A/N as per part 1

Holmes and companions do not belong to me.

Watson POV

Moor Verse 3

With tingling nerves but firm resolve, I waited there alone,

Until I heard the distant sound of footstep striking stone.

The steps approached, then silence, then a shadow at the door.

And then I heard a sound I'd heard so many times before.

A sound quite unexpected, which my brain at first denied,

The distinctive voice of Sherlock Holmes, inviting me outside!

I sat there stunned and breathless, not believing what I heard.

To think that Holmes was close at hand was really quite absurd.

But then my sense and voice returned, I called and he replied,

And pocketing my pistol, I hastened to his side.

A lean and sunburned Sherlock Holmes was seated on a stone.

I knew whatever lay ahead, I would not face alone.

The burden of the past few weeks had been a constant strain.

That burden had been lifted when I heard his voice again.

I wondered what had warned him that his dwelling had been found.

He waved the cigarette stub I'd discarded on the ground.

We compared degrees of progress in this complicated case,

And then I asked what brought him to this god-forsaken place.

His answer caused some bitterness; he'd used me yet again,

I felt he did not trust me; my reports had been in vain.

He said he'd worked in secret so our foe was not alarmed,

And his action had been prompted by the fear I could be harmed.

My reports had been essential to his handling of the case,

I conceded I'd have done the same if I'd been in his place.

Then Holmes, relieved I'd understood, described what he'd discovered,

Regarding Mr Stapleton, deceptions he'd uncovered.

Frankland`s girl and Stapleton enjoyed a secret life,

And the girl he called his sister was in fact his lawful wife.

At his words, the vague suspicions I had harboured from the start,

All centred on the botanist, his cold and murderous heart.

And now his nets were closing in, and soon he'd pull them tight.

I had to guard Sir Henry and not let him out of sight.

But as we spoke, a dreadful scream rang out across the moor,

It faded in the distance then came louder than before.

Another sound was heard behind this desperate, wrenching plea,

A deep and muttered rumble like the murmur of the sea.

"The hound!" exclaimed my partner, "And I fear we are too late!"

And one last scream, then silence, seemed to seal Sir Henry's fate.

We stumbled through the darkness till we reached a stone strewn slope.

A body hunched face downwards took our last remaining hope.

I felt I was responsible as I had left his side.

If I had been more diligent, he may well not have died.

And Holmes felt he was more to blame, he'd waited for more clues,

And had not really thought of what his client had to lose.

We stood with bitter hearts as we reflected on the case.

Our long and weary labours at an end in such a place.

The moor was gloom and silver in the shadows of the night,

A single house, the Stapleton's, with distant mocking light.

But Holmes then checked the body and observed he had a beard.

The convict had been murdered, not Sir Henry as we'd feared.

The convict wore Sir Henry's clothes; his sister passed them on,

And that had caused his awful death, why he'd been set upon.

The death was still a tragedy, as any death would be,

But considering his crimes, no-one deserved it more than he.

And as we thought to move the body, Stapleton came by,

Explaining he had also heard the dreadful, haunting cry.

He hurried to the body with a look of fear and dread,

Then saw it was a stranger, not Sir Henry who was dead.

He hid his disappointment well and asked us what we knew,

To check if having heard the cries, we heard the howling too.

So Holmes informed him of his plans to take a morning train,

He was tired of chasing legends and had no wish to remain.

We headed back, the two of us, across the silvered moor,

Aware we faced a challenge we had never faced before.

Our evidence was smoke and mist, the danger very real,

We know we'd never had a foe more worthy of our steel.

We met up with Sir Henry, and told part of what occurred,

But about the hound or Stapleton, we did not say a word.

Holmes then stopped and stared as we approached the dining hall,

And asked Sir Henry details of the portraits on the wall.

One was of a cavalier, in velvet and fine lace,

With steel-cold eyes, and thin-lipped mouth, a prim, meek-mannered face.

"Why, that's the wicked Hugo, you've heard of him before!

The cause of all the mischief with the hound upon the moor!"

After we had dined, and when Sir Henry left the room,

Holmes led me to the portraits, shone a candle through the gloom.

He asked what I had noticed, then he stood upon a chair,

And covered up Sir Hugo's hat and long ringletted hair.

At once I caught his meaning, it was clear as it could be,

I saw the villain, Stapleton, now staring down at me.

The fellow was a Baskerville! A motive found at last!

We'd have him in our net before another night had passed.

The case was near its climax, we prepared to see it through,

The next day, Holmes rose early; he had many things to do.

He told the Princetown jail about the convict's tragic fate,

We needed then Sir Henry's trust, in setting up our bait.

We told him we must leave that day, were due in town instead,

He had to do what Holmes required, exactly as he said.

He had an invitation to the Stapletons that day,

We told him to arrive by trap, but not return that way.

He'd walk back home across the moor, he had to make that clear,

And if he used our route he would have nothing there to fear.

We headed for the London train, Sir Henry looked bereft.

But we sent the urchin in our place, to prove that we had left.

A telegram awaited us, a note from Scotland Yard,

Complete with unsigned warrant, from Inspector G. Lestrade.

Holmes then told Frankland`s daughter, she had been a victim too,

That Stapleton was married, and to tell us all she knew.

We showed her proof, and saw her face, and knew that we had won,

Confirmed the note to meet Sir Charles was planned by Stapleton.

She'd stayed away at his request, when Charles had met his fate,

His betrayal was now clear to her, much wiser far too late.

The London train's arrival was the next thing on our list.

We waited for Lestrade, then filled him in on what he'd missed.

And as we travelled through the dark, across the lonely moor,

I wondered what the night would bring, what perils lay in store.

end of part three- almost a cliffhanger! ( if there is any one reading who does not know the story already :) )