EPISODE 5:

THE HOUNDS OF DERPVILLE


"C'mon, c'mon!" John said, clapping his hands together as he spoke. "Let's get a move on! You don't want to be late on your first day!" When neither occupants of the room budged, the doctor let out a sigh and came over to shake Emily by her shoulder, the girl still wrapped tightly beneath her sheets.

"Nnnnnnooooo," Emily grumbled unhappily. "I refuse to become a fully functioning member of society before at least nine in the morning."

"Sorry but you're going to have to get over that sooner or later," John said, throwing back Emily's covers. Emily let out a high pitched screech and pulled herself into a tight ball, her pillow held tightly over her head.

"Never. Mornings are evil."

Now John came over to Scottie and abruptly flipped his mattress up, knocking the boy out of it and sending him rolling onto the bedroom floor.

"Fuck youuuuu!" Scottie moaned just as he hit the ground. "Oof!"

"I'm coming back down here in ten minutes and if you're not dressed by then I'm donating your breakfasts to Sherlock's homeless network," John threatened.

Emily popped her head up from behind her pillow with an exaggerated frown. "Ten minutes?" she repeated. "This masterpiece takes more than ten minutes to prepare! It's not just picking out an outfit, but I still have to wash my face and brush my hair and put on makeup and-"

"You're quite literally my least favorite person right now!" Scottie called out over her, his face still planted into the carpet. John didn't answer either of them in favor of retrieving his coffee mug from where he'd set it down on one of their bedside tables and then exiting 221C.

Emily grunted something inaudible and probably not PG13 into her pillow before flopping over the side of her bed and joining Scottie on the floor. John wasn't true to his word about checking back in in ten, but Scottie and Emily were ultimately capable of stumbling upstairs in a little less than twice that amount of time. There they found John waiting for them at the kitchen table with his cup of coffee and a newspaper. Sherlock wasn't around, so they assumed he was still in his own room sleeping.

"You're pushing it on time," John sang upon seeing them enter the room.

"Time isn't the only thing of mine that's being pushed," Scottie grunted.

"Shush. I made you pancakes. Real pancakes - not those thick stacks you Americans are so fond of."

"Oh, you mean crepes," Emily said, pulling out a chair for herself.

"I really don't."

Scottie leaned over the table as if he were searching for something. After a couple moments of this he leaned back again looking disappointed. "Where's the syrup?"

John tilted his head with a tense smile. "You're supposed to eat them with sugar and lemon. Both of which I've already put out in front of you."

"Brits are fuckin' weird," Emily muttered, taking a bite from her plate. "Mm. Not half bad though. I didn't know you could cook?"

"They were brought up from Speedy's," the doctor admitted quietly.

"Cheater, cheater."

They continued to eat their breakfast for another ten minutes or so, John routinely checking his watch the entire time. When he finally decided that they were done, the man took away their nearly finished plates right from under Scottie and Emily and set the dishes down on the counter behind himself. John then handed the complaining children their bags and ushered them out of the kitchen. He stopped just before the hallway stairs, pulling Emily back by her shoulder.

"Now hang on a tic, missy," the man started, "just what do you think you're wearing?"

"Clothes," Emily threw back with a straight face.

"Emily."

"A sweater?" the girl tried again.

"I thought the point of a jumper was to keep warm?"

"It is warm."

Unable to keep his cool any longer, John threw his arms out to the side in exasperation. "Your entire back side is exposed!"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Fashion, Johnny-boy. Look it up."

"Go change," John insisted.

Now it was Scottie's turn to look mildly annoyed. "Oh, God forbid anyone see the poor girl's lower back," he drawled. "All the boys in her class might get distracted from their schoolwork."

"No, no, he's right. I'll just pop back into 221C and throw something else on. I was thinking one of those sheer floral prints - you know, the ones you can see my entire bra through? Oh! Or perhaps that purple and white tie dye looking one with the cut and tied back together pattern going down both sides?"

"Alright that's enough," John barked, giving them both a nudge forward. "We're in a hurry as it is. But don't think that I'm okay with this sort of thing."

The three of them exited the building and piled into a taxi, which took them to the high school, located less than fifteen minutes away from Baker Street.

"In the forever immortalized words of General Buttfuckingnaked, dees ees bullsheet," Emily said, stepping out of the cab in front of the school.

John threw Emily a harsh look. "It's not bullshit, it's the law."

"It is bullshit or you wouldn't've wait almost two years to deal with it," Scottie argued.

"This isn't up for discussion. You have your schedules, Mrs. Hudson packed you each a lunch, and Sherlock and I are going to be away for a few days so we better not receive any phone calls from the head teacher, you hear?"

"Yes Mom," Scottie and Emily grumbled, heads hung.

"Well?" John crossed his arms and nodded towards the secondary school campus in front of them. "Better hurry up or you're going to be late for your first day."

"Ugh fine bye," Emily grunted, not moving just yet.

"Bye."

But John didn't budge either. Scottie looked him up and down. "You're… not going to walk us in, are you?"

"No, " the man answered, "but I know you both, and I'm not leaving until I know you're through those gates."

"I hope you get attacked by that big scary dog you're after," Emily hissed, taking Scottie by the crook of his arm and pulling him forward with her. She continued to go into the school, turning a sharp corner as soon as she passed a wall that blocked John from view.

Her friend jerked back, releasing himself from her grasp. "You're seriously going through with this? Regular classes and everything?"

"Of course not," Emily threw back, pulling her one-strapped backpack further up her shoulder where it had been slipping from. "I didn't travel all the way here from a different continent in an alternate universe just to wind up back in public school. Sherlock and John are about to embark on the Baskerville case and we're not missing it for the world."

"Then why are we still here?"

"Because we're waiting for John to leave." The two of them peaked their heads out around the corner just in time to see John get back into the taxi and disappear down the block. "See?" Emily said, grinning at Scottie.

