Chapter Four: Rumbling Ride

John settled back, preparing himself for the two-hour train ride. Arguably, he could have brought his research with him, but he knew that once they arrived at their destination, he would have to focus completely on the case. He also didn't want to risk losing one of George's books. Besides, he should probably use this time to go over what he and Sherlock knew about the case, form a plan of action.

Sherlock was already delving into his Mind Palace beside the window. The window seat separated him from other people as much as possible. Lowered the intake of data that he felt the compulsion to absorb.

Quite frankly, the longer John lived with Sherlock, the more he suspected the detective to have a mild form of Asperger's instead of being a high-functioning sociopath. Admittedly, the latter could more properly intimidate people than the former. And while sharing his medical opinion to Anderson and Donovan could potentially stop all their conspiracy theories of Sherlock turning on them, he feared it would lead to cruel jokes.

John pulled himself from his straying thoughts and opened his notebook. He was just starting to enter his own detective zone when a dog's sharp barks and a woman's calls behind them interrupted.

"Whisky! What are you doing in that corner? Whisky!"

John sighed, looking back, just to satisfy his curiosity, just as he picked up a weak form of Darkness. He stood and followed the barks to the back of the train car. There, just behind the last row of seats, he found a white, long-haired terrier facing off a yellow-eyed, twitching, black heartless. "Whisky," he said sharply, getting the dog's attention. "I got this. Go back to your human."

The dog tilted its head before retreating back.

John eyed the nervous creature. The first sighting in months. It was weak. Obviously not been doing so well. "Let's put you out of your misery," he said.

The creature seemed to nod a little, as though recognizing this was a lost fight. The little beast had already been weak before the dog started tormenting it.

John didn't pull out his keyblade. That would have been overkill on the miserable lump of Darkness. He summoned a bit of fire magic in his hand and painlessly ended the Heartless's existence. He smiled as he caught the remnants of peace and relief. He suspected that soon, another person, whether on this world or another world would be restored.

He returned to his seat, getting ready to read his notes again.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked.

"A dog was getting after a Shadow Heartless," John answered.

"Quite possibly the last Heartless on this world," Sherlock noted.

"Possibly," John said. "We can certainly pray and hope." He made a quick note to tell Greg and Mycroft about the incident. Then he turned to the case.

"Do we have anything else to go on besides footprints and whatever it was that captured your interest?" John asked.

"I told you, it had nothing to do with the footprints," Sherlock said in a bored tone.

"What then?" John asked. "I am trying to figure out just what it was that so suddenly caught your interest."

"You write detailed enough notes, surely you picked it up," Sherlock said.

John sighed, wishing it was just a few minutes until noon instead of an hour and a half. He appreciated Sherlock's confidence in him and his intellectual abilities, he truly did. But there were moments like these, that John wished that his friend would actually spell things out for him. Point out what exactly it was that was so important. Instead, Sherlock would just let him flounder about, believing that what he observed was so obvious.

"Honestly, John, you should have picked it up, even subconsciously," Sherlock said. "You managed to pick up on the father-son relationship between a teen boy and a formerly cartoon mouse."

"Riku and Mickey were different," John countered. "I saw them interact with each other over the course of a few hours. We'd be lucky if we saw Henry for forty-five minutes."

"It's what he said that caught my attention," Sherlock said.

John blinked. He hurriedly flipped through his notebook. He was disappointed that he hadn't written what Henry had said the very moment Sherlock's interest was caught. But . . . he could still recall his words. "'Mr. Holmes,'" he murmured, quoting as he jotted it down, "'they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.'" For a moment it seemed that there was nothing out of the ordinary. Then he noticed.

Henry could have said "dog" or "wolf." Instead, he had used an older word. Something that one didn't hear unless it was in reference to a specific breed.

"Hound? He used the word, hound. That's what caught your interest so intensely."

"Yes, archaic. Why a hound?" Sherlock asked. "That is as much a mystery as to what happened twenty-years-ago."

