So this is the answer to the sort of cliff-hanger? Last chapter is up! Hope you like it :3 Thank you SO much for all the reviews, favourites and subscriptions. I swear, I do a little dance every time.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, or anything. Can you hear me genie in the bottle?

Sherlock left the tent very early and quietly; after all, he didn't want to wake John up, and he wanted to be in the hollow only when it was day-time, and sunlight riddled through the layers of leaves. He had seen the hound; he was sure of it. His senses never lied to him; but still, he wanted to find evidence. And you want to prove to John that you're not crazy, a nagging voice said at the back of his brain, that's ridiculous. I'm not crazy therefore there is nothing to prove to John, Sherlock replied mentally. He just sighed and continued working. Mycroft had always told him that caring was not an advantage, and he was right.

When he reached the hollow, Sherlock looked around for any evidence whatsoever. Maybe he could use bait? He hesitated for a moment, and then dropped his blue scarf into the hollow.

He walked for a fair bit, and then noticed a huge footprint; this had to be it. He stared into it for a few moments. Sherlock kept gazing at this abnormally large footprint, because there was something wrong about it, something strange. It suddenly hit: there were finger marks on the outside of the print – someone had enlarged an original, much smaller footprint. Two questions were now burning in Sherlock's mind: Who and why? His mind filtered through all the options but it was suddenly interrupted.

Very faintly, he heard a call. That wouldn't have normally been important, but someone was calling his name. Faint as it was, Sherlock would recognise that voice anywhere.

"JOHN!" He shouted. Why was he here? Images of John being torn to pieces by the hound flashed before his eyes and he started to run. Sherlock had never been the sporty type, that was for sure, but he ran as fast as he could.

Sherlock burst into the hollow, rolling down the hill in his impatience to reach John, to find a hunched figure, sobbing into the ground next to a blue scarf; his blue scarf.

"John! Are you okay?" Sherlock demanded, falling down beside John and shaking his shoulders. John looked up at him and launched himself into his arms. Then, realising what he had done, he leaned back a bit but Sherlock held on. When Sherlock finally let go, his eyes were red.

"Yeah, I'm fine," John replied with a small smile, then he became agitated, "But what about you? What happened to you? I heard howling and screaming!"

"What? There wasn't a dog here ... how?" Sherlock was confused; and that was certainly something that didn't happen often. Suddenly, he had a 'light bulb' moment and leaned his head back and sighed, "Scotoma, John. The mind sees what it wants to see. In your case, hears what it wants to hear. As for the footprints, students who hate me enlarged them."

"Scotoma. What is this, 'The da Vinci code'?" John said with a chuckle, which evolved into full laughter at Sherlock's blank face. "Maybe we should get going?" Sherlock nodded and the pair got up, walking slowly back to the tents; well, in John's case, hobbling on one foot and leaning on Sherlock for support.

"I hate those guys!" John muttered as he tripped over a stone.

"Well, that's what you get for being my best friend," Sherlock replied with a grin. John smiled too: Sherlock claimed he didn't have friends, but he, John Watson, was Sherlock Holmes' best friend.

FIN

I'm a sucker for happy endings :P Hope you liked the story!

xx ApocalypseCat