"Being in a fictional world has definitely changed you from the optimistic goody-two-shoes I once knew," Scottie pointed out, stepping out and shaking his head.

No sooner had they started to exit the campus when they were stopped by a security guard.

"And just where do you two think you're off to?"

"We, um…" Emily looked around. "I forgot my cell phone in my dad's car," she lied. "I was hoping to catch him again before it's too late. He's just across the street, I swear."

"He can come and bring it to you here," the security guard bellowed.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "And, pray tell, how exactly am I supposed to tell him to come over here without my phone?"

The guard nodded to Scottie. "Doesn't he have one you can borrow?"

"No," Emily said quickly.

"Tough luck then, kiddo." A long tone that was apparently the school's bell system went off. The security guard shifted his gaze up for a moment before looking back at Scottie and Emily. "You should probably get a move. Don't wanna be late for class."

Emily exhaled unhappily and stormed off further into the school, Scottie hurrying to keep up with her. "Okay so what's Plan B? There's gotta be a Plan B. C'mon, what is it?" the boy pressed. His face fell with realization when Emily continued to not answer him. "Oh my God. There's isn't a Plan B, is there?"

Seven long and tedious hours passed before the school bell rang one final time for the day and they were released. Scottie and Emily left through the same front gate they'd come in though, making small talk about their less than exciting classes and the other students they definitely wouldn't be becoming friends with anytime soon.

"Hang on, I'm gonna text Mrs. Hudson and see if she's on her way," Emily said, stopping outside the school and leaning her back against the gate as she pulled out her pink phone.

Scottie took a seat in front of the gate at Emily's side. "I'm having violent war flashbacks," he sighed. "So far, this is the worst day of my life!" Scottie threw his head back in utter despair. "And that's including the times I was abducted by Chinese smugglers, watched my bestie get shot, and accidentally choked on a fly and temporarily forgot who I was."

Emily turned her head very slowly, squinting. "One of these is not like the other."


"I hate being right about doubting you."

"You weren't right."

"Sure I was. I can't even begin to tell you how many flaws there are in your Plan B."

"Stop worrying," sighed Emily. "I said it before, and I will again: I've already thought everything out. Which car we'll be looking out for, during which time slot it should come by..."

"That's assuming he comes by this way at all! And what if he doesn't stop for us? Or even see us? What then?" questioned Scottie.

"Then... we're admittedly screwed?"

Scottie dropped to his knees dramatically. "Yup. This is exactly how I want to die. Stranded by a single road in the middle of nowhere with you and your stupid 'idea'! Why can't we just call John and tell him what happened? He'll come and get us. Probably."

"Um. Because he'll be hella pissed?"

"He's going to be hella pissed either way! They left us behind for a reason."

"I recognize the council has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid-ass decision, we've elected to ignore it." Emily folded her arms and joined Scottie in the dirt. "And trust me, this has to work. The cab driver said this is as far out of the city as he can go, but it's also the only logical route to Baskerville."

"Grimpon," Scottie corrected. "Grimpon is the village in Dartmoor. The Baskerville Research Facility is located within Grimpon."

"...okay whatever, smartypants. Point is, we know that Lestrade arrives a day after Sherlock and John, so at some point Lestrade's going to come this way, and I'm assuming his moral compass will keep him from leaving us stranded like this."

Scottie huffed. "I know. But I still would've felt better if you'd just talked Molly into letting us borrow her car like I suggested."

"Too risky. She might have confirmed with Sherlock and John first. This way, even if Lestrade does find out we lied to him, there's nothing he can really do about it. I mean, it's not like he's going to take us all the way back into the city."

"Okay, okay. I'm just saying."

Scottie and Emily were currently sitting alongside a single highway entirely surrounded by dirt, large rocks, and the occasional patch of dry grass. It was the day after Sherlock and John had departed on their case, and after Mrs. Hudson had dropped the teens off a block away from the school, Scottie and Emily almost immediately hopped into a taxi headed the opposite direction. Over an hour passed since they'd gotten out here and only a handful of cars had gone by after that, but none of them belonged to Lestrade. (Hopefully.)

Emily strummed her fingers along her cheek, hunched over and cross-legged. "I spy with my little eye, something... tan."

Scottie was sprawled out on his back, which was undoubtedly covered in powdery dirt. The boy next to her raised an eyebrow. "Is it another rock?" he sighed.

"Okay, but more specifically?"

He sat upright and shook his shirt off. "Are you shitting me?" But because he has nothing better to do, Scottie humored her anyway: "Uh... is it the rock in front of us? Kinda shaped like an asymmetrical boob job?"

This went on for some time until, after what felt like ages, a police vehicle came whizzing by. Scottie and Emily lept up and began waving their arms about and shouting, but the car passed, leaving them both coughing in a dusty cloud. Just as they were starting to worry about this, however, the police car came skidding to a halt and then pulled up next to them in reverse. A dark window lowered to reveal none other than Detective Inspector Lestrade in the driver's seat.

"Bloody hell," the older man groaned, lifting a pair of sunglasses to the top of his head. "Alright. Let's hear it. What sort of trouble have you kids gotten yourselves into now and just how much am I going to regret getting you out of it?"

Emily pursed her lips together and shifted her eyes over to Scottie. The boy cleared his throat. "Well, you see, officer, Sherlock and John took up a case out in Grimpon and wanted us to stay behind and take care of… something before joining them ourselves," he lied.

"And you made it out this far by yourselves because…?"

"Apparently this is as far outside of London as the cab service taxis to."

Scottie got a chuckle out of the pun from Emily's end, but Lestrade merely rolled his eyes. He pressed a button at the side of the car and there was a loud clicking sound as the back doors unlocked. "Luckily for you kids, I'm headed to Dartmoor anyway. And I probably owe Sherlock a favor or two as it is. So… just get in before I change my mind."

