The door slammed shut as someone entered 221B and John looked up from what he was doing to raise a brow at Sherlock as he entered; covered in blood and holding a harpoon with a scowl.

"Well, that was tedious." Sherlock complained and John took a moment before speaking.

"You went on the tube like that?"

"None of the cabs would take me." He complained, and more steps hurried up the stairs, making John lean forward to see a panting Sam; also covered in blood. "About time. Do you have what I told you?"

She nodded, doubled over with a hand on her knee to catch her breath as the other hand held up a notebook. "Y-Yeah. All observations written."

"Good. I get the bathroom first."

Sam groaned, but consented, dropping the notebook off on the table next to Sherlock's chair and calling out to Sherlock. "Can I at least get a towel so I don't get blood on the couch?!"

A blue towel was thrown out and over her head, making her lift the end with a frown.

"Gee, thanks."

"Welcome." Sherlock piped up, moving to the bathroom to shower.

John glanced at Sam as she settled down on the couch and pulled out her laptop; only to stare at the screen with a long, annoyed expression.

"Something wrong? Well, other than the fact that you're stuck in those clothes."

"My professor told me I've got a ten-page paper to write on my experience with you guys and I've got writer's block. I've only done maybe half a page and I got the assignment a week ago."

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

Sam hummed, brows furrowed and she continued to scowl at her laptop until Sherlock came out of the shower and gave her a chance. He chose to use that time, however, pacing anxiously with his harpoon after demanding John search the papers for a case.

"Nothing?"

"Military coup in Uganda." John rattled off, earning bored hums from Sherlock. "Another photo of you with the, uh…" He showed Sherlock the picture of him in the deerstalker, before picking up a different paper. "Oh, um, cabinet reshuffle."

"Nothing of importance? Oh, God!" He shouted, slamming his harpoon into the floor before turning to John. "John, I need some. Get me some."

"No." John said simply.

"Get me some." Sherlock snapped, but John repeated himself sternly.

"No. Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what. Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember? No one within a two-mile radius will sell you any. And don't bother asking Sam. She's been cut off as well."

"Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?" Sherlock complained as John cleared his throat and gave him a pointed look; frustrating him further. "Mrs. Hudson!"

"Look, Sherlock, you and Sam are doing really well. Don't give up now." John attempted as Sherlock began searching the flat for a hidden pack of cigarettes by making a mess.

"Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me." Sherlock said, stopping and turning to him with a more pitiful expression. "Please."

John didn't take the bait. "Can't help, sorry."

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers." Sherlock tried bribing, making John chuckle. "Well, it was worth a try."

Sherlock dove to the fireplace and upturned the objects there, searching the inside of a shoe as Mrs. Hudson walked in.

"Ooh, ooh."

Sherlock rounded on her. "My secret supply. What have you done with my secret supply?"

"Eh?"

"Cigarettes!" Sherlock snapped. "What have you done with them? Where are they?"

"You know you never let me touch your things." Ms. Hudson complained, spotting the mess he was making. "Oh, chance would be a fine thing."

"I thought you weren't my housekeeper." Sherlock argued.

"I'm not."

Sherlock let out frustrated noise, moving to grab his harpoon as John made a motion to Mrs. Hudson.

"How about a nice cuppa and perhaps you could put away your harpoon." She called out.

"I need something stronger than tea. Seven per cent stronger." Sherlock complained, turning around and pointing the harpoon at her. "You've been to see Mr. Chatterjee again."

"Pardon?"

Sherlock looked her over easily. "Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking."

"Sherlock." John scolded, hearing the shower cut off in the bathroom and hoping that Sam would come out and stop the rampaging man somehow.

She always seemed to have a better understanding of him anyway.

"Thumbnail, tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads, don't we?" Sherlock chided, before inhaling deeply. "Mm, Kasbah Nights. Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website. You should look it up."

"Please." Mrs. Hudson tried, also giving the bathroom door a brief glance.

"I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He's—" Sherlock was cut off as the bathroom opened and Sam walked out; taking one look at the harpoon he was pointing at Mrs. Hudson and sighing.

"Really? Couldn't just wait until I was out of the shower?" She complained, running the towel over her hair and moving to the skull on the mantel where she pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

"Oh, thank God." Sherlock moaned, heading over and holding out his hand, but Sam pulled the pack out of his reach with a frown.

