment, a sharp howl cut through the air, all three of them snapping up to see the source as it ran through the underbrush above them, barley more than a shadow as their torches failed to shed further light on exactly what it was that they had seen.

An impossibly long second passed before Rose took a calming breath, her thoughts kicking into gear again – having blanked at the sight of whatever had found them – but her racing thoughts were soon distracted by Henry who was now panicking and giddy at the same time.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..." He kept repeating before taking a breath as Rose had done, spinning round to them with terror and hope in his eyes. "Did you see it?!"

Rose turned to Sherlock, looking for an indication of how they were supposed to handle this but saw his wide eyes, gaping mouth and the shake in his head as he himself tried to make sense of what they saw. Knowing he wasn't going to answer and that it was probably best to get out of there first of all, she approached him, making sure to make noise with every foot fall. Putting a hand on his shoulder – which snapped his attention to her – she told him, "Let's find John."

Getting only a shaky nod from the older man, she called to Henry and the three of them climbed out of the hollow, making their way back along the path they had come, the only sound – other than their steps – being Henry who was muttering to himself quietly as they walked quickly.

Seeing a figure round a tree, three flashlights instantly zeroed in on John as he blinked in the sudden light before Sherlock continued on, pushing past the doctor as they continued on their way.

Henry had other ideas though. "We saw it! We saw it!"

"No." Sherlock cut across him. "We didn't see anything."

John looked between the other men before settling on Rose who was visibly paler and quieter than usual. Giving the doctor a look, he clearly saw that they saw something, but weren't too sure what it was.

Henry was aghast though, staring at Sherlock's retreating figure. "What?! What are you talking about?!"

"I didn't see anything!" he retorted firmly before pushing forward.

John looked between the three of them truly concerned for what had happened while he had wondered off. Looking to Rose for an indication on what was going on, he saw the young woman was genuinely troubled, but covering well; if he didn't know her so well, he would have thought she was perfectly fine, if maybe a little cold for standing in the woods.

Rose took another breath - wishing it was saturated with nicotine – to steady herself. "Let's just head back for now and try to calm down. We can go over it all when we're not in the middle of the woods in the pitch black, eh?" She suggested, following after Sherlock and shooting Henry another comforting smile as she passed him.

"Yeah...Yeah..." Henry agreed, following after her, still wired beyond belief and looking around him as though waiting for the hound to take them out at any minute.

As they reached civilisation again – Sherlock having stalked off without waiting for them – Rose caught up to John and gave him a meaningful look, indicating in Henry's direction.

Getting her drift, John looked over to the troubled man. "Hey, Henry? Why don't I see you back to yours? Make sure you get home safe and get you settled?"

Henry only nodded and headed towards his home as Rose gave John one final smile and a wave before heading to her room, thoughts on a long hot shower to chase away the chill of the woods, despite not actually being as cold as she'd first thought she would be.

Stripping off the day's clothes and stepping under the hot stream of water, Rose's thoughts circled her mind more than the water circled the drain. What was it they really saw; a genetically bred mutant hound, bloodthirsty and wild... or just a stray dog? Or not a dog at all, maybe a large fox or a particularly chunky deer? No, that's insane, she thought as she tried to wash away her stress. Though no more insane than a monster mutt, she countered, arguing with herself.

Sighing, she turned the temperature up even hotter and let her muscles relax under the heat, trying to put her concerns aside for now.

Focusing on each muscle individually, starting at her neck, the young woman concentrated on only feeling the tension drain from her, as though each and every troubled thought were merely grime on her skin, caught in the heat of the water, washing away down the drain to leave her clean in body and mind.

Heaving a deep sigh, the young woman reluctantly turned off the water, wrapping a large fluffy towel around her as she stepped out of the steamy room, she went in search of some comfy evening clothes, knowing she should check in with her flat mates and – by the rumble of her stomach – find some dinner while she still had the chance to eat. If there's one thing she had learned quickly working with Sherlock, it was that in the madman never stopped for long and if she wanted to eat at all, she had to find the time herself.

Making her way down to the restaurant area, she was about to go in when she saw John leaving, an unfortunately familiar look darkening his features; he was angry about something. He stopped as she called out to him though, face softening slightly.

"You okay?" She asked as she approached the usually calm doctor.

John just let out a heavy sigh as his nostrils flared and his eyebrows shot up into his scowl. "Honestly, I seriously wonder how you work with him sometimes."

Ah, she thought, knowing exactly what - or rather who - had him so annoyed. "What's he done now?"

John met her eyes for a split second before looking away, spiting the words out in a near venomous impression of his other flat mate. "He doesn't need friends." Getting an understanding look from Rose, the good doctor instantly felt bad for taking his frustrations out of her. Heaving another sigh, he ran his hand through his hair. "He, uh... he actually seems pretty scared..."

"Sherlock?" Rose questioned, not quite believing it. "Scared...?!"

John just nodded. "Yeah, but word to the wise." he warned. "He's snappy as all holy hell, so... be careful."

"Thanks for the warning." She replied, knowing Sherlock wouldn't really hurt her but the older man's blurry boundaries were practically non-existent when he was like this and if she could avoid him, she would. "I'm just going to grab a bite to eat and turn in for the night in that case."

"Good idea," he nodded. "I'm going to go for a walk."

Waving at her troubled friend, Rose hoped – for the hundredth time – that Sherlock hadn't pushed him too far.