The teens thanked Lestrade repeatedly and shoved their way past one another into the back of the car. While starting the thing up again he then instructed them to send the others a text letting them know that they were alright and on their way (which they of course didn't). The remainder of the ride was then spent mostly by annoying Lestrade with various roadtrip games and camp songs. More than twice the man had requested that the passengers sit still and keep quiet, but this was, of course, ignored. After an hour or so of this Lestrade finally let out a defeated sigh and reluctantly adopted a new "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" mindset.

"Oh, I wish I were a little slice of orange," Emily sang from behind him to the tune of If You're Happy and You Know It.

"Slice of orange!" echoed the two males enthusiastically.

"Oh, I wish I were a little slice of orange!" the girl repeated.

"Slice of orange!"

"I'd go squirty squirty squirty over everybody's shirt-y, oh, I wish I were a little slice of orange!"

"Slice of orange!"

Emily took a deep breath and repeated the tune into the next verse: "Oh, I wish I were a little radio!"

"Radio!"

"Oh, I wish I were a little radio!"

"RADIO!"

"I'd go click!"

The song ended abruptly and all three of them sat in silence for a brief moment before erupting into laughter. As the giggles died down, the trio now realized they were just coming into Grimpon. "Alright, so do you know where you two were supposed to be meeting Sherlock and John?" Lestrade asked.

"Um. I think it was an inn."

"...do you by any chance recall a name?"

"How many inns do you really think there are around here?"

The man frowned. "Well, I'm staying at the Cross Keys Pub. So I can drop you off there."

"Perfect," Scottie nodded. "That actually does sound about right."

In a few minutes they pulled into a little parking lot beside the Cross Keys Pub, the quaint little inn that Sherlock and John primarily used as their base during the original episode. Scottie and Emily hadn't brought many of their things with them, just a backpack each with a couple changes of clothing, toiletries, and pajamas, and so Lestrade put them to work helping bring in his luggage bags from the back of the police car to the inn's lobby.

"Lestrade," the Detective Inspector informed the man at the front desk. "Greg Lestrade."

The receptionist scanned his eyes through a long list on a clipboard, gave the three of them a once-over, frowned and looked back at his list, and then looked up once more. "I only have you booked as a single," he finally said.

"What? Oh, no! I, uh… They're not with me. I mean, they are technically, but they're not mine. They're not staying with me, that is."

The other man raised an eyebrow but shrugged and continued. Lestrade scratched the back of his head and turned to Scottie and Emily. "Uh, do you think you should call them? Let them know you're here?"

"Oh, right, of course," Emily answered. She pulled out the pink phone she'd taken possession of from the last season and went into the actual pub section of the place.

"Hey, are we technically allowed in here?" asked Scottie, bobbing after her.

"Who cares? There's only one police officer in the immediate vicinity and we're already with him." Emily waited for a minute before hanging up. "No answer," she muttered.

"Well? Are they here?" Lestrade demanded, joining them. Suddenly distracted, he went up to the counter and began ordering himself a drink.

"Well speak of the devil," Scottie smiled, nodding towards the entrance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" another voice bellowed from the pub's entrance. The others looked up to see a familiar face practically lunging towards them with loud, heavy steps.

"Well, nice to see you too!" Lestrade greeted Sherlock. "I'm on a holiday, would you believe?"

"No, I wouldn't," the detective retorted. "And I thought John put you two in school?"

"That I did," confirmed John. He now approached the bar as well. "Signed all the paperwork, walked them in and everything!"

Scottie shrugged. "I don't know, high school just seemed rather insignificant in light of proving a man sane by uncovering the truth about his father's murder."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be ones uncovering it! That's what Sherlock and I are here for!"

Lestrade removed his sunglasses and gave the troublemakers an incredulous look. "I can't believe you lied to me!" Beat. "Well, actually I rather can and sort of expected as much. But I'm equally shocked and appalled that it worked."

"I don't believe it." John rubbed at his face. "Not only did you deliberately disobey me, you went and dragged the Detective Inspector into it as well!"

"I don't see what the big deal is," Emily rolled her eyes. "We're practically adults. Technically we're old enough to not even be in high school anymore, and even if we were, what's the point in randomly going for a couple months and then graduating?"

Lestrade shook his head. "No, I agree with John on this one. It's important that children get an education, and… and that sort of thing. But what's this about proving a man sane? Scottie and Emily mentioned that you guys were on a case up here. Is that what it's about? You after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?"

"I'm still waiting for an explanation, Inspector." Sherlock retorted. "I already know that the kids have an unhealthy fascination with rule breaking and sticking their noses into places where they don't belong for the sake of the thrill, but what's your excuse? Why are you here? Or were you that easily overcome by the batting of their eyelashes?"

"I told you: I'm on a holiday."

"You're brown as a nut. You've clearly just got back from your 'holidays'."

The Detective Inspector made a face. "Yeah, well… I fancied another one."

"Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?" John chimed in.

"No, look…"

"Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to… to spy on me incognito. Nice touch with the youngers, I'll give him that one. Try and make it look like they're the masterminds behind the whole scheme. Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?"

Now it was John's turn to make a face at Sherlock. "...that's his name."

"Is it?" the consulting detective frowned.

"Yes, if you ever bothered to find out," Lestrade practically said through gritted teeth. The man turned away and retrieved the beer that he had ordered from the bar. "Look, I'm not your handler," he continued, "and I don't just do whatever your brother tells me."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "So it is the kids, then? What does that make you, their babysitter? Or the other way around?"

"Shut it."

"Actually, you could be just the man we want," John interjected.

"Why?"

"Well, I've not been idle, Sherlock. I think I may have found something." John rummaged through his pockets for a moment and pulled forth a slip of paper, which he turned at an angle to show Sherlock. "Here. Didn't know if it was relevant; starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant."

"Excellent."

"So we're not in trouble any more?" Scottie asked hopefully.