"Which is even fairly spotty itself," John said.

"You're wishing to go over all the details, aren't you?" Sherlock said in a somewhat bored tone.

"Well, you can do it with me, or I can do it by myself," John said.

"I'll leave you to your ponderings," Sherlock said before settling into his Mind Palace again.

John released a long breath. Well, it was going to be a long couple hours.

A little trill pulled John from his half-stupor. A glance at his watch showed that it was just a few minutes past noon. That meant that so long as there were no delays, they would be pulling into Exeter in about forty-five minutes. At the moment however, he had an incoming call.

He smiled as he read the caller ID. "Hi, Kayla," he greeted.

"Hi, John," Kayla greeted. "I finally got to read your text. Why are you and Sherlock going to Dartmoor? Well, aside from the obvious."

John bit back a chuckle. "We have a client who believes his father was murdered by some giant dog that could be an escaped government experiment," he answered, pulling himself to his feet. It was time to grab a couple sandwiches for himself and Sherlock. At least one of their cold meats shouldn't be too disappointing.

"'Escaped government experiment'?" Kayla asked.

"The murder took place close to Baskerville," John explained, taking a moment to gain his "sea legs" before crossing between cars. Honestly, sitting still on a train was one thing. It became a different game altogether when you started navigating. "Ever hear of it?"

"I think that I saw a preview of a documentary on the telly a while back, but I had some teacher meetings to attend during the time it aired," Kayla said. "Fill me in?"

"It's a government research facility," John said. "They perform numerous experiments, from how to help with the most mundane civilian problems to potential monsters bred for warfare. Honestly, I don't know how much is truth and how much is fiction in that place. All I do know is that it's a fodder house for conspiracy theorists."

"So, alien landings, Thor's hammer, fountain of youth, those sorts of things."

"Precisely. But whatever it was that killed our client's father twenty years ago, it scared and scarred him deeply. I was getting vague impressions of his memories. They were dark and twisted. Something attacked his father that night. Sherlock and I aren't entirely sure what it could have been, but something happened all those years ago. I'm certain of it."

"And the two of you are going to do what you can to figure out what."

"Precisely," John said. Finally reaching the food car, he placed an order for two sandwiches, paying for them he added, "So, you know what's going on for me. How about you?"

Kayla groaned. "I am dealing with a room of terrors today. I am praying that they will turn into little angels over the lunch period, even if it would turn out to be a miracle."

"I won't ask for details," John said with a sympathetic wince.

"Dare I ask about your 'child'?" Kayla asked, a teasing smile in her voice.

"If I didn't know better, I would have thought he stole and ate the entire inventory of a candy shop this morning," John answered. He smiled and thanked the server for the sandwiches and started to make his way back to his and Sherlock's car. "Frankly, it was the worst scenario of between cases syndrome that I have witnessed yet." He sighed. "I am convinced that he is testing me."

"All the more reason for us to pray for you and him," Kayla said. "As you continue to remain unbroken, it will continue to show him how much Jesus has changed you."

"I know," John said, stepping between cars once again. "It's just not easy. I know that others have it worse than I do, but it's difficult to hold that perspective when being bombarded by hyperactive intelligence." He smirked a little. "One bright spot. He actually admitted that the Bible could be right about the resurrection."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Kayla said.

"Of course he also said it could mean that the early Christians just knew how to cover all possibilities against numerous theories, but he actually admitted to something he's never done before."

"There's the very real possibility that he'll accept the Bible as truth and that God is real soon," Kayla said.

John smiled. "It may show just how weak my faith is but I don't see it happening for another few months."

"Oh, I just got a text from Molly," Kayla said. A moment later, "What did Sherlock do?"

"What did Molly say?" John asked.

"That you were hoping Molly and I could spend the evening with Mrs. Hudson for some girl bonding."

