บท 63: The Hounds of Baskerville (Part 1)
(Jared's POV)
Bookshop…
"No, it's not just a story, no. Every word of it's true. I found my great grandmother's diary in the loft, and she was a nurse in 1913, and she fell in love with this man called John Smith. Except he was a visitor from another world. She fell in love with a man from the stars. And she wrote it all down." Verity said, while she signs the book for the young man.
"That looks like a nice book, Spaceman." I said, while looking at the book called 'A Journal of Impossible Things', by Verity Newman, who is the spitting image of her great-grandmother Joan Redfern.
"Thank you." A man said.
The next book is presented for signing.
"And who's it for?" Verity asked, as I grabbed the Doctor's hand.
"The Doctor." The Doctor said.
"To the Doctor. Funny, that's the name he used." Verity said, looking up at the Doctor.
"Was she happy in the end?"
"Yes. Yes, she was. Were you?"
221B BAKER STREET….
The door to 221B slams closed on someone who has just gone inside, and there are two toy nodding dogs in the window of Speedy's café. Upstairs in the flat, the living room door bursts open and Sherlock charges in, stopping just inside the room and slamming the end of a long pole down onto the ground. Sitting in his armchair, John looks round and his eyes widen at the sight of his flatmate, who is wearing black trousers and a white shirt and whose arms, face and shirt are covered with blood – far too much blood for it to be his own – and who is holding a harpoon. I looked over at Sherlock while I am drinking a cup of mocha frappucino from Starbucks. I know what adventure is coming next and I am not looking forward to it. Sherlock looks round to John and I, breathing heavily.
"Well, that was tedious." Sherlock said.
"You went on the Tube like that?!" John exclaimed.
"None of the cabs would take me." Sherlock said, irritated.
"Well, yeah." I said, as Sherlock turns and leaves the room. "Clean yourself up, Sherlock."
Later, Sherlock is back in the room having cleaned himself up and changed into a clean shirt and trousers with one of his blue dressing gowns over the top. He is still carrying the harpoon and is pacing rapidly between the door and the window, looking round repeatedly at John who is sitting in his chair and flicking through the newspapers. I am now eating a croissant that I also got from Starbucks earlier.
"Nothing?" Sherlock asked, impatiently.
"Military coup in Uganda." John said.
"Hmm." Sherlock said.
"Oh, look." I said, loading Twitter as John and I chuckled in amusement when the army doctor sees something in one of the papers while I was on social media. "Isn't that funny, John?"
"Yes. It is. Sherlock, there's another photo of you with the, er …" John said, pointing to a photograph of Sherlock wearing the deerstalker hat.
"Sherlock, I like that hat." I said, and Sherlock makes a disgusted noise and continues pacing. "Got anything else, John?"
"Yeah." John said, while he moves on to another newspaper. "Oh, um, Cabinet reshuffle."
"Nothing of importance?" Sherlock asked, furiously stopping and slams the end of the harpoon onto the ground and roars with rage. "Oh, God!" He looks round at John and I intensely. "John, Jared, I need some. Get me some."
"No." John said, calmly.
"Nope. Not gonna happen." I said, smiling.
"Get me some." Sherlock said, intensely.
"No." John said, more loudly before pointing sternly at Sherlock. "Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what." Irritated, Sherlock leans the harpoon against the dining table. "Anyway, Sherlock, you've paid everyone off, remember? No-one within a two mile radius'll sell you any."
"Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?" Sherlock asked, while John looks round at him and clears his throat pointedly.
"Yours. Sherlock." I said, as Sherlock looked towards the door.
"Of course it was mine!" Sherlock said, shouting. "Mrs Hudson!"
Sherlock starts hurling paperwork off the table, desperately searching for what he needs.
"Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well. Don't give up now." John said.
"John, Jared, tell me where they are. Please. Tell me." Sherlock said, frantically as he continued his search.
"Nope." I said, and John remains silent, Sherlock straightens up and then turns his most appealing puppy-dog eyes on him, hesitating before he speaks and almost forming the word a couple of times before actually speaking it. "Not telling you."
"Please." Sherlock said, begging for mercy, twice.
"We can't help, sorry." John said.
"John, I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers." Sherlock said, while John chuckles. "Jared, I'll get you as many Pokemon plushies as you want." I also laugh before Sherlock becomes exasperated again. "Oh, it was worth a try."
Sherlock looks around the room, then gets inspired and hurls himself to the floor in front of the fireplace. Unearthing a Persian slipper from the pile of papers in front of the unlit fire, he holds it up and scrabbles about inside as Mrs Hudson arrives at the door and comes in.
"Ooh-ooh!" Mrs Hudson said, happily.
"My secret supply. What have you done with my secret supply?" Sherlock asked, rummaging about in the fireplace and speaking almost sing-song.
"Eh?"
"Cigarettes! What have you done with them? Where are they?"
"You know you never let me touch your things!" Mrs Hudson said, looking around at the mess. "Ooh, chance would be a fine thing."
"I thought you weren't my housekeeper." Sherlock said, standing up and facing Mrs Hudson.
"I'm not." Mrs Hudson said, as Sherlock makes a frustrated noise with him stomping back over to the harpoon and picks it up again.
"Mrs Hudson." I said, and behind Sherlock, Mrs Hudson looks down at John who does the universal mime for offering someone a drink as I am sipping on my mocha frappuccino. "Sherlock needs some tea."
"Jared, you're right." Mrs Hudson said, while she looked at Sherlock again. "Sherlock, how about a nice cuppa, and perhaps you could put away your harpoon."
"I need something stronger than tea. Seven per cent stronger." Sherlock said, glaring out of the window, then turns back towards Mrs Hudson and aims the point of the harpoon at her with the woman flinching. "You've been to see Mr Chatterjee again."
"Pardon?" Mrs Hudson asked.
"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking." Sherlock said, pointing with the harpoon's tip.
