A/N: posted on lj for the prompt "opening the door"
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He opened the door.
The key turned stiffly at first,
Awkward and clumsy in his hand.
Presumably the staff,
Appointed since his last visit,
Habitually used the servants' entrance;
Less formal and less grand.
~0~
No one to greet him;
Hardly surprising as he had taken
Earlier transport than he initially stated.
He was grateful for a moment's peace;
A chance to acclimatise
And to conquer the fear he anticipated.
~0~
The new electric lamps,
Fitted in his absence,
Created an unexpectedly welcoming glow.
He recalled his enthusiasm
For Swan and Edison's incandescent bulbs.
When was it?
Six long months ago.
~0~
One last glance at the dusk-softened
Sweep of heather and rock,
Before he turned away
From the world outside.
A pause,
A deep intake of breath,
And he was over the threshold
In a single, resolute stride.
~0~
Ahead, a large chamber;
Lights illuminated stained glass,
Logs, in the large stone fireplace,
Crackled and burned.
A murmur of excited voices;
The clatter of footsteps on stone,
Coming closer.
Sir Henry,
The master of Baskerville Hall,
Had returned.
~0~