"Apologize to Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock scowled, trying to snatch the pack from her, but she easily dodged it and moved to the table by John; dangling the pack over his cup of water.

"Do it, sincerely, or I'll ruin the cigarettes."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't. You need one too."

Sam's eye twitched, but she didn't give. "Yeah, well, sucks for us both then, huh?"

Sherlock groaned, before turning to Mrs. Hudson. "Sorry."

The elder woman nodded, before Sherlock continued.

"Sorry, I didn't tell you about his wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about."

"Sherlock!" John scolded, but the damage had been done.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I really don't!" Mrs. Hudson wailed, hurrying out of the flat as Sherlock climbed over a chair and sat in it with his knees hugged to his chest.

John exchanged an exasperated look with Sam, who tapped a cigarette out of the box and slipped it between her lips, unlit.

"What the bloody hell was all that about?" John snapped at Sherlock.

"You don't understand." Sherlock grumbled.

"Go after her and apologize."

Sherlock scoffed. "Oh, John, I envy you so much."

John narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You envy me?"

"Your mind. It's so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mines like an engine, racing out of control. A rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad. I need a case!"

"You just solved one!" John shouted back, Sam lighting the cigarette and sitting at the window with a sigh of annoyance. "By harpooning a dead pig apparently!"

Sherlock jumped to sit in the seat more appropriately, drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair anxiously. "That was this morning. When's the next one? Sam?"

She glanced at him with a raised brow. "Seriously? What about Bluebell?"

"Who?" John questioned and Sherlock got up to pass his laptop to John reciting the message off his website.

"'Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please can you help?'" He whined like a child.

"Again, Bluebell?"

"A rabbit." Sam answered. "One that turned luminous before it vanished from its locked hutch."

"It did what?" John blinked.

"Turned luminous. 'like a fairy' according to little Kirsty." Sherlock mocked with a wave of his hands. "Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone. Hutch still locked, no sign of forced entry…" He suddenly grew more serious. "Ah, what am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit."

"Are you serious?" John questioned.

"It's this or Cluedo."

"Ah, no. We are never playing that again." John said, closing his laptop and setting it back on the table.

"Why not?" Sherlock pouted as Sam rolled her eyes.

"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock. That's why."

"Well, it was the only possible solution."

"It's not in the rules."

"Then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock snapped, before the doorbell rang and Sam let out a long groan as she got up and went to go answer it.

"Thank God. I was about to harpoon you both if he didn't finally show up."

"Who?" John asked and Sam tossed him the pack of cigarettes.

"Sherlock's next interesting case."

I yawned as Henry went on about the hound of Baskerville, tired after a long night of trying and failing to write my paper only to deal with nightmares afterward. I'd been thinking too much about the Fall and what I was going to do, mostly. I hadn't even thought about this case nor the ones afterward. Already, I was getting a headache and Sherlock getting fed up with Henry about this hound business wasn't exactly helping. Though, I was zoning out as they talked. I wonder what I should have for dinner tonight. Mrs. Hudson showed me how to make fish and chips, but I don't know if Sherlock would care for it. We've got stuff for sandwiches too, but I'll probably use that for lunch… hm. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back against the arm of the couch, letting out a soft breath and missing Sherlock's frustrated glare in my direction. Soup maybe? Ooh, I think we've got beef in the fridge. I could make American hamburgers.

I heard a shift and peeked an eye open to see Henry standing, but reached for my headphones instead of caring. Sherlock will be doing his deductions now and as impressive as it is, I already know this, so it's not as interesting as one would think. I began to doze off, mouth slightly open and headphones beginning to slip off, before something hit me in the stomach and I let out a grunt. The pack of cigarettes was on my lap and I glared at Sherlock as he made for the door.

"You go on ahead, Henry. We'll follow later."

"Uh, sorry. So you are coming?" Henry questioned as I slipped my headphones around my neck and rubbed my eyes.

Sherlock turned round. "Twenty-year-old disappearance, a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world. Sam, pack your things. We're off to Dartmoor."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose and flopping back on the couch as John showed Henry to the door and returned.

"You alright?"

"Headache." I murmured, moving towards my bag. "Be suspicious of the coffee."

John blinked. "What?"

I smiled innocently. "Always be suspicious of the coffee. It's your hint for the day, John."