"Like a hyperactive child with no filter, he told her about Mr. Chatterjee's wife in Doncaster," John answered. "And if we are all very fortunate, Mr. Chatterjee would have ousted himself on any other wives he may have."

"I'll be sure to watch my words until I know how much she knows," Kayla said. "Oh, Molly just sent me another text." She laughed. "'If you're currently talking to one . . . John Watson, let him know that I'll be able to meet up with him and Sherlock early tomorrow if not late tonight.'"

"You hesitated," John said, his smile turning into a grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kayla protested.

"Yes, you do," John countered. "Molly either put something before my name or replaced my name with something else, didn't she?"

"Maybe," she hedged, her tone turning a mixture of shy and coy.

"Okay, what was it?" John asked.

"It's just something I said a week or so back," Kayla said.

"Kayla, I can practically hear the blush creeping up your face and it's heightening my curiosity."

Kayla hesitated a moment before whispering, "I might have told Molly you were . . . like a ninja teddy bear."

John stopped where he was, blinking a moment. "What?"

"Like a dangerous ninja teddy bear," Kayla said, rambling. "A teddy bear that may look safe and cuddly, but can be actually dangerous when placed in a dangerous situation. Oh," she groaned. "This is so embarrassing."

John started to chuckle. "A dangerous ninja teddy bear." Now he'd be having to see if ninja teddy bears existed and buy one for her. "I think I could get used to that idea."

"Please, just forget about it," Kayla pleaded.

"Sorry, I don't want to," he said, moving again.

"Is there anything I can say or do to make you drop it?" she asked.

"Nope, I actually like the idea of being your ninja teddy bear," he answered.

"You're never going to let me live it down, are you?" she asked.

"I probably won't let it get beyond us," he said, settling into his seat beside Sherlock again. "I do have reputation to upkeep. But, you can be sure to see a couple reminders."

"I never should have said anything," she said.

"Too late," John said. "I should let you eat your lunch before classes start again. I love you."

"Love you too," Kayla said. "Love you even more if you'd promise to forget about this."

"Then I'll have to settle for being loved less because I'm not forgetting," John answered.

"Ugh, I'm gonna get Molly," she groaned.

John chuckled as they hung up. He pulled his laptop out, allowing himself to be lost in his search for the remaining time on the train. Between bites of his sandwich (which despite his hopes was a little disappointing with limp lettuce, chewy meat, and damp bread), he tried to locate a ninja bear. It took a little bit but he finally located one. He ordered it and got the notification that it should arrive within two weeks time.

Thankfully, during all this, Sherlock had eaten on his own without protest. An incredible feat really, considering how he rarely ate during cases, insisting it slowed his brain too much. But he only scowled at the sandwich to show his disappointment before eating without further complaint.

They arrived in Exeter on time, Sherlock phoning ahead to rental to be sure that a car was ready for them. As they navigated through the station, Sherlock said, "It would be best if you drove. I haven't quite sorted everything out yet."

John stared at him. "You must have that horribly wrong, Sherlock. I can't drive."

"Of course you can," Sherlock insisted. "There is no physical or mental reason as to why you can't drive."

"No, but there is an intellectual one," John returned. "I don't know how to drive."

Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks, spinning on his heels. "You what?"

"I never went to driver's ed," John said. "I never saw the point in it, especially since I preferred London, and it just tends to work better to hail a cab or take the tube."

Sherlock appeared to be having a hard time computing this fact. He then whirled around, apparently still processing this as they continued. Finally, he declared, "I'll drive us then. I passed my driver's exam with flying colors. But once this case is solved, you are getting driving lessons."

"That is not necessary," John said.

"Yes, it is," Sherlock said.

"No, it isn't," John said.

"John," Sherlock said, turning and stopping again so quickly John almost ran into him. "We may not always live on Baker Street. As soon as one of us marries it will be highly impractical for one or both of us to remain. Cabbies are not always trustworthy. Tubes can be unreliable. If we were separated and needed to meet up quickly, it would be more practical to have our own cars which we can personally drive. So before it becomes an absolute necessity, you are learning how to drive."