"Sherlock …" John said, sadly.
"Not the time to deduce Mrs Hudson." I said, rolling my eyes.
"Thumbnail: tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads, don't we?" Sherlock asked, sniffing deeply as he finally stops aiming the harpoon at Mrs Hudson. "Mmm: 'Kasbah Nights.' Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website – you should look it up."
"Please." Mrs Hudson said, exasperated.
"I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncaster..." Sherlock said, adopting a south Yorkshire accent to say the town's name. "…that nobody knows about."
"Sherlock!" John said, angrily.
"Shut…up!" I said, as angry as John.
"Well, nobody except me." Sherlock said.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't." Mrs Hudson said, upset and she storms out of the flat, slamming the living room door closed as she goes.
Sherlock leaps over the back of his armchair from behind it, then perches on the seat, wrapping his arms around his knees like a petulant child.
John slams his newspaper down, "What the bloody hell was all that about?"
"You don't understand." Sherlock said, rocking back and forth.
"Go after her and apologise." John said, sternly.
"Yup. Say sorry to Mrs Hudson." I said, crossing my arms.
"Apologise?" Sherlock asked, staring at John and I.
"Mm-hm." John said.
"Oh, John, Jared, I envy you both so much." Sherlock said, sighing.
John hesitates, wondering whether to rise to the bait, but eventually asks, "You envy me? And Jared?"
"John, your mind and Jared's mind: they're so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mine's like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad." Sherlock said, loudly and frantically. "I need a case!"
"You've just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!" John said, equally loudly.
With an exasperated noise, Sherlock jumps up in the air and then lands in the seated position on the chair.
"That was this morning!" Sherlock said, while he starts drumming the fingers of both hands on the arms of the chair while stomping his feet on the floor. "When's the next one?"
"Nothing on the website?" John asked.
Sherlock gets up and walks over to the table, collects his laptop and hands it to John, who looks at the message on there while Sherlock stomps over to the window and narrates part of it.
"'Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can you help?'" Sherlock asked.
"Bluebell?" John asked.
"A rabbit, John!" Sherlock said, irritated.
"Oh."
"Ah, but there's more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous …" Sherlock said, sarcastically, before he adopts a little girl's voice for the next three words. "... 'like a fairy' according to little Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry …" He stops and his expression becomes more intense. "Ah! What am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit."
"Are you serious?"
"It's this, or Cluedo."
"Ah, no!" John said, closing the laptop and gets up to put it back on the table. "We are never playing that again!"
"Why not?" Sherlock asked.
"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why."
"Well, it was the only possible solution."
"It's not in the rules." John said, sitting down again.
"Then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock said, furiously.
"The only time when it was wrong was when there was a murder, a mystery, and Agatha Christie!" I said, while the doorbell rings. "And when Agatha Christie lost her memory of the Doctor, Donna, and I a few days later."
"The Unicorn and the Wasp." John said, as he thoughtfully holds up a finger as Sherlock and I look towards the living room door. "Single ring."
"Maximum pressure just under the half second." Sherlock said.
"Client." John, Sherlock, and I said, at the same time.
Not long afterwards, a recording of a documentary is playing on the TV. Sherlock has taken off the dressing gown and exchanged it for a jacket and is sitting in his chair. John and I have relocated to the dining table chair near Sherlock's, and a man is sitting in John's chair. The documentary footage shows scenes of Dartmoor. Sherlock instantly looks bored.
"Dartmoor. It's always been a place of myth and legend, but is there something else lurking out here – something very real?" A presenter asked, through voiceover.
Footage of 'Keep Out' signs.
"Because Dartmoor's also home to one of the government's most secret of operations …" The presenter said, walking along a narrow road.
Sherlock's eyes flick repeatedly between the screen and the man in John's chair as the footage shows a large sign saying:
AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY
YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A RESTRICTED AREA
BASKERVILLE
By this time Sherlock's eyes are permanently fixed on the newcomer, who we now see is Henry Knight. Henry is watching the documentary with an anxious look on his face.
"... the chemical and biological weapons research centre which is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down. Since the end of the Second World War, there've been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments: genetic mutations, animals grown for the battlefield. There are many who believe that within this compound, in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is: are all of them still inside?" The presenter asked, through a voiceover.
The footage switches to an indoor scene where Henry is sitting in front of the camera talking to an offscreen interviewer. A caption at the bottom of the screen shows him as 'Henry Knight, Grimpen resident'.
"I was just a kid. It-it was on the moor." Henry said, while there's a cut-away to a child's drawing of a huge snarling dog with red eyes. The caption says, 'Henry's drawing (aged 9)'.
"It was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father." Henry said, onscreen.
Sighing, Sherlock picks up the remote control and switches off the footage.
"What did you see?" I asked, looking at Henry.
"Oh." Henry said, pointing to the television. "I ... I was just about to say."
"Yeah, in a TV interview. But Sherlock prefers to do his own editing. So let him."
"Yes. Sorry, yes, of course. 'Scuse me." Henry said, reaching into his jacket pocket, pulls out a paper napkin and wipes his nose on it.
"In your own time." John said, sadly.
"But quite quickly." Sherlock said.
Henry lowers the napkin, "Do you know Dartmoor, Mr Holmes?"
"No."
"It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else. It's sort of ... bleak but beautiful."
"Mmm, not interested. Moving on."
"We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor."
"Yes, good. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?" Sherlock asked, as John's eyes raise skywards at Sherlock's insensitive attitude.
"There's a place – it's... it's a sort of local landmark called Dewer's Hollow." Henry said, gazing at Sherlock who tilts his head at him as if to say, 'And...?'. "That's an ancient name for the Devil."
"So?" Sherlock asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Did you see the Devil that night?" John asked.
"Were you scared?" I asked, taking out some Japanese rolled omelets that Cardcaptor Sakura made to eat them.
His face haunted with memories, Henry looks across to John and I and nods.