His brows furrowed in confusion, but nodded. "Alright. Do you, uh… Do you know about this case at all then?"

"Yup." I hummed, tossing a notebook into my backpack. "And it's surprisingly less dangerous than one would think. Though Sherlock will be in a foul mood, but it's understandable if you're looking at it the right way. So don't be too angry with him. Hint number two."

John only looked more confused. "Right…" He cleared his throat and moved towards his bedroom. "I don't think I'll ever get used to you knowing future events."

"Yeah, well, be glad you don't have that knowledge." I replied, muttering under my breath the last bit. "It's not exactly easy to deal with."

"S-Sherlock?" Sam chimed from the back of the jeep. "Sherlock, pull over."

Sherlock scowled. "We're nearly there, whatever it is, you can wait."

"Sherlock, please."

Sherlock went to argue further, but one look at Sam in the rearview mirror and the jeep was on the side of the road. Sherlock grimaced as Sam bolted from the car and dove for a more distant patch of land from the road; losing her lunch in the grass. John was on her heels and Sherlock got out as well, moving up the rock face to try and get a bird's eye view of the place they were headed.

"Just travel sick." John called out to him. "I gave her a water, but she'll need a mo."

Sherlock nodded, biting his tongue to keep from saying something he might regret, before John pointed out various areas with the help of a map.

"There's Bakersfield. That's Grimpen Village. So that must be… yeah. It's Dewer's Hollow."

Sherlock gestured to a different area though. "What's that?"

John pulled out some binoculars to get a better look, but Sam spoke up; still looking a little green but better than before.

"M-Minefield."

"Well, technically Baskerville's an army base, so I guess they've always been keep to keep people out." John mused, giving Sam a look. "Feeling better?"

She nodded. "Sorry. I'm usually alright, but I used up the last of my travel medicine on the bus ride into London from the airport."

Sherlock hummed, heading back to the car and rolling the back window down for her despite the slightly chilling weather. She thanked him quietly, hanging her head out the window with a sigh. It wasn't long before they reached Grimpen Village, getting out once they found an inn and walking towards a pub where a man was standing outside talking about the tours he was doing for the hound.

"Three times a day, tell your friends. Tell anyone." He grinned. "Don't be strangers and remember, stay away from the moor at night if you value your lives!"

Sherlock flipped his collar up, not missing the small smile on Sam's face, nor the pointed look John gave him.

"I'm cold." He lied, earning a snort from Sam as they walked into the pub.

John went up front to get some rooms while Sam bought a drink despite John's motherly look attempting to dissuade her against it. Sherlock though, was looking around curiously before the owner, Gary, placed two keys on the counter.

"Uh, sorry we couldn't do a double room for you boys." He apologized, looking between Sam and John, then over at Sherlock. "Curious, but which of you are with the tall one?"

Sam choked on her drink as John turned a little pale at the mention.

"W-We're not…" John gave up though, seeing that Gary wouldn't exactly believe him either way and paid for his own drink as well. "There you go."

"Oh, ta. I'll just get your change."

"Ta." John responded as Gary left, only to spot something odd on the counter.

It was a receipt for a rather large amount of meat, for the inn being vegetarian. He looked around to make sure no one was watching before pocketing the paper just as Gary returned.

"There you go."

John decided to do some intel gathering then. "I couldn't help noticing on the map of the moor, a skull and crossbones."

"Oh that. Aye."

"Pirates?"

"Uh, no, no." Gary corrected, seeing how his 'aye' might have come across as that. "The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it."

"Oh, right."

"It's not what you think." Gary urged, seeing that Sam had been listening in as well. "It's Baskerville testing site. It's been going for eighty-odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there anymore."

"Explosives?" John asked.

"Oh, not just explosives. Break into that place and—if you're lucky—you just get blown up, so they say. In case you're planning a nice wee stroll."

"Ta, I'll remember."

"Aye, no. It buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound." Gary chuckled, coming out from behind the bar to grab some glasses. "Did you see that show? That documentary?"

"Quite recently, yeah."

"Aye. God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell."

"Ever seen it? The hound?" John asked, catching Sherlock's attention from the door and Sam's as well, as she moved towards Sherlock.

"Me? No. Fletcher has." Gary said, gesturing to the man outside doing the tours. "He runs the walks. The monster walks for tourists, you know? He's seen it."