"Oh, you're both definitely grounded when we get back into London," John told him. "But right now there are more important things to worry about."

Not too long after this conversation, Lestrade had migrated to a table to look through some paperwork with the establishment's chef and manager. Meanwhile Sherlock had made himself busy preparing a cup of coffee from a machine, which he then brought over to John.

"What's this?" the other man asked, glancing up.

"Coffee," Sherlock told him. "I made coffee."

"You never make coffee."

"I just did. Don't you want it?"

"You don't have to keep apologizing," John told him.

"He's like an adorable puppy looking for love and affection," Scottie whispered to Emily.

She turned her head to him with one raised eyebrow. "I'm… not entirely sure those are the words I'd use, but."

"Thanks." John took the mug reluctantly and had a sip. He made a face at it. "Mm. I don't take sugar…" Sherlock looked hurt by this gesture, which John tried to make better by continuing to sip at the drink regardless of his personal preference.

"See?" Scottie said with a nod.

"Is that when you had the idea, after the TV show went out?" Lestrade was asking the two men seated across from him.

"It's me," the first man said. "It was me." He turned to his partner, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry, Gary. I couldn't help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Cal's wedding and one thing led to another…"

"That's almost exactly what happened with my sister," Emily said half to herself.

"Nice try." Lestrade, like many of the other's in the room, didn't believe the guy's story.

"Look, we were just trying to give things a bit of boost, you know?" Gary tried. "A great big dog run wild up on the moor - it was heaven-sent. It was like us having our own Loch Ness Monster."

"Where do you keep it?" asked the DI.

"There's an old mineshaft. It's not too far. It was all right there."

"Was?" Sherlock echoed from behind the group.

"We couldn't control the bloody thing," Gary went on with a sigh. "It was-"

Suddenly there was a high pitched screech and loud thud. All heads turned to Emily and Scottie to see that the table they'd been seated at was now lying on its side and both teenagers were standing up around it.

"That was all Scottie," Emily said, breaking the uneasy silence that followed.

"There was a huge spider," whimpered Scottie. He looked down guiltily. His eyes then widened and he let out a loud yelp. "OH MY GOD THERE IT IS AGAIN!" The boy picked up the stool he'd been previously sitting on and held it out in front of him like a weapon, using it to drive the bug further away from himself. "BACK!" he kept yelling out. "BACK FOUL BEAST! BACK FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!"

John's face was turning red now. "Scottie! For the love of… Scottie, you knock that off right now!"

"No," the boy threw back defiantly. "Captain Sockarms does what he wants."

"Captain Sockarms fights like my sister," Emily said with a slight chuckle.

Scottie smirked. "I fought your sister - that's a compliment!"

"It's really not," the girl answered, smile fading. "Do you know how many times I've successfully pinned her to the ground?"

"Yeah, but what about heartlessly exploiting weaknesses?" Without much more of a warning than that, Scottie prodded Emily right in the boob with the leg of his stool.

"Oi!" she let out, smacking the piece of furniture back.

The doctor crossed his arms and threw an incredulous look at Sherlock. The other man merely shrugged. "This is your fault," John accused. "Control your son."

"Oh so now he's my son? He was your son when he was painting pretty pictures all over the flat!"

"Exactly. He's yours when he does STUPID SHIT and DOESN'T LISTEN TO ME."

"Hm I wonder where he gets that from," Emily said softly with a sidelong glance at Sherlock.

"He'd be sitting in class right now if you were a better parent," Sherlock hissed.

"Alright, that's enough," John said, taking the stool from Scottie and setting it down. "I'm sorry," he told the others. He bent over to pick up the table Scottie had knocked over, apologizing not once but twice more on Scottie's behalf.

Lestrade swallowed. "Um. Right. So, uh, back to the thing about the dog…"

"Oh, Of course," Gary said, blinking. "Well, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and, er… you know."

"It's dead?" John asked, dusting off his hands and looking up.

"Put down."

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "No choice. So it's over."

"It was a just a joke, you know?"

"Yeah, hilarious!" Lestrade threw back sarcastically. The man stood up and looked down at them angrily. "You've nearly driven a man out of his mind." Lestrade stood up then and stormed out of the room, Gary and Billy staring after him in a guilt-filled silence.

"You two drive me out of my mind near every day," John said under his breath.

"Impossible," Scottie disagreed. "I've been told I'm a pleasure to have in class."

John didn't have any appropriate way to respond to this, and so he didn't instead choosing to march after Lestrade in an equally ticked off manner. Scottie looked at Emily and shrugged. No one spoke after the two men had left. Sherlock peered into John's coffee mug and then trailed after them, the kids in tow. They found John and Lestrade talking just outside the pub.

"So, you believe him about having the dog destroyed?" Lestrade asked Sherlock as soon as he came up to them.

"No reason not to."

"Well, hopefully there's no harm done. Not quite sure what I'd charge him with anyway. I'll have a word with the local force."

"Hey, if you're planning on going back into Baskerville, we're coming too," Scottie announced.

Sherlock shook his head. "Absolutely not. Not that it's any of your business whether we go back in or not, the research facility is no place for children."

"Are we going back, though?" asked John.

"Well, since you've mentioned it, I actually have got a theory that can only be tested once we're back in there."

"Children?" echoed Emily in disbelief. "Are we seriously back to this bullshittery? We're eighteen. And on top of that, Scottie and I have already been present at several crime scenes, as well as survived more than one shootout. What do you think can possibly go wrong? It's just a giant lab. No one's even gonna be there but us."

"And quite possibly a 'gigantic hound,'" muttered John.

Scottie rolled his eyes. "You don't seriously still buy that crap, do you?"

John frowned. "Well... We're still looking into it, okay? Lestrade, I don't suppose you'd mind keeping an eye on them both while we're out? Keep them out of trouble."

"No way!" Lestrade, Scottie, and Emily all said at once said at once. The three of them exchanged glances.