John blinked. It was rare that Sherlock got this passionate about anything outside a case, and even rarer for him to be looking beyond the possibility of a new case. "Okay," he said. "Once we solve the case, I'll get driving lessons."

"Good," Sherlock said. With that he turned around and strode off as though he hadn't just single-handedly upended John's world.

John sighed, shaking his head. Of course. What else was new?

Not fifteen minutes later, they were in the black Land Rover and heading out for Dartmoor and Grimpen village. John took the opportunity to study the landscape rolling past them. Sun and clouds dappled the giant stones and grey-green plant life.

About 1:50, Sherlock pulled off the road, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. "We need to know the lay of the land," he said, shutting down the car before stepping out.

John grabbed a map of the area that he had picked up at the car rental and followed his friend out. He shook his head as Sherlock scrambled up a clifflike boulder. Of course, he would be dramatic like that when just staying on the ground would do. "How is the view, Captain Yellowbeard?" he called up.

"Quite fine, Deadly Phantom," Sherlock called back. "How's the view down there?"

"Serviceable," John returned, smiling. He then unfolded the map and tried to get his bearings. "There's Baskerville," he said, pointing out a cluster of buildings that stood out like a sore thumb in the rustic landscape. He turned to look behind them, where he could just vaguely make out the roofs of some civilian buildings. "That's Grimpen Village." He took a closer look at the map again, trying to peer through the wooded area. "So that must be . . ." He looked between the map and the woods that spread out to their left. "Yeah, it's Dewer's Hollow, somewhere in there."

Sherlock then pointed to a spot. "What's that?"

John followed his finger to a spot between Baskerville and the woods. "Hmm?" He pulled out his binoculars and focused on the area with seemingly random fencing. Warning signs were scattered about. "Minefield?" he guessed. "Technically, Baskerville is an army base, so I guess they've always been keen to keep people out."

"Clearly," Sherlock said. He stayed up there a moment more before scrambling down, like a pirate navigating familiar ropes.

"On to Grimpen then?" John asked.

"Precisely," Sherlock said. "We'll get a room at the pub, interview the locals, and then we'll head over to Baskerville."

"Do I even want to know what you have planned once we arrive there?" John asked.

"All in due time, John," Sherlock said.

John silently groaned. Lord, protect us from Sherlock's crazed schemes.

Author's Note: From here on out, you will be hearing numerous references to the rough timetable/timeline I figured for this episode based on research I did during "Preptober" and attempts to pick up cues from the episode itself.

The general movement of the train is based on my own experience. I had thought it was very much like a boat with the way it rumbled and rocked along the tracks. And yes, depending on how smooth or rough the tracks were, it could be interesting navigating the cars and between cars.

Kayla popped in. And hopefully I did not get her out of character. The ninja bear snuck up on me, sending me into some NaNo research. And there aren't a whole lot of ninja bears out there, but so long as you aren't picky and/or willing to pay the price, you can get one. Partly why I was a little more vague about that.

Apologies if it is required for military personnel to go through driver's ed (or the British equivalent). I did not think of looking it up, and merely thought it would be interesting to play with the bit of trivia that Martin Freeman didn't know how to drive at the filming of this episode. The idea of John himself not knowing how to drive at this point also brought to mind, "Hey, in the second to last episode in the final season, we see John driving." So, now I have a headcanon (however flimsy it may be) that in the original show timeline, John was only forced to learn how to drive after Sherlock's Fall. Well, that won't necessarily work for this crossover timeline since Reichenbach events aren't going to happen. So now, Sherlock is going to make sure that John knows how to drive based on potential future necessity.

Basically, if it canonically, John Watson should have known how to drive because of military requirements, just let me know and allow these circumstances to be a fun, creative nod to the actor's circumstances. Please.

And a couple Easter Eggs may have dropped. Can you spy?

Love to hear your thoughts and theories. :-)