"That's handy, for the trade." John smiled as Sam and Sherlock walked out.

Sam nodded to the abandoned drink on a nearby table and Sherlock snatched it up before following Fletcher to another table.

"Mind if we join you?"

Fletcher shrugged, welcoming them as they sat and he rubbed at his shoulder.

"It's not true, is it?" Sherlock questioned. "You haven't actually seen this… hound thing."

Fletched looked at him suspiciously. "You from the papers?"

"No. Nothing like that. Just curious. Have you seen it?"

"Maybe."

"Got any proof?"

"Who would I tell you if I did?" Fletcher snapped, making to leave. "'Scuse me."

John headed over then. "I called Henry—"

Sherlock spoke up over him, making Sam roll her eyes. "Bet's off, John. Sorry."

"What?"

"Bet?" Fletcher said, curious now.

Sam nodded. "He made a bet with John. Something about you being able to prove the existence of the hound."

"My plan needs darkness." Sherlock said, ignoring Fletcher as he looked at his watch and then the sky. "Reckon we've got another half an hour of light."

"Wait, wait. What bet?" Fletcher questioned, wanting more details than what Sam gave him.

"Oh, I bet John here fifty quid that you couldn't prove you'd seen the hound, as Sam said."

John caught on and nodded. "Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could."

Fletcher chuckled. "Well, you're gonna lost your money, mate."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind. Couldn't make much out."

"I see. No witnesses, I suppose." Sherlock mused.

"No, but—"

"Never are."

"Wait." Fletcher pulled out his phone and showed them a fogged photo. "There."

Sam leaned forward, squinting. "Bit sketchy, that. Can't make much out. Could just be a dog."

Sherlock agreed. "Sam's right. It's not exactly proof, is it? Sorry, John. I win."

"Wait, wait. That's not all." Fletcher said, stopping Sherlock from drinking some of the beer he'd stolen. "People don't like going up there, you know. To the Hollow. Gives them a… bad sort of feeling."

"Ooh, is it haunted?" Sherlock mocked him. "Is that supposed to convince me?"

"Nah, don't be stupid. Nothing like that." Fletcher argued. "But I reckon there is something out there. Something from Baskerville escaped."

"A clone? Super-dog?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Maybe." Fletcher frowned, not appreciating the jabs. "God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years. Or putting in the water. I wouldn't trust 'em as far as I could spit."

"Which can't be far." Sam snorted, drinking some of her own drink before Fletcher spilled some more.

"I had a mate once. Worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishing but he never showed up. Well, not 'til late. When he did… he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. 'I've seen things today Fletch.' He said. 'That I never want to see again. Terrible things'. He'd been sent to some secret Army place. Porton Down, maybe. Maybe Baskerville or somewhere else." Fletcher leaned closer. "In the labs there. The really secret labs. He said he'd seen… terrible things. 'Rats as big as dogs.' He said. 'And dogs…'" He reached into his bag and pulled out a plaster cast of a large dog print. "'…dogs, the size of horses'."

Even Sherlock was impressed by the cast and John—needing the money after Sherlock constantly ditches him to pay the cab fare—hurried to collect.

"Uh, we did say fifty?"

Fletcher grinned and Sherlock begrudgingly gave in and handed him the money. Sherlock got up and Sam chugged down the rest of her drink before trailing after him with John. They again, left the window down for her as they drove into the Baskerville army base. They were stopped at a gate by armed soldiers and Sherlock handed him an ID as John questioned it.

"You've got ID for Baskerville? How?"

"It's not specific to this place. It's my brother's." Sherlock replied. "Access all areas. I, um…" He cleared his throat. "…acquired it ages ago, just in case."

"Brilliant." John hissed.

"What's the matter?"

"We'll get caught."

"No, we won't. Well, not just yet." Sherlock reassured him.

"Caught in five minutes." John argued. "'Oh, hi. We just thought we'd come and have a wander round your top secret weapons base.' 'Really? Great! Come in! Kettle's just boiled'. That's if we don't get shot."

"Well, then just ask Sam." Sherlock grumbled and Sam popped her head between them.

"What's that? I was napping."

Sherlock groaned as John questioned her.

"Sherlock used Mycroft's ID to get in. We're going to get caught, aren't we?"