"Please," begged John. "I'll pay you. That's what people normally do, right?"

"...I'm listening."

"Now hang on a minute, I think we have a say in this," Emily protested.

"I'm positive that you don't. Must every conversation we have end in me reminding you just how much trouble you two are in?"

The girl placed a single hand on her hip, which she cocked out to the side defiantly. "Well, maybe if we didn't overreact at every little thing we did-"

"How much are talking? I am on a holiday here, you know," Lestrade interrupted.

John shrugged. "I don't know. We'll talk later."

"Hello, brother dear. How are you?" Sherlock said into a mobile in his most manipulative voice, having stepped some ways away from the others as they bickered.

"I don't believe this," Scottie whined, slumping his shoulders forward.

"And you think I'm any happier with this situation?" Lestrade asked, folding his arms.

"Well. John's offered to pay you for your quote-on-quote 'services', so… yeah. Yeah, I think you are."


Sherlock and John did eventually set out for the research facility without the company of Scottie and Emily, and that night the three that had stayed behind had dinner together at the Cross Keys and then went back to Lestrade's hotel room, as not only had they not been left the keys to the other boys', but Lestrade also didn't trust either of them to stay in a room by themselves given the circumstances. A part of Lestrade suspected that, even if he were to stand guard outside, they'd still manage a way of sneaking out the bathroom window or something.

And so, Lestrade sat down at the edge of his own hotel bed and shifted his eyes from Scottie to Emily.

"Look, we all know I'm not entirely down for the whole babysitting thing either," he told the teenagers, who were currently giving him the silent treatment. "I'm supposed to be on a bloody holiday, not stuck here with you two!"

"Should've thought about that before you agreed to keep us here while Sherlock and John went off to do all the fun stuff," Emily said under her breath.

"Fun? Searching for some, uh… some weird government conspiracy isn't fun. I know fun. And that isn't it."

Scottie raised a skeptical brow. "Do you now?"

"Sure," the man grunted. "Do you. Uh. Think we should play a board game, or...?"

"...okay yeah fuck this 'babysitting' nonsense."

Emily snatched up her jacket and made for the door. Lestrade stiffened.

"N-Now hold on just a minute, Sherlock and John specifically told me to make sure you stayed on the premises. Where are you going?"

Emily touched the door handle but didn't turn it just yet. "Out," the girl answered with as much sass as she could muster up.

"Actually I have been meaning to test out that fake ID I made," Scottie said calmly.

The Detective Inspector suddenly looked overwhelmed. "What? No. Don't be like that. I know the second I let you out of my site you devils are going to go running right off to that spooky research facility, and then anything that goes wrong is pinned on me. You have to stay in this room. That's non-negotiable."

Emily rolled her eyes dramatically, throwing her neck back in the process. "Puh-lease! You couldn't keep us here if you wanted to."

Lestrade frowned. "I'll have you know, young lady, I was trained in special forces combat."

"Well aren't you a special snowflake."

"Don't either of you open that door," Lestrade warned.

"Or what?" purred Emily as Scottie joined her at the end of the room. Famous last words indeed.


"Not. A. Word."

"...I wasn't going to say anything."

"But you were thinking it."

Scottie snickered and looked away. He and Emily were currently handcuffed together with one of their arms raised above their heads, the chain hung over the bar holding up the hotel room's shower curtain.

"I will kick you," Emily threatened.

"Sorry. Sorry."

Scottie took a couple deep breaths to keep himself from laughing. Once he'd quieted himself, the duo stood in contemplative silence for some time. Eventually Emily began tugging at the bar.

"Here, help me pull on it," she urged.

"Um. What are you...?"

"What does it look like? If we can snap the bar off of the wall we can slide out and getting out of these will be a hell of a lot easier."

Scottie looked up at where the shower bar connected to the bathroom wall. "Lestrade is gonna be hella pissed at the bill," he murmured.

"And it'll serve him right, ganging up on a couple of kids like this!"

"Oh, so now we're 'kids'."

"Are you helping or not?!"

With a sigh Scottie joined Emily in yanking at the bar with both arms. This went on for several minutes without it budging.

"Okay, so this place is a little better built than my old apartment," she sighed in defeat.

"Oh! The pointy metal thingies!" gasped Scottie. "Give me one of your pointy metal thingies!"

"My what?"

"The ones you put in your hair!"

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Could you by any chance be referring to bobby pins?"

Scottie nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yes, exactly. Those things. Give me one and maybe I can pick the lock with it. That's how all the badass chicks do it in the movies, right?"

"What the hell makes you think I have bobby pins on me?"

"Don't you?" Scottie looked confused. "I thought all girls carried around an excess of bobby pins. It's, like, the law."

"The film industry has lied to you, my friend. I pretty much never wear bobby pins."

"You're useless, then!" Scottie let out in dismay.

The teens grew quiet again. "Hang on, do you think you could squeeze out of them?" Emily suddenly asked.

"Don't you think I would've tried that already?"

"In theory, I mean. With something like lotion."

Scottie met her eyes with a curious look. "Lotion? In that case, maybe, but where are we gonna get..." The boy's eyes widened as he finally began to catch on. Emily nodded with a sly smile. "Oh! Lotion! You're brilliant! Can you reach it, though?"

"Watch and learn."

Emily kicked off a shoe and used her free hand to pull off its sock. She then put all of her weight onto the bar she was secured to and stepped onto the closed toilet lid. With her bare foot the girl reached as far as she could across the bathroom counter, with Scottie chanting "c'mon c'mon" all the while. After what felt like much longer than it really was she managed to grab a tiny bottle of hotel lotion between her toes and hopped one-footed back down.