"Yes." Henry said, in a whisper.
I closed my eyes to picture Henry's father screaming as he is pulled off his feet by something while young Henry watches in horror nearby.
"It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes." Henry said, as I am imagining what he saw.
My eyes are still closed as I pictured Henry's father finally falls silent. The creature growls savagely and young Henry turns and begins to scramble away. I opened my eyes to look straight at Henry.
"It got him, tore at him, tore him apart." Henry said, tearfully as Sherlock watches him intensely. "I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found."
"Hmm." John said, looking across to Sherlock and I. "Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous: dog? Wolf?"
"Or a genetic experiment." Sherlock said, looking away, biting back a smile.
"Like the Child Errors, Level 6 Shift, or the Silent Party." I said, sadly.
"Are you laughing at me, Mr Holmes?" Henry asked, looking at Sherlock.
"Why, are you joking?" Sherlock asked.
"My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."
"And, I assume, did wonders for Devon tourism."
"Yeah …" John said, uncomfortably, and in an attempt to stop Sherlock's continuing sarcasm, he leans forward to Henry with Sherlock rolls his eyes when he realises what the army doctor is doing. "Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?"
Henry sits forward, staring at Sherlock.
"I'm not sure you can help me, Mr Holmes, since you find it all so funny." Henry said, standing up and walks around the chair, heading towards the door.
"Well, um, Sherlock doesn't find it funny." I said, frowning.
"Jared's right. Because of what happened last night." Sherlock said.
"Why, what happened last night?" John asked, while I am still snacking on the Japanese rolled omelets.
Henry turns back towards Sherlock, John, and I, "How ... how do you know?"
"I didn't know; I noticed. And Jared has been snacking more than usual, because it depends on the cases I tackle. If it is a case that's less serious, Jared would snack less. If it is a case that is serious, Jared would snack more due to stress and worry." Sherlock said, and John shuffles on his chair with an 'Oh dear lord, here we go' expression on his face before the consulting detective talks in a quick fire pace. "Henry, you came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr Knight, and do please smoke. I'd be delighted."
Henry stares at Sherlock, then glances across to John and I who averts his gaze and sighs. Hesitantly, Henry walks back to the armchair and sits down, fishing in his jacket pocket.
"How on earth did you notice all that?!" Henry exclaimed.
"It's not important …" John said, while Sherlock's already off.
"Punched-out holes where your ticket's been checked …" Sherlock said, looking at two small round white pieces of paper stuck to Henry's coat.
"Sherlock…" I said, as I finished eating the Japanese rolled omelets Sakura made. "Not…now…"
"Oh please. I've been cooped up in here for ages."
"You're just showing off." John said, looking at Sherlock.
"Of course. I am a show-off. That's what we do." Sherlock said, turning his attention back to Henry and the napkin that he's still holding. "The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich."
Henry half-sobs, over-awed, "How did you know it was disappointing?"
"Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl – female handwriting's quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later – after she got off, I imagine – you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you're not that into her after all. Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your shaking fingers. I know the signs." Sherlock said, as his gaze becomes intense. "No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here." He glances at his watch. "It's just after nine fifteen. You're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?"
Henry stares at Sherlock in amazement, then draws in a shaky breath.
"No." Henry said, and Sherlock smiles smugly as John takes a drink from his mug to hide his 'oh bugger it' look with our client becoming awestruck. "You're right. You're completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick."
"It's my job." Sherlock said, leaning forward in his seat and glares at Henry intensely. "Now shut up and smoke."
John frowns towards Sherlock.
"John, review what we have so far." I said, while Henry takes out a roll-up and lights it and John consults the notes he's taken so far. "Whatcha got?"
"Not much, Jared. Um, Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?" John asked, as Henry is concentrating on taking his first drag on his cigarette.
As Henry exhales his first lungful, Sherlock stands up and steps closer to him.
"I know. That ... my …" Henry said, stopping as Sherlock leans into the smoke drifting up from the cigarette and from Henry's mouth and breathes in deeply and noisily through his nose.
"Sherlock…" I said, watching Sherlock having sucked up most of the smoke, with the consulting detective sits down again and breathes out, whining quietly in pleasure. "You were getting better too…"
"Henry, that must be a ... quite a trauma. Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this …" John said, trying hard to ignore Sherlock as Henry has exhaled another lungful of smoke and the consulting detective dives in to noisily hoover up the smoke again with the army doctor pauses patiently until he sits down again. "... to account for it?"
Henry drags his eyes away from Sherlock, "That's what Doctor Mortimer says."
"Who?" John asked.
"She is Henry's therapist." I said, frowning.
"Yes, she's my therapist." Henry said, at the same time as me.
"Obviously." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes as he looked at me. "Of course the fanboy would beat me to it."
"Louise Mortimer. She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons." Henry said.
"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?" Sherlock asked.
"It's a strange place, the Hollow." Henry said, and I closed my eyes to picture him standing in the Hollow the previous evening. "Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid."
"Yes, if I wanted poetry I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends. Much funnier." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes when John sighs hard in an attempt to release the tension that might make him kill his flatmate before the consulting detective looks at Henry again. "What did you see?"
"Footprints – on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart." Henry said, looking exasperated as Sherlock leans back in his seat.
"Was the footprints from a man or a woman?" I asked, while taking out some strawberry Pocky to eat them.
"Neither. They were …"
"Is that it? Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?" Sherlock asked, interrupting Henry.
"Yes, but they were …" Henry said.
"No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr Knight. Thank you for smoking." Sherlock said, interrupting Henry again.
"No, but what about the footprints?"
"Oh, they're probably paw prints; could be anything, therefore nothing." Sherlock said, leaning forward in his seat and flicks his fingers at Henry, gesturing him towards the door. "Off to Devon with you; have a cream tea on me."
Standing up and buttoning his jacket, Sherlock heads into the kitchen. Henry turns in his seat to look at Sherlock.
"Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" Henry said, worried.
Sherlock stops dead in his tracks, then slowly turns and comes back to the kitchen doorway and stares down at Henry.
"Say that again." Sherlock said.
"I found the footprints; they were …" Henry said.
"No, no, no, your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them." Sherlock said.
Henry thinks for a second, then slowly recites his words back to Sherlock, "Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic ... hound."
"Sorry, Jared, I'm so sorry. I can tell you don't like this one." Sherlock said, raising his head. "But I'll take the case."
"Sorry, what?" John asked, startled.
"But why?" I asked, looking at Sherlock. "Why are you taking on the 'Hounds of Baskerville'?"
"Because I like this one." Sherlock said, adopting the prayer position in front of his mouth and begins to pace slowly across the living room. "Henry, thank you for bringing this to my attention. It's very promising."
"No-no-no, sorry, what? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they're very promising?" John asked, looking at Sherlock.
"It's nothing to do with footprints. And it's nothing to do with worrying about being worried about this case. As ever, John, Jared, both of you weren't listening. Baskerville: ever heard of it?" Sherlock asked, stopping his pacing.
"Vaguely. It's very hush-hush."
"Sounds like a good place to start." Sherlock said.
"Ah! You'll come down, then?" Henry asked.
"No, I can't leave London at the moment. Far too busy. Don't worry – putting my best men onto it." Sherlock said, walking over to John and pats his shoulder and he gives me a hug. "Always rely on John and Jared to send me the relevant data, as they never understand a word of it themselves."
"What are you talking about, you're busy? You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining …" John said.
"About the case being boring. Saving me from the bads of this case." I said, looking at Sherlock. "I'm glad you…"
"Bluebell, John, Jared! I've got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit!" Sherlock said, interrupting John and I before he looks at Henry. "NATO's in uproar."
"Oh, sorry, no, you're not coming, then?" Henry asked.
Putting on a regretful expression, Sherlock shakes his head sadly.
"John, Sherlock needs them." I said, sadly.
"Right." John said, groaning. "Okay." He stands up while Sherlock smiles smugly. "Okay."
John walks over to the mantelpiece and picks up the skull, taking a packet of cigarettes from underneath it. Putting down the skull again, John turns and tosses the packet across to Sherlock, who catches it and then instantly tosses it over his shoulder.
"I don't need those any more. I'm going to Dartmoor." Sherlock said, walking out of the living room. "You go on ahead, Henry. We'll follow later."
"Er, sorry, so you are coming?" Henry asked, scrambling to his feet.
Sherlock turns and walks back into the room, "Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!"
London…
Later, John carries three large holdalls onto the street, shuts the front door and walks over to Sherlock who is holding a taxi door open. I am sitting in the taxi, waiting for Sherlock and John to enter the taxi. Next door in Speedy's, Mrs Hudson is shouting angrily at an unseen Mr Chatterjee.
"... cruise together. You had no intention of taking me on it …" Mrs Hudson said, throwing something at the closed door.
"Wow…" I said, as the item bounces heavily off the glass with John recoiling. "She's mad."
"Yeah. Oh! Looks like Mrs Hudson finally got to the wife in Doncaster." John said, looking between Sherlock and I.
"Mmm. Wait 'til she finds out about the one in Islamabad." Sherlock said, and John sniggers and gets into the taxi.
"Come on, Sherlock. We need to do this case." I said, while Sherlock follows John and I in.
"Alright, alright." Sherlock said, looking at the taxi driver. "Paddington Station, please."
(Open POV)
DARTMOOR…
After many shots of the beautiful Devon scenery, we find the boys and their fanboy driving across the moors in a large black Land Rover jeep. Sherlock is driving with Jared calling Mikoto Misaka, Shirai Kuroko, Saten Ruiko and Uiharu Kazari to let those four know to meet them at Dartmoor ... Some time later, away from the road, Sherlock is standing dramatically skylined on a large stone outcrop, Jared is listening to the RWBY Volume 9 soundtrack on Spotify, and John stands at the foot of it consulting a map. John points ahead of himself at a large array of buildings in the distance. Shirai teleports there with Saten and Uiharu before disappearing and reappearing with Mikoto.
"There's Baskerville." John said, turning and pointing before them as Sherlock turns to look. "That's Grimpen Village." He turns and looks ahead of them again, checking the map for the name of the heavily wooded area to the left of the Baskerville complex. "So that must be ... yeah, it's Dewer's Hollow."
Sherlock points to an area in between the complex and the Hollow, "What's that?"
"Hmm?" John asked, while he has binoculars on a strap around his neck and now he lifts them and looks more closely at the fencing and the warning signs. "Minefield? Technically Baskerville's an army base, so I guess they've always been keen to keep people out."
"The military clearly wants people out. Sorry girls, I forgot about it being dangerous." Jared said, laughing a little. "But I suppose you four are used to danger."
Later, Sherlock, John, and Jared drive into Grimpen Village and pull into the car park of the Cross Keys inn. The boys get out with the girls teleporting in and walk towards the entrance of the pub, where a young man who is apparently a tour guide is talking to a group of tourists.
"... three times a day, tell your friends. Tell anyone!" Fletcher said, happily.
"Is that the urban legend here?" Saten asked, looking at the large sign. "Is it real?"
The boys, girls, and their fanboy walk past the group and see that Fletcher is standing next to a large sign on which is painted a black image of a wolf-like creature with the words 'BEWARE THE HOUND!!' above it.
"Spoilers." Jared said, smiling. "Maybe it is, Saten."
"Don't be strangers, and remember ... stay away from the moor at night if you value your lives!" Fletcher said, looking at the tourists.
Sherlock has been pulling his overcoat around him as he walks towards the pub, and now he pops the collar. John looks round at him pointedly.
"I'm cold." Sherlock said, trying and failing to look nonchalant.