"Hm? Oh, nah. You should have more faith in Sherlock, John. And in Mycroft. He's known about Sherlock taking his ID for ages. Us getting caught all depends on whether he's in a good mood or not." Sam smirked. "Now, if I sent him that cake… Well, then we might be in some trouble."

"Cake?"

"The diet, John." Sherlock smiled as Sam chuckled and sat back in her seat properly.

"Ah."

"Thank you very much, sir." A guard said, heading over and handing Sherlock back his brother's pass. "Straight through, sir."

"Mycroft's name literally opens doors!" John joked as they headed though.

"I've told you. He practically is the British government. I reckon we've got about twenty minutes before they realize something's wrong."

"Twenty-three." Sam hummed as they parked and got out. "Though it'd be best to pretend it's twenty. We'll get lucky."

They walked towards the entrance with a soldier leading them, only for a jeep to pull up and another man to hop out.

"What is it?" He asked, looking worried. "Are we in trouble?"

"'Are we in trouble, sir?' Sherlock corrected.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"You were expecting us?" Sherlock questioned curiously as the man stopped them.

"Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security. Is there something wrong, sir?" Lyons asked again after introducing himself.

"Well, I hope not, Corporal. I hope not."

"It's just we don't get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesn't happen." Lyons insisted.

"Ever heard of a spot check?" John added on, revealing his military ID to the man. "Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

Lyons quickly saluted and John returned it in perfect form.

"Sir. Major Barrymore won't be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you…" Lyons trailed off when he spotted Sam, frowning. "Who's this? He's not authorized to be here."

"He's my secretary and security." Sherlock said shortly. "So I suggest you give him every respect you give me."

Lyons didn't look convinced, but shut his mouth and gave in. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

John stepped in then. "And we won't have time to meet Major Barrymore. We'll need the full tour right away. Carry on." John said, ordering the man when he hesitated. "That's an order, Corporal."

"Yes, sir."

Lyons hurried to let them in and Sherlock smirked at John, alongside Sam as he checked his watch and they entered the building.

"Nice touch." Sherlock muttered to John quietly.

"I haven't pulled rank in ages."

"Enjoy it?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Thanks, Sherlock." Sam piped in and Sherlock raised a brow. "For letting me tag along. Sticking up for me."

"Please." He scoffed. "I wasn't about to make you go wait in the car."

"Still. Thanks."

They got into an elevator and went down to the first basement level where Sam jumped out of her skin when a monkey launched itself at the bars of its cage.

"God, I hate monkeys." She complained, smacking Sherlock when he smiled at her in amusement.

"How many animals do you keep down here?" Sherlock asked.

"Lots, sir."

"Any ever escape?" He asked as Sam eyed the beagle being led past them.

"They'd have to know how to use the lift, sir. We're not breeding them that clever."

"Unless they have help." He muttered under his breath as a man headed over curiously.

"Ah, and you are?"

"Sorry, Doctor Frankland." Lyons apologized to the scientist. "I'm just showing these gentlemen around."

Frankland smiled. "Ah, new faces, huh? Nice. Careful you don't get stuck here, though. I only came to fix a tap!" He joked, leaving as John asked more questions to Lyons; missing the frown Sam sent at Frankland's back.

"How far down does that lift go?"

"Quite a way, sir."

"Mhmm. And what's down there?"

"Well, we have to keep the bins somewhere, sir." Lyons mused. "This way please, gentlemen."

They trailed after him as he led the way.

"So what exactly is it that you do here?" John questioned.

"I thought you'd know, sir. This being an inspection."

"Well, I'm not an expert, am I?" John challenged.

Lyons answered him easily enough. "Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir."

"But mostly weaponry?"

"Of one sort or another, yes."

"Biological? Chemical?"

"One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared."

"Then wouldn't it be smarter to prepare for ways to prevent the effects of chemical warfare?" Sam piped in. "I mean, you can win a war by fighting, but you can also win it by making the enemies' weapons useless. Seems more productive to me, than losing people trying to fight an endless battle."

John smiled a bit, but Lyons didn't look convinced and opened the next door where a woman was speaking with her colleague over another monkey.

"Doctor Stapleton?" Lyons called out, making Sherlock frown.

"Stapleton?"

"Bluebell." Sam muttered under her breath, helping Sherlock as he 'ah'-ed in understanding.

"Yes? Who's this?" Stapleton asked.