With a triumphant grunt, Emily traded off the bottle from her foot to her free hand and used that to untwist the lid and drop it on the tile floor. She then passed it off to her other hand to squeeze a glob of lotion into her palm just before the entire thing slipped out of her grasp. Scottie watched with interest as she then reached up and rubbed the lotion between the two hands and as far down her wrist as she could get. Emily looked quite silly trying to wriggle her handcuffed arm free, but eventually she was able to do so and fell to the bathroom floor along with a thud.

Scottie also came toppling down as soon as her weight was no longer on the other side of the cuffs, and he tripped backwards into the tub.

"Ouch," Emily winced, rubbing at her hand.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just cut myself on the metal, that's all. But at least it was worth it." She picked up the lotion bottle and screwed the lid back on, tossing it to Scottie, who caught the thing with one hand.

Luckily not too much of it had spilled out when the bottle hit the floor, and he immediately got to work on freeing himself the rest of the way. Scottie glanced up in the middle of doing this to see Emily grinning back at him stupidly. "What're you so smug about?" he demanded.

"You called me brilliant," she answered in a sing-song voice.

Now Scottie couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it," he chuckled. With a final pull Scottie was out of the handcuff. "Ha! Take that, Lestrade! Your filthy cuffs are no match for Captain Sockarms and… um… We never did give you a superhero name, did we?"

"No, and we aren't going to."

Scottie grinned mischieviously. "You sure about that… Cadet Lotionwrists?"

Emily looked as if she were about to get mad but changed her mind suddenly. She folded her arms in contemplation. "Actually… that does kind of have a nice ring to it. So what's the plan now, Captain?"

"Let's try to catch up with them at Baskerville," Scottie said decisively.

"Great idea! But isn't it, y'know… all locked up with security and whatnot?"

The boy shrugged indifferently. "If worse comes to worse we'll set off the alarms and Sherlock and John will come and find us themselves. It's a win/win."

"If you say so. But it's gonna be a hell of a long walk, unless…" Emily came into the bedroom again. Lestrade had long since left the hotel room. The girl circled the room several times, looking around and through the empty drawers. Scottie raised an eyebrow.

"Uh. What are you looking for?"

"Lestrade's car keys," Emily explained, straightening. "We can't exactly call a cab here."

"He's not the brightest man in the history of everything, but Lestrade isn't dumb either. He took his keys with him."

"Whelp. That's gonna make this a helluva lot harder." Emily passed Scottie and exited the room. The boy followed after her. The troublemakers popped their heads into the inn's lounge, where right away they spotted the DI sitting by himself in an armchair and facing the fireplace. He had a drink in one hand and keys set down on a little table beside him. Emily grinned. "Bingo. Okay Scottie, now's your chance. Go take the keys."

Scottie snapped his neck around at his accomplice. "What? No! You do it, it's your idea!"

With a disappointed sigh, Emily crept forward. Scottie bit at his lip nervously and clung to the doorframe, watching her as she slowly came up behind Lestade's chair and picked up the keys, gripping them tightly so they didn't jingle. Emily had been holding her breath the entire time and didn't release said breath until she'd quickly tiptoed all the way back to Scottie and then ducked around the corner.

"Oh man we are SO unbelievably beyond grounded when we get back," Scottie squealed. Emily promptly shushed him and nodded her head towards the way out.


Once Lestrade's car was parked in front of Baskerville, Scottie and Emily got out and cautiously approached the facility. An insanely high gate circled the entire perimeter. The teens stopped in front of it and stared up with wide eyes.

Scottie swallowed. "So um. Maybe we should've invested in some wire cutters…"

"I could probably climb that," Emily said. "Probably. Might fall and cut up my knees but y'know. That's the price you pay for heroism."

Scottie tapped Emily on the shoulder and pointed. "Oh hey, we might not need to after all." Emily followed his gesture towards the entrance to the building itself, which Sherlock, John, and a woman they hadn't been personally introduced to were just exiting.

"Oh thank God," Emily breathed.

"Ditto. Because I'm gonna be perfectly honest here, I was not down to deal with your broken leg after you climbed over the top and lost your footing."

Emily glared daggers back at Scottie. The others seemed to be saying goodbye, as the woman then went back inside and the boys turned to leave. Scottie and Emily grinned obnoxiously and waved to them as soon as they were looking forward. Sherlock and John ran over in a matter of seconds and opened the gate.

"I thought I told you to stay with Lestrade!" snapped Sherlock.

"Are we really going to have this discussion?" Scottie asked skeptically. "How long have you known us, again? And of that time, how many times, exactly, did we ever stay put when you wanted us to?"

"What vehicle is that, anyway?" asked John.

"Lestrade's car."

"YOU STOLE LESTRADE'S CAR?"

"Borrowed," Scottie corrected. "With the full intention of returning it."

"John, we don't have time to deal with this right now," Sherlock pressed, although he didn't sound happy about the situation either. "We have to get to Dewer's Hollow as quickly as possible."

"Lestrade can't meet us there if they stole his car though," John reminded him.

"Borrowed!"

The doctor clenched his fists angrily. "Oh, you shut it, mister! You are in for a world of trouble when this is all over with!"

"Oh yeah I'm totally scared," yawned Scottie.

"I wanna drive us!" Emily let out excitedly.

"What? No!" huffed John. "Absolutely not! Not only is it illegal for you to drive us-"

"She and Scottie can return Lestrade's car so that he can meet up with us," instructed Sherlock. "You and I will go to Dewer's Hollow and not waste any more time reprimanding them. Got it?"

"Hell to the no!" pouted Emily. "If we go there Lestrade is going to kill us! And then he won't let us come with him!"

Scottie nodded. "She's actually got a point. Can I ride with you guys?"

"Traitor!"

"No," Sherlock and John said simultaneously.

Emily folded her arms and stepped in between the two of them. "Okay, so here's how this is going to go down: I have Lestrade's car keys. I'm going to give them to one of you, and said person will pick up Lestrade. The other goes with Scottie and I to Dewer's Hollow and I DRIVE. Capiche?"

