Prompt: hidden (Hades Lord of the Dead)
It was late. Holmes and I had travelled a long way and the timid December sun had long since crept back beneath the horizon. There was no moon; the sky was shrouded behind a thick dark veil of clouds which threatened snow or worse, for the temperature had surely fallen too low for rain. The result was nearly a pitch darkness where my eyes, even at their most alert, could only make out dim silhouettes fading in and out of the shadows surrounding us. I knew Holmes beside me only by the press of his arm in mine.
"It should be just here!" Holmes hissed by my ear, his high, strident voice sharp in the deathly silence of a winter's night. "We have come through the front gate, however rusted, and diligently wound our way along the drive, but now I could not say if we were approaching the manor or the wild moor." There was a wry humour in his voice despite his plain impatience occasioned by exhaustion, in which he was not alone.
As Holmes indicated, the drive along which we walked toward the manor had descended into a dense copse of ancient trees. The growth closed in around the path as though to repair the gash which had been cut straight through it, until the drive was buried.