"Priority Ultra, ma'am. Orders from on high. An inspection." Lyons answered her question, making her suspicious as well.

"Really?"

"We're to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton." Sherlock pressed, hoping to make things move along a little faster. "What's your role at Baskerville?"

She snorted and John raised a brow.

"Uh, according to every courtesy, isn't that the idea?"

"I'm not free to say. Official secrets." She replied, not trusting the group.

"Genes."

All eyes went to Sam, who pretended to look at a small notepad.

"Mostly." She said, flipping a page, though Sherlock noted that it was completely blank.

She was keeping up pretenses as their secretary.

"You mix genes together to find certain results. Namely one from the common jellyfish."

Sherlock smirked. "Ah, yes. I knew I knew your name. Took Sam here to remind me."

"I doubt it." Stapleton mumbled.

"People say there's no such thing as coincidence. What dull lives they must leave." Sherlock hummed, grabbing Sam's notepad and writing something on it before revealing it to her.

BLUEBELL

"Have you been talking to my daughter?" Stapleton gaped in shock.

"Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?" Sherlock asked and John turned to them in questionable disbelief.

"The rabbit?"

"Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive." Sherlock rattled off.

"The rabbit?" John repeated.

"Clearly an inside job." Sherlock went on, ignoring John for now as Stapleton frowned.

"Oh, you reckon?"

"Why?" Sherlock asked, turning to Sam as she finished.

"Because it glowed in the dark."

"Exactly." Sherlock smirked, checking his watch as Stapleton argued.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Who are you?"

"Well, I think we've seen enough for now, Corporal." Sherlock said quickly. "Thank you so much."

"That's it?" Lyons asked.

"That's it. It's this way, isn't it?" Sherlock mused, already heading back with Sam's hand in his as he tugged her along.

Stapleton tried to stop them, but was ignored as John hurried over to his friends' side and spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?"

They were nearly there when Sherlock's phone went off and he glanced at the text from Mycroft.

What are you doing?

M

Sherlock chuckled. "You were right, Sam. Twenty-three minutes. Mycroft's getting slow."

The get into the lift with Frankland, who looked suspiciously at them, but said nothing other than a quick 'hello again'.

They made to step out, but an older man was standing there looking cross.

"Uh, um, Major." Lyons stuttered out.

"This is bloody outrageous. Why wasn't I told?"

John stepped forward. "Major Barrymore, is it? Yes, well, good. Very good." John offered a hand to shake. "We're very impressed, aren't we Mr. Holmes?"

Barrymore refused to shake John's hand, as Sherlock pulled out his phone to see another text.

"Deeply, hugely." Sherlock muttered.

What's going on, Sherlock?

M

Sherlock brushed past the Major as the rest followed him and the man complained.

"The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense."

"I'm so sorry, Major." Sherlock said, unapologetically.

"Inspections?!"

"New policy. Can't remain unmonitored forever. Goodness knows what you'd get up to." He whispered harshly to John and Sam. "Keep walking."

"Sir!" Lyons called out then, hitting an alarm button. "ID unauthorized, sir."

"What?" Barrymore questioned.

"I've just had the call."

"Is that right?" Barrymore smirked, looking smug as he turned to the trio. "Who are you?"

"Look, there's obviously been some kind of mistake." John attempted and Barrymore held a hand out for Sherlock's ID.

"Clearly not Mr. Holmes."

John nudged Sam, who began to scribble on her notepad. "Computer error, Major. It'll all have to go in the report."

"What the hell's going on?!" He demanded, but then Frankland wandered up with a smile.

"It's alright, Major. I know exactly who these gentlemen are."

"You do?" Barrymore frowned.

"Yeah, I'm getting a little slow on faces, but Mr. Holmes here isn't someone I expected to show up in this place." He said, covering for them and Sherlock went along with it hesitantly.

"Ah, well."

"Good to see you again, Mycroft." Frankland said with a subtle look, holing out his hand to shake and Sherlock smiled; understanding now what Sam said earlier about them getting lucky. "I had the honor of meeting Mr. Holmes at the W.H.O. conference in… Brussels, was it?"

"Vienna." Sherlock corrected, playing along.

"Vienna, that's it." Frankland smiled, turning to Barrymore. "This is Mr. Mycroft Holmes, Major. There's obviously been a mistake."