"No," they said again.

"Okay then," the girl shrugged. "In that case Lestrade doesn't get his car back and if you really want him to tag along you're going to have to pick him up yourself. And hope that Henry doesn't do something particularly reckless in the time you wasted doing that." Emily took out the keys to show the boys and dangled them for a moment before starting to tuck them back into her pocket.

"You little shit!" John hissed, lunging forward in an attempt to snatch the keys away. Emily shrieked and tossed them to Scottie, who wasn't prepared for the action and let them hit the ground first before picking them up himself.

"Okay fine! You win! Let's just get going!" Sherlock practically screamed, taking out his own set of car keys and chucking them at Emily so that they hit her in the head. Emily yelped upon impact but otherwise didn't complain about her victory. John let out a frustrated grumble and came over to Scottie, snatching Lestrade's keys from him. Looking pleased with herself, Emily hurried over to their rental and let herself into the front seat while Sherlock and Scottie climbed in after her and John unlocked Lestrade's car.


Somehow they did make it to Dewer's Hollow just in time to find Henry sitting in the middle of the hollow with the barrel of a gun in his mouth.

"No, Henry, no! No!" Sherlock let out, scrambled past Emily and Scottie and down the hill towards Henry. The kids followed after him. Henry stood up and stumbled backwards, waving the pistol in their direction now.

"Get back!" Henry wailed. "Get - Get away from me!"

Scottie and Emily stopped in their tracks, but Sherlock inched forward cautiously.

"I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!"

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Henry," Sherlock tried. "It's all been explained to you, hasn't it? Explained very carefully."

Henry looked confused as ever. "What?"

"Someone needed to keep you quiet. Needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you'd both clung on to, because you had started to remember." Sherlock took another cautious step forward. "Remember now, Henry," he urged. "You've got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy."

Henry's face distorted as he struggled to make sense of it all. "I thought it had got my dad - the hound. I thought.. Oh Je... Oh Jesus, I don't… I don't know anymore!" Henry let out a wail and began sobbing now, doubling over and putting the gun back in his mouth.

"Henry, remember!" Sherlock let out urgently. "Liberty In. Two words. Two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago. You'd started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn't an animal, was it, Henry?" Henry started to straighten again, blinking. "Not a monster," Sherlock went on. "A man." Henry's eyes widened, showing that he was finally realizing what had truly occurred that night. "You couldn't cope. You were just a child, so you rationalized it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped. Driven out of your mind so that no one would believe a word you said."

"Sherlock!" someone called from behind them. Scottie and Emily turned to see John and Lestrade coming down from the top of the hollow, but Sherlock continued towards Henry and carefully took the weapon from him.

"But we saw it," Henry whimpered. "The hound. Last night. We s… We-We-We did; we saw…"

"Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry," Sherlock explained. "Leaving footprints, scaring witnesses. But it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it - saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus: that's how it works. But there never was any monster."

Just then there was the sound of a long and drawn-out howl from somewhere in the woods. The entirety of the group's necks snapped up and John and Lestrade waved their flashlights around at the trees until they spotted a dark figure moving between them.

"Sherlock…" John said weakly.

Henry went pale. "No. No, no, no, no!" The man began backing away. Sherlock held out a hand towards him.

"Henry. Henry…"

"Sherlock," repeated John.

Henry crumpled to the ground, letting out another "No!" Now John said his name.

"Shit," Lestrade muttered, his eyes never leaving the snarling dog.

"It's just a puppy," Scottie told himself. "It's just a cute little innocent puppy that's having a bad day."

"Looks more like a hellhound," whispered Emily. The two of them clearly weren't as afraid of it as the others, having seen the episode before, but it was still difficult not to be a wary of the dog's bared teeth and what appeared to be its glowing red eyes.

The others went on behind the kids:

"Greg, are you seeing this? Right: he is not drugged, Sherlock, so what's that? What is it?"

"Alright! It's still here… but it's just a dog. Henry! It's nothing more than an ordinary dog!"

"Oh my God. Oh, Christ!"

The dog leapt a little ways down the slope now. Scottie took a deep breath and stepped forward. Emily grabbed at his sleeve, stopping him. "What are you doing?" the girl hissed.

"They're going to shoot it, remember?" Scottie shot back. "They won't if I'm there."

"And what if it mauls you first?!"

Scottie shrugged. "It's an animal. You know me. I hate people but I'm weak when it comes to defenseless animals."

"It's not defenseless," Emily protested. "The guys back at the inn said so themselves. It's vicious; they couldn't control it!"

Ignoring her warnings, Scottie ripped out of the girl's grasp and darted forward.

"Scottie!" John yelled, noticing this.

When the boy got close enough to the creature, it seemed to stiffen and stand its ground. It barked at him. Scottie stopped where he was and knelt down, holding out a hand to it.

"Oh my God what is he doing!" John wheezed from just behind Emily. She shushed him.

Sherlock was starting to go into a panic now. "No!" he cried out. "It's not you! You're not here!" Emily glanced over her shoulder, seeing the newcomer he was talking to now: a man dressed in white with a gasmask on. Also the man she knew was responsible for what was happening to them: Frankland.

She looked up again at Scottie and for half a second could've sworn she saw the dog monster ripping him from limb to limb. Emily screamed and she and John ran forward, but as soon as she got there she saw that nothing was really the matter. Their presence made the dog stumble backwards in surprise.

"See? It's friendly," Scottie said, his voice still trembling somewhat. "Once… Once you get past all the horrific demon-like aspects of it. But those will go away once we get out of here."

"The fog," Sherlock was saying.

John turned his head around to look back at him. "What?"

"It's the fog! The drug! It's in the fog! Aerosol dispersal - that's what it said in those records. Project HOUND - it's the fog. A chemical minefield!"

Lestrade immediately threw a hand over his face, trying to keep from breathing too much of the mist without much success.

