All Forgiven
I was very weak for a few days after my ordeal. When I finally regained the strength to leave my room again, it was to find Sir Henry, Holmes, and Dr. Watson waiting for me. As Sir Henry rubbed my ears, Watson looked skeptically at me.
"I don't know, Holmes. She is part Hell-hound. She might be dangerous, both to us and to our clients."
Holmes patted my head, an action he'd never done before. "Watson, if she was anything like her ghastly relative, she would have leapt upon Sir Henry the minute she saw him. She stays." he finished, putting an end to the matter.
"That reminds me." Sir Henry said, standing up. "Have you thought of a name for her yet?"
Holmes shook his head. "I have been too busy in this case. Perhaps you could help me come up with a suitable name."
Sir Henry looked at me. "Her fur reminds me a little of the pup I had when I was a boy. Her name was Eliza, and she was the sweetest, gentlest dog I ever had."
Holmes looked at me. "Eliza is a fine name, but this dog carries herself too well to have a simple name like that." He thought for a moment. "I have it! You can see that she holds herself up proudly, like a queen. Who was one of our most famous queens?"
"Queen Elizabeth!" Watson said.
"Exactly, Watson! We shall name her Elizabeth."
Elizabeth. I liked that name. And I marveled how I could have thought once that I didn't want to come here. In the space of a week and a half, I had made a new friend, discovered my past, ended the curse of the Baskervilles, and now had a new name and a permanent home. I looked around at the three men, and wagged my tail delightedly. I had a feeling I was going to enjoy my new life.
***
We stayed a few more days in Baskerville Hall, then returned to Baker Street. Dr Watson published the story, editing out the part about me. He said that having a fictional brother for the young Miss Stapleton being the cause of it all made for better reading, but I doubted it. I think he was a little afraid that my past would drive away potential clients. In the meantime, I should have been happy. But for weeks on end I had nightmares of that moment when our voices met in one steady note. It was only when I started to tell this tale that I was able to sleep peacefully again.The race of Hell-hounds is no more.
I was very weak for a few days after my ordeal. When I finally regained the strength to leave my room again, it was to find Sir Henry, Holmes, and Dr. Watson waiting for me. As Sir Henry rubbed my ears, Watson looked skeptically at me.
"I don't know, Holmes. She is part Hell-hound. She might be dangerous, both to us and to our clients."
Holmes patted my head, an action he'd never done before. "Watson, if she was anything like her ghastly relative, she would have leapt upon Sir Henry the minute she saw him. She stays." he finished, putting an end to the matter.
"That reminds me." Sir Henry said, standing up. "Have you thought of a name for her yet?"
Holmes shook his head. "I have been too busy in this case. Perhaps you could help me come up with a suitable name."
Sir Henry looked at me. "Her fur reminds me a little of the pup I had when I was a boy. Her name was Eliza, and she was the sweetest, gentlest dog I ever had."
Holmes looked at me. "Eliza is a fine name, but this dog carries herself too well to have a simple name like that." He thought for a moment. "I have it! You can see that she holds herself up proudly, like a queen. Who was one of our most famous queens?"
"Queen Elizabeth!" Watson said.
"Exactly, Watson! We shall name her Elizabeth."
Elizabeth. I liked that name. And I marveled how I could have thought once that I didn't want to come here. In the space of a week and a half, I had made a new friend, discovered my past, ended the curse of the Baskervilles, and now had a new name and a permanent home. I looked around at the three men, and wagged my tail delightedly. I had a feeling I was going to enjoy my new life.
***
We stayed a few more days in Baskerville Hall, then returned to Baker Street. Dr Watson published the story, editing out the part about me. He said that having a fictional brother for the young Miss Stapleton being the cause of it all made for better reading, but I doubted it. I think he was a little afraid that my past would drive away potential clients. In the meantime, I should have been happy. But for weeks on end I had nightmares of that moment when our voices met in one steady note. It was only when I started to tell this tale that I was able to sleep peacefully again.The race of Hell-hounds is no more.