The tourist group walks away from Fletcher. Once their backs are turned he puts on a large shaggy wolf's-head mask. Sherlock, John, Jared, Mikoto, Shirai, Saten, and Uiharu walk into the pub, which has a blackboard outside advertising 'Boutique Rooms & Vegetarian Cuisine'. Fletcher runs over to a couple of the nearby tourists and roars. They flinch and the woman shrieks in surprise.
(Jared's POV)
CROSS KEYS INN…
"Hi." I said, taking out my psychic paper. "I'd like two bedrooms. One of the bedrooms needs two queen size beds. I'd like a bedroom for myself."
"The bedroom with the queen size beds are for me and my friends." Mikoto said, walking up to the check in counter. "Girls need to be separated from the boys."
"You're the Railgun." Gary said, looking at Mikoto. "I saw you on telly. That sports festival in Japan."
"That's me. Can we get those two rooms?"
"Of course. Of course."
"Oh." John said, looking at Gary. "I'd like a double room for myself and Sherlock."
"John, you're not going to get that room." I said, laughing a little.
While Sherlock prowls around the interior of the pub, John, Mikoto, and I, are at the bar checking in. The manager and barman, Gary, hands the three some keys.
"Eh, sorry, John Watson, we couldn't do a double room for you and Sherlock Holmes. But we were able to do a double room for those four girls and their friend." Gary said, looking at John.
"That's fine. Sherlock and I, we-we're not …" John said, looking at the smug knowing smile on Gary's face and gives up before giving him some money for the drink he has just bought. "There you go."
"Oh, ta. I'll just get your change."
"Ta."
"Baskerville looks interesting." Uiharu said, as Gary goes to the till with John's glance falls on a pile of receipts and invoices which have been punched onto a spike on the bar. "Why does this place look more isolated?"
"This place is in the middle of nowhere." Shirai said, and John frowns when he sees that one is labelled 'Undershaw Meat Supplies'. "We are not in the middle of civilization."
"And it is older than Academy City." Saten said, while John quickly reaches out and rips it from the spike, putting it into his pocket as Gary comes back with his change. "It's not as technically advanced as it."
"There you go." Gary said.
"Hey." Saten said, walking up to Gary. "I looked at the map earlier. I saw the moor. Why is there a skull and crossbones?"
"Oh that, aye."
"Were there pirates?!" Uiharu exclaimed, walking over to John and Saten.
"Eh, no, no. The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it." Gary said.
"Oh, right. Is it a bad thing?" Saten asked.
"Again with the urban legends, Saten." Shirai said, walking over to Saten. "What does this one have?"
"It's not what you think. It's the Baskerville testing site. It's been going for eighty-odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there any more." Gary said.
Nearby, Sherlock is still prowling around and now seems to find something of interest at one of the tables.
"Are we talking explosives?" Mikoto asked, walking up to her friends.
"Oh, not just explosives. Break into that place and – if you're lucky – you just get blown up, so they say ... in case you're planning on a nice wee stroll." Gary said.
"'The Hounds of Baskerville'." I said, while Sherlock loses interest in the table and wanders off again. "I wouldn't mind walking around this town."
"Neither do I. Ta. Gary. I'll remember." John said.
"Aye. No, it buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound!" Gary said, chuckling, coming out from behind the bar presumably to clear some glasses. "John, Jared, did you see that show, that documentary?"
"Quite recently, yeah." John said.
"Aye. God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell."
"Have you ever seen a hound?" I asked, looking at Gary.
"Me? No." Gary said, pointing out the door past Sherlock, where Fletcher is just outside the pub and talking on his phone. "Fletcher has. He runs the walks – the Monster Walks for the tourists, you know? He's seen it."
"That's handy for trade." John said, while Gary turns to a man who is clearly the inn's cook who has just arrived behind the bar.
"Yeah." I said, as Sherlock turns and follows Fletcher as he walks away from the doorway. "It does look like it."
"I'm just saying we've been rushed off our feet, Billy." Gary said, looking at Billy.
"Yeah. Lots of monster-hunters. Doesn't take much these days. One mention on Twitter and oomph." Billy said, looking at Gary. "We're out of WKD."
"Oh. It's the White Claw and Sea Isle Spiked Ice Tea equivalent here." I said, looking at Gary. "I want one."
"All right. I'll get some for you, Jared." Gary said, walking behind the bar again.
Billy turns to John.
"What with the monster and that ruddy prison, I don't know how we sleep nights. Do you, Gary?" Billy asked, and Gary stops and puts a hand on his shoulder and looks at him affectionately.
"Like a baby." Gary said.
"That's not true." Billy said, looking at John. "He's a snorer."
"Hey, wheesht!" Gary said, embarrassed, trying to shut Billy up.
"Is yours a snorer?" Billy asked, looking at John.
"... Got any crisps?" John asked.
I went outside of the inn with Mikoto, Shirai, Saten, and Uiharu. I'm drinking a can of WKD and it's not bad. Sherlock follows me and the others outside and swipes a half-drunk pint of beer from a nearby empty table and the five of us walks over towards Fletcher. Sherlock notices as he does so that he has a copy of the Racing Post newspaper in his trouser pocket.
Fletcher has gone over to another of the tables and is just finishing his phone call, "Yeah ... No. All right? Right. Take care. 'Bye."
"Mind if we join you?" Sherlock asked, while Fletcher shrugs and gestures to the table with the consulting detective putting his pint down and sits on the bench with me joining him on the other side of the table. "It's not true, is it?" Mikoto, Shirai, Saten, and Uiharu pulled up some chairs to sit down near the table. "You haven't actually seen this…" Sherlock grins in a friendly way. "…hound thing."
"You from the papers?" Fletcher asked, looking at Sherlock suspiciously.
"No, nothing like that. Just curious. Have you seen it?"
"Maybe."
"Well, do you have any proof?" Saten asked. "Of seeing the hound."