Barrymore gave Lyons the silent order to stop the alarm and frowned at the scientist. "On your head be it, Doctor Frankland." Frankland laughed, not taking the man seriously as he offered to led the trio out to their parked jeep; where Sam hit Sherlock and he begrudgingly thanked the man.

"Thank you."

"This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?" Frankland questioned, no one saying as such, but him assuming it to be true. "I thought so. I knew he wanted help, but I didn't realize he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock smiled bitterly, but Frankland went on.

"Oh, don't worry. I know who you really are. I'm never off your website. Thought you'd be wearing the hat though."

"That wasn't my hat." Sherlock grumbled.

Frankland wasn't listening though, smiling at John. "I hardly recognized him without the hat."

"It wasn't my hat." Sherlock repeated.

"I love the blog too, Doctor Watson."

"Oh, cheers" John smiled.

"The, uh, the Pink thing."

"Mhm."

"And the one about the aluminum crutch!"

"Yes."

"You know Henry Knight?" Sherlock cut in, not wanting to listen to the rest of their drabble.

"Well, I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend." Frankland said, glancing back to see Barrymore watching them. "Listen, I can't really talk now." He passed a card over. "Here's my uh, cell number. If I could help with Henry, give me a call."

"I never did ask, Doctor Frankland. What exactly is it that you do here?" Sherlock questioned, having not missed the way Sam had remained silently watching Frankland.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes. I would love to tell you, but then—of course—I'd have to kill you." Frankland grinned, laughing as Sherlock kept his face blank.

"That would be tremendously ambitious of you."

Frankland's smile faltered as Sherlock pressed him for more answers.

"Tell me about Doctor Stapleton."

"Never speak ill of a colleague."

"Yet you'd speak well of one, which you're clearly omitting to do." Sherlock challenged.

"I do seem to be, don't I?"

Sherlock raised his card. "I'll be in touch."

"Anytime."

Frankland headed back as they went towards the jeep and John hummed.

"So?"

"So?" Sherlock repeated.

"What was all that about the rabbit?"

Sherlock smirked and flipped his coat collar up, making John groan and Sam snicker.

"Oh, please. Can we not do this, this time?"

"Do what?"

"You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool."

Sherlock paused at the car door. "I don't do that."

"Yeah, you kind of do." Sam smiled. "You did it earlier when we were dropping by the pub, remember?"

Sherlock scowled. "Oh, who paid you to be observant?"

"You did, apparently, seeing as I'm suddenly your secretary, sir."

Sherlock groaned as John chuckled and the trio drove off to meet up with Henry.

I slept on the way to Henry's, not wanting to get car sick again, but was soon woken up and tugged along with Sherlock and John into Henry's place. John was a little more than surprised at the house and it's expensive furnishing, but we were soon sitting down for coffee. Sherlock dropped in his usual sugar cubes, but I took my coffee black to keep awake. I didn't do well after naps in the middle of the day. I usually ended up tired the rest of the afternoon, so straight coffee would do me some good. Henry then began explaining what he'd remembered lately in his nightmares.

"I-It's a couple of words. It's what I keep seeing. 'liberty'."

John repeated the word as he jotted it down.

"'Liberty and 'in'. It's just that." Henry said, grabbing the milk and asking if John still needed it, before putting it away as John turned to Sherlock and I.

"Mean anything to you?"

"'Liberty in death'." Sherlock said quietly, to not alarm Henry. "Isn't that the expression? The only true freedom."

Henry returned to the counter, glancing anxiously out the window. "What now, then?"

"Sherlock's got a plan." John said easily as Sherlock nodded.

"Yes."

"Right."

"We take you out to the moor." Sherlock started, already making Henry nervous.

"Okay…"

"And see if anything attacks you." Sherlock grinned as John rounded on him.

"What?!"

"That should bring things to a head."

"At night?" Henry said shakily. "You want me to go out there at night?"

"Mm."

"That's your plan?" John scoffed, sarcastically. "Brilliant!"

"Got any better ideas?" Sherlock challenged.

"That's not a plan."

"Listen." Sherlock said seriously. "If there is a monster out there, John, there's only one thing to do. Find out where it lives."

John turned to Sam. "Sam, please tell me there's something else. Anything else."