"For God's sake, kill it!" the man on the ground let out. "Kill it!"

"No!" Scottie shouted, clinging to the dog, which, despite its still terrifying appearance, wasn't behaving nearly as high and mighty as before.

"We should get it back to the main road," suggested Emily. "I'd at least feel a lot better about this whole thing if it didn't look like… Well. That."

Sherlock was at their side suddenly, pulling Henry along by his arm as the other man dug his heels into the dirt. "Look at it, Henry!" the consulting detective was saying.

"No, no, no!"

"Come on, look at it!" Sherlock gave Henry a shove forward.

"He's harmless," Scottie promised. "Just a little shaken up by all the commotion. See?"

"It's just…" Henry stared at the dog silently for some time, his face twisting into ten different emotions before he finally whirled around and came at Frankland. "You bastard. You bastard!" Frankland was knocked to ground a second time, this time by Henry, who was shaking and had gone red in the face. "Twenty years!" Henry hissed. "Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn't you just kill me?!"

He was pulled back by the joint efforts of Sherlock, John, and Lestrade. "Because dead men get listened to," explained Sherlock. "He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet - a chemical minefield. Pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here." Sherlock threw his arms out wide and spun around for effect. "Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once! Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you. It's been brilliant."

"Sherlock," warned John.

Emily elbowed Scottie. "No but seriously. Main road. Stop getting distracted by the rest of the scene."

"Right," Scottie muttered, straightening. "C'mere, boy! C'mere!" The boy patted at his thighs, taking several steps back. The dog was hesitant at first, but followed him ever so slowly. The minute Frankland started to flee the dog got temporarily distracted, but Scottie whistled, calling in its attention once more, and the two of them were eventually able to lead it out of the Dewer's Hollow to where they'd parked the cars.

"Well that was exciting," Emily exhaled. She knelt down to scratch the dog behind its ear. It looked a lot less intimidating now that they were away from the mist and street lamps lit up the area from some ways away. As they suspected, it was just an enormous yet perfectly ordinary black dog. "Who's a good boy?" the girl cooed. "You are! Yes you are!" Already warming up to them, the dog leaned forward and licked her face. "Hey! Das gross!" she giggled, pushing him back and wiping her cheek with the back of a hand.

"Well what do you know," smiled Scottie. "We actually managed to save a life in all of this. I wonder if it's possible to go back to Baskerville and steal Bluebell…"

The dog let out a yawn and rolled onto its back happily. Emily stood up again and crossed her arms. "So what's to become of him now?"

"I dunno. Sherlock might just want him released back into the woods," Scottie guessed, "or maybe put down or something."

"Neither of which I'm okay with," Emily pointed out. "Maybe we could drop it off at a shelter?"

"Or maybe WE could keep it!" gasped Scottie.

"Scottie. No."

"Why the hell not? Look at him, he likes you! He gave you kisses and everything! Isn't that just adorable?"

"Sherlock and John aren't going to like it."

"Unfortunately for them, we're both adults and have our own flat we can keep him in if they're completely against it. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson won't mind."

"Alright, we'll see," Emily gave in. "He is… pretty adorable."

Scottie fist pumped the air energetically. "Aw yee! We're adopting a giant puppy!"

"I said we'll see."

"Quick, let's name him so that we get attached faster. What do you think of Gladstone?"

Emily raised an eyebrow. "But he's not a bulldog."

"So? It'll be funny because Sherlock and John won't get it."

"You're such a strange child."


"And once again, the day is saved, thanks to the joint efforts of Captain Sockarms and Cadet Lotionwrist!" Scottie announced triumphantly, patting Gladstone on the head. The dog barked and he let out a laugh. "Okay, and you too, Superdog."

"Don't get cocky," muttered a rather bitter Sherlock. "It's a miracle you two are even still alive. You would've made things a lot easier, had you just stayed at the inn like I wanted you to. Better yet, you shouldn't have left the city at all!"

Emily pursed her lips together. "Well. Thank you for your input, Attitude Man, but I happen to specifically recall you flipping a shit as soon as those drugs got into your system, just like everyone else."

"There was also a rumor that you broke down crying in public after your first encounter with this so-called gigantic hound," cooed Scottie.

The detective's nostrils flared but he said nothing. John chuckled. "So, hey, how come everyone has a secret crime fighting identity but me?" the doctor asked.

"I am not Attitude Man," hissed Sherlock.

"Yes you are," everyone else corrected.

Scottie put a thoughtful finger to his chin. "Hm. That depends: are you willing to let a couple of young superheroes keep their new sidekick?"

"I suppose that can be arranged," John smiled. "He does seem to be a lot better behaved than Gary and Billy painted him to be. And I have always kind of wanted a dog. It's a lot of responsibility, though. You're both going to have to prove that you can take care of it yourselves."

Sherlock pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Rewarding them for getting in the way is only encouraging it."

"Whelp, that decides it then," Scottie grinned. "You can be Dr. Fun Times!"

"YES!" John fist pumped the air energetically.

With a scowl, Sherlock got up from the bench. "Whatever. I'm going to check us out of the room. You berks can wait here and discuss your superpowers, or braid each other's hair or whatever." The detective whirled around and stormed away from the group then.

"Another classic display from Attitude Man," Emily giggled.

John leaned forward across the table. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think Dr. Fun Times could use a badarse magic healing staff."

"Ooh, I like it! And, hey, can you promise me something?" Emily asked, leaning forward over the table.

John was hesitant now. "What is it?"

"Please don't make us go back to school. Not like this, anyway. We only went to humor you. And, you know, fully intended to ditch on the very first day and come down here."

John chewed on his lower lip for a moment, sitting back on the bench. Gladstone let out a bark and put his chin on the doctor's knee, looking up at the man with wide eyes. John couldn't help but smile a little and bent over to pat the dog on its shoulders.

"We'll talk."