"Why would I tell you if I did? 'Scuse me." Fletcher said, standing up to leave just as John comes over with his own drink.
"I called Henry …" John said.
"Bet's off, John, sorry." Sherlock said, talking over John.
"What?" John asked, sitting down.
"Bet?" Fletcher asked.
"My plan needs darkness." Sherlock said, looking at his watch before looking up at the sky. "Reckon we've got another half an hour of light …"
"Wait, wait. What bet?" Fletcher asked.
"Oh, I bet John here fifty quid that you couldn't prove you'd seen the hound."
"Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could." John said, catching on immediately and looking at Fletcher.
"Well, it's a better bet than that of ten quid of wanting Queen Victoria to say 'I am not amused'. The Doctor and Rose made that bet." I said, laughing a lot. "Rose won of course."
"Which led to you being knighted and exiled on the same day with the Doctor and Rose." John said, as Fletcher smiles and points to Sherlock. "At least this adventure doesn't involve a werewolf. But another type of dog."
"Well, you're gonna lose your money, mate." Fletcher said, looking at Sherlock.
"Yeah?" Sherlock asked.
"Yeah. I've seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind – couldn't make much out."
"I suppose there weren't any witnesses." Shirai said, sadly.
"No, but …" Fletcher said.
"Never are." Sherlock said.
"Wait …" Fletcher said, and he has been working on his phone and now shows Sherlock, Mikoto, Shirai, Saten, Uiharu, and I a photograph. "There."
"That's the Hound?" Saten asked. "This urban legend doesn't look that interesting."
Sherlock, Mikoto, Shirai, Saten, Uiharu, and I look at the photograph which shows a dark-furred four-legged something in the distance but, with no scale amongst the surrounding vegetation, it's impossible to tell the size – or even the species – of the animal.
"It is a bit small." Uiharu said, while Sherlock snorts.
"Is that it? It's not exactly proof, is it?" Sherlock asked, as Fletcher shows the photo to John. "Sorry, John. I win."
"Easiest bet ever." I said, and Sherlock picks up the stolen beer glass and makes as if to drink from it, although he never does. "Let's go, guys."
"Wait, wait. That's not all. People don't like going up there, you know – to the Hollow. Gives them a ... bad sort of feeling." Fletcher said.
"Ooh! Is it haunted?! Is that supposed to convince me?" Sherlock asked, putting down the glass again.
"Nah, don't be stupid, nothing like that, but I reckon there is something out there – something from Baskerville, escaped."
"A clone, a super-dog?!" Sherlock exclaimed, not really trying to hold back his skeptical snigger.
"Maybe. God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn't trust 'em as far as I could spit."
"Is that the best photo of the Hound you've got?" Mikoto asked, nodding to the photograph.
Fletcher hesitates for a long moment but eventually he speaks reluctantly, lowering his voice.
"I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishin' but he never showed up – well, not 'til late. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. 'I've seen things today, Fletch,' he said, 'that I never wanna see again. Terrible things.' He'd been sent to some secret Army place – Porton Down, maybe; maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else." Fletcher said, leaning closer. "In the labs there – the really secret labs, he said he'd seen ... terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs …" He reaches into his bag and pulls something out, showing it to the boys. "... dogs the size of horses."
Fletcher is holding a concrete cast of a dog's paw print – but the print is at least six inches long from the tip of the claws to the back of the pad.
"Wow." I said, taking out some chocolate chip cookies to eat them.
"The urban legend is proven real." Saten said, smiling.
Sherlock, Saten, and Uiharu stares at the dog's paw print in surprise.
"Joh, the bet." I said, while John immediately pounces.
"Er, we did say fifty?" John asked, as Fletcher smiles triumphantly, Sherlock gets out his wallet and hands the army doctor a fifty pound note. "Ta."
Sulkily, Sherlock gets up and walks away with Mikoto, Shirai, Saten, Uiharu, and I. John finishes his drink and follows us.
Baskerville…
Later, Sherlock, John, and I take the car to Baskerville, Sherlock still driving. I told Uiharu and Saten to stay behind at the inn, mostly because it isn't safe while I asked Mikoto and Shirai to come with us. As we approach the complex, he observes that there are very many military personnel guarding the place, walking the perimeter etc. He drives up to the gates and a military security guard holding a rifle raises a hand. As Sherlock stops the jeep, the man walks around to the driver's window.
"Pass, please." The security guard said, and Sherlock reaches into his coat pocket and hands him a pass. "Thank you."
"We're breaking into another facility." Mikoto said, while the security guard walked away with the pass. "Should Kuroko and I stay behind as backup?"
"Yeah." I said, as another security man encourages a sniffer dog to check the jeep at the front of the vehicle, presumably for explosives. "Mikoto, you can check the cameras. Shirai, you can be our teleport out of here if things go wrong."
"Sherlock, you've got ID for Baskerville. How?" John asked, quietly.
"It's not specific to this place. It's my brother's. Access all areas. I, um …" Sherlock said, quietly before clearing his throat. "... acquired it ages ago, just in case."
"Better than the approach I do." Mikoto said, and the security guard swipes Sherlock's pass through a reader at the gate room.
"Sissy, you'd rather shock first and ask questions later." Shirai said, while the screen shows a fairly small photograph of Mycroft and names the card holder as Mycroft Holmes, giving him Unlimited Access and showing his security status as 'Secure (No Threat)'.
"Brilliant!" John said, excitedly.
"What's up?" I asked, still snacking on the chocolate chip cookies.
"We'll get caught."
"No we won't – well, not just yet." Sherlock said.
"Caught in five minutes. 'Oh, hi, we just thought we'd come and have a wander round your top secret weapons base.' 'Really? Great! Come in – kettle's just boiled.' That's if we don't get shot." John said.
The gates begin to slide open as the security guard comes back over to the car.
"Clear." The security dog handler said.