I glanced at the panicked Henry who also looked at me like I could save him from this fate, but I hadn't the slightest idea. This was another big turning point for John and Sherlock. It helped humanize Sherlock and show him that he needed John. That he had friends who worried about him. It tested him mentally and showed him a problem that he needed in order to think outside the box and understand things like relations with the people around him. If I gave away anything too soon, it could ruin everything. That, and it's not like anyone gets seriously injured other than Frankland. Tripping him in the fog shouldn't be too hard, especially since I know where he'll be headed. I can get ahead of him and stop him before he gets blown up. Henry has mental issues however, and those won't be nearly as easy to stop or help with. I don't know. Maybe I'll think of something. Stay with him at night or something. Give him some support.

"Sorry, John. Things have to go as they should. If there's anything I can do, I will, but Sherlock's plan here actually helps. Sorry." I aimed that last apology at Henry. "I'll help as much as I can, but there's not much I can do right now."

"R-Right." Henry murmured, looking a bit confused, but more nervous about what was coming up.

As night began to fall, we headed out to the moor and Henry led the way as we followed with our torches. Sherlock wanted me behind Henry and in front of him should anything happen, which I was fine with, though that did leave John in the back. And he's going to get distracted by the horny teenagers and their flashing lights. I feel a bit bad, but if he comes with the rest of us and managed to shoot the dog, then we'll miss the bigger picture. It grew darker still as we made it to a more forested path. After a moment, I glanced down to see one light behind me. John's gone. We passed a danger sign or two then, before Sherlock tried to start up a chat.

"Met a friend of yours."

"What?"

"Doctor Frankland."

"Oh, right. Bob. Yeah." Henry said.

"Seems pretty concerned about you."

"He's a worrier, bless him. He's been very kind to me since I came back."

"He knew your father." Sherlock went on.

"Yeah."

"But he works at Baskerville. Didn't your dad have a problem with that?"

"Well, mates are mates, aren't they? I mean, look at you, John and Sam."

Sherlock frowned. "What about us?"

"Well, I mean, he's a straight forward bloke and Sam seems to sort of keep you…" Henry paused, not wanting to finish when he caught sight of Sherlock's expression, switching topics. "T-They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad." Henry stopped and nodded down into a fogged valley by our feet down a steep slope. "Dewer's Hollow."

Sherlock turned to me. "Sam, I want you to stay up here."

"What?" I questioned, unsure for more than one reason.

Doesn't the dog end up here? I can't really remember. Maybe it was down there? I should stick by Henry though, shouldn't I? He has a really bad freak out after this, as does Sherlock. Sherlock though repeated his order.

"Stay here."

I begrudgingly nodded and watched as he and Henry slid down the slope into the fog. I could barely see them, when a loud howl rang out; far closer than I'd like it to be.

"Uh, Sherlock?"

He ignored me, his torch still aimed at the ground where the dogs' footprints were probably at. Another howl rang out and Sherlock finally looked up. His light scanned the top of the ridge, and then something slammed into me. I was hit hard and fell to the ground, losing my torch. I cursed and scrambled on my hands and knees for the light, but something grabbed my ankle and pulled me back away from it.

"G-Get off!" I shouted, kicking out with my free foot and landing a hit on something; making it yelp before I grabbed the torch and turned to shine it on my attacker.

I honestly wish I hadn't. I wasn't down in the drugged-up fog. It should have just been some big dog to me, but this thing was massive and very angry. It growled lowly in its throat, sharp teeth showing brightly in my light as it snarled at me, looking about ready to tear me apart if it wasn't for John's timely appearance. His noisy footsteps hurried over and his torch spooked the dog, sending it off as I laid there panting and out of breath. No, no. It's just a dog. I'm fine. It's just a dog. It's not even close to being scary. Not as scary as… I shivered just remembering Moriarty, but it knocked me out of my panic enough to get up onto my feet with a cringe. I shined my torch on my ankle and winced at the torn hem of my pant leg and the dark stain accompanying whatever damage the dog had inflicted. I can't let them know. They'll make me stay at the inn and then I won't even have a chance of saving Frankland. I'll have to hide it. it's dark, Sherlock's panicked. I should be fine.

I brushed off the dirt on me as best I could and hurried over to where John was meeting up with Sherlock and Henry; doing my best to keep from limping.

"We saw it." Henry breathed out. "We saw it."

"No. I didn't see anything." Sherlock snapped shortly, hurrying off as Henry chased after him.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I didn't see anything."