"Thank you very much, sir." The security guard said, handing Sherlock his pass.
"Thank you." Sherlock said, putting the car in gear and eases the vehicle forward.
"Straight through, sir."
"Mycroft's name literally opens doors!" John said, happily.
"I've told you – he practically is the British government. And we have Uiharu on standby to make the security cameras' images composite if necessary." Sherlock said, looking at John.
"Don't forget that we have Mikoto here to hack into the cameras and the security system too." I said, placing my hand on top of Mikoto's.
"That is also true. I reckon we've got about twenty minutes before they realise something's wrong."
Sherlock drives up to the main complex at Baskerville, parks the car and he, John, Mikoto, Shirai, and I get out. Another soldier leads them through barriers and towards an entrance to the main building. As we walk, Sherlock looks around at all the military men patrolling the area, many of them armed. Even the scientists in lab coats are being escorted. As we approach the entrance, a military jeep pulls up and a young corporal gets out.
"What is it? Are we in trouble?" Lyons asked.
"'Are we in trouble, sir?'" Sherlock asked, sternly.
"Yes, sir, sorry, sir." Lyons said.
"I think this place didn't account for Espers being here. A Level 4 or a Level 5." I said, looking between Mikoto and Shirai.
Nevertheless, Lyons steps in front of us and holds out his hands to prevent us getting nearer to the entrance.
"Oh. That explains why I'm here." Shirai said, her eyes widening.
"You were expecting us?" Sherlock asked, looking at Lyons.
"Your ID showed up straight away, Mr Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security. Is there something wrong, sir?" Lyons asked.
"Well, I hope not, Corporal, I hope not."
"It's just we don't get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesn't happen."
"Ever heard of a spot check?" John asked, taking a small wallet from his pocket and shows the ID inside to the corporal. "Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."
"And I'm Jared Shay. I'm one of the scientific advisors of the Unified Intelligence Taskforce." I said, taking out the psychic paper from my pocket and showing the ID inside to the corporal.
Even before I finish speaking, the corporal comes to attention and salutes. John and I crisply return the salute.
"Sir. Major Barrymore won't be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you all." Lyons said.
"I'm afraid we won't have time for that. We'll need the full tour right away. Carry on." John said, as the corporal hesitates before the army doctor instantly comes up with an order. "That's an order, Corporal."
"Yes, sir." Lyons said, spinning around and walking towards the entrance.
"Mikoto, Shirai, stay out here." I said, looking between the two Tokiwadai Middle School girls. "Just as we discussed."
"Right." Shirai said.
"We're on it." Mikoto said, taking out her spare phone. "We'll also be on standby."
Sherlock glances across to John and I with a proud smile on his face as we follow, leaving Mikoto and Shirai behind. At the entrance, which is marked 'AUTOMATIC SECURITY DOOR', Lyons swipes his pass through a reader, then waits for Sherlock to walk over and do the same with his own pass. The message 'ACCESS GRANTED' appears on the reader. Lyons then presses a button and the locks on the door disengage. Sherlock checks his watch.
Elsewhere, probably a long way from Baskerville, a message flashes up on a screen:
CCV1 • security authorization requested •
holmes, mycroft • priority ultra
processing CCV1 •
5555*0000*x1 //5894
The security request begins to process. At Baskerville, the door swings open and Lyons leads Sherlock, John, and I inside, taking off his beret as he goes. As he leads them towards the next security door, the three of us talk quietly.
"Nice touch." Sherlock said.
"Haven't pulled rank in ages." John said.
"Enjoy it?"
"Oh yeah."
"Scientific advisor?" John asked, looking at me.
"The Doctor gave me that rank after the Year That Never Was." I said, smiling. "I think I've earned it by now."
Reaching the door, Lyons swipes his pass and then steps aside for Sherlock to do likewise. As he does so and another 'ACCESS GRANTED' message appears, the authorisation request is sent out again. The doors slide opens and reveal an elevator on the other side. Lyons leads us inside and Sherlock looks at the wall panel. The lift, now on the ground floor, only goes downwards to five floors marked -1, -2, -3, -4 and B. Lyons presses the -1 button and the doors close, opening shortly afterwards on the next floor down. Lyons leads them out into a brightly lit and white tiled laboratory. As we walk forward, various scientific staff dressed either in white coveralls including full breathing masks, or in lab coats and face masks walk around the lab. There are large cages to the right of the elevator and as Lyons leads the way past us, a monkey screams and hurls itself at the bars towards them.
Sherlock spins on his heel as he passes the cage, looking at the monkey and the chain around its neck, "How many animals do you keep down here?"
"Lots, sir." Lyons said.
At the far end of the lab, a scientist wearing coveralls and a breathing mask comes out of another room and takes off his mask. Another scientist walks across the lab with a beagle on a lead.
"Have any animals ever escaped Baskerville?" I asked, looking at Lyons.
"They'd have to know how to use that lift, sir. We're not breeding them that clever." Lyons said.
"Unless they have help." Sherlock said.
The man who just took off his mask comes over to the group.
"Ah, and you are?" Frankland asked.
"Sorry, Doctor Frankland. I'm just showing these gentlemen around." Lyons said.
"Ah, new faces, huh? Nice. Careful you don't get stuck here, though. I only came to fix a tap!" Frankland said, smiling at Sherlock, John, and I.
"We won't." I said, as John and I chuckles politely as Frankland walks towards the lift.
John turns to Lyons, "How far down does that lift go?"
"Quite a way, sir." Lyons said.
"Mmm-hmm. And what's down there?" John asked.
"Well, we have to keep the bins somewhere, sir. This way please, gentlemen."
"Wow. The timeline stayed the same." I said, while Sherlock and I watched Frankland as he reaches the elevator. "Even for this case."
"That's good." Sherlock said, as Frankland in turn looks around to gaze with interest at the consulting detective, John, and I.
While Lyons leads John away, Sherlock and I walk backwards for a couple of paces before turning to follow.
"So what exactly is it that you do here?" John asked.
"I thought you'd know, sir, this being an inspection." Lyons said.
Sherlock is looking at the various scientists around the room, a couple looking at a rat in a glass cage, another one doing something to the leg of a monkey on a leash which is sitting on a metal table. Nearby, another scientist picks up what looks ominously like a glass container of serum.
"Well, John and I aren't exactly experts. So what is it you do here?" I asked, grabbing John's hand. "For me, I deal with aliens. Not all this."
"Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir." Lyons said.
"But mostly weaponry?" John asked.
"Of one sort or another, yes." Lyons said, swiping his card through the reader of a door at the side of the lab, then steps aside for Sherlock to do likewise.
"Is it biological or chemical weapons?" I asked, squeezing John's hand.
"One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared." Lyons said, as the door releases, Sherlock checks his watch.
The security authorisation message goes out again, the message changing slightly:
CCV1 • security authorization //5894
• query • query • query
CCV1 • 5555*0000*x1
Lyons leads Sherlock, John, and I through the doors and into another lab where a monkey stands up on its back legs with one hand high in the air and shrieks before sitting down again on a high metal table. A female scientist looks at it and then turns to her colleague.
"Okay, Michael, let's try Harlow Three next time." Stapleton said, and she walks away from the table, Lyons approaches her.
"Doctor Stapleton." Lyons said.
"Stapleton." Sherlock said, thoughtfully.
"Yes?" Stapleton asked, looking at Sherlock, John, and I. "Who's this?"
"Priority Ultra, ma'am. Orders from on high. An inspection." Lyons said.
"Really?"
"We're to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton. What's your role at Baskerville?" Sherlock asked, while Stapleton looks at him and snorts with disbelieving laughter.
"Er, accorded every courtesy, isn't that the idea?" John asked.
"I'm not free to say. Official secrets." Stapleton said.
"Oh, you most certainly are free …" Sherlock said, smiling at Stapleton before his smile fades and his voice becomes ominous. "... and I suggest you remain that way."
"Not the best tone." I said, as Stapleton looks at Sherlock for a moment. "Try to be nicer…"
"Right…" Sherlock said, and he looked at me. "Is she the…"
"Yes. So what is it you do, Doctor Stapleton?"
"I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up – genes, mostly; now and again actual fingers." Stapleton said.
Sherlock has had a lightbulb moment when she said the words 'genes' and is reaching into his pocket before Doctor Stapleton finishes the sentence, "Stapleton. I knew I knew your name."
"I doubt it." Stapleton said.
"People say there's no such thing as coincidence. What dull lives they must lead." Sherlock said, holding up his notebook to Stapleton on which he has written a single large word: 'BLUEBELL' with the scientist staring at it in amazement while Sherlock watches her face closely.
"Have you been talking to my daughter?" Stapleton asked.
"No. We haven't." I said, while Sherlock puts his notebook away. "Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton? An innocent adorable little creature that meant everything to your daughter."
"The rabbit?" John asked, bewildered.
"Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive." Sherlock said, looking at Doctor Stapleton as she stares at him blankly.
"The rabbit?"
"Clearly an inside job."
"Oh, you reckon?" Stapleton asked.
"Why? Because it glowed in the dark." Sherlock said, loudly clicks the 'k' on the last word.
"I have absolutely no idea what you and your friend talking about. Who are you?" Stapleton asked.
Even as she speaks Sherlock checks his watch again. Out in the security system somewhere, the authorisation request changes:
CCV1 • security authorization
•• alert •• alert ••
potential level 5 security breach
5555*0000*x1 //5894
Someone looking at the screen picks up a phone and lifts the handset to their ear. At Baskerville, Sherlock lowers his hand and turns to Lyons.
"Well, I think we've seen enough for now, Corporal. Thank you so much." Sherlock said.
"That's it?" Lyons asked, surprised.
"That's it." Sherlock said, turning and heads briskly back towards the door, John and I following behind and Lyons trailing after us. "It's this way, isn't it?"
"Just a minute!" Stapleton said, calling after Sherlock, John, and I.
John catches up to Sherlock and I and speaks quietly so that Lyons can't overhear him. His tone suggests that he is not best pleased.
"Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?" John asked.
"Not just the rabbit." I said, as Sherlock reaches the door and swipes his card, then waits for Lyons to catch up to us and do the same with his own card. "Also for the hound."
(Open POV)
In Whitehall or somewhere similar, telephones begin to ring as a chain of calls relays the potential security breach and the message goes out:
• URGENT • URGENT • URGENT •
refer holmes, mycroft
Sitting in what can surely only be the Diogenes Club with a cup of coffee on the table beside him, Mycroft takes out his phone when it trills quietly. Looking at the message, he rolls his eyes in exasperation, gazes off into space with a 'Good God – what now?!' look on his face for a moment and then begins to text.
(Jared's POV)
Baskerville…
Sherlock walks swiftly through the security doors and heads for the lift as his phone trills a text alert. He takes out his phone without stopping and reads the message:
What are you doing?
M
"Your brother?" I asked, and Sherlock laughs sarcastically. "How long did it take him?"
"A while, Jared. Twenty-three minutes. Mycroft's getting slow." Sherlock said, reaching the lift doors, he swipes his card and Lyons does likewise.
The doors open revealing Doctor Frankland standing inside as if he has been waiting in there. Trying to look nonchalant, he smiles at Sherlock, John, and I.
"Hello ... again." Frankland said.
Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Sherlock walks into the lift with me and the others. Very shortly afterwards, one floor up, the doors open again and reveal a bearded man in military uniform waiting for us. He does not look happy.
"Er, um, Major …" Lyons said, sadly.
"This is bloody outrageous. Why wasn't I told?" Barrymore asked.
"Major Barrymore, is it?" John asked, stepping out of the lift towards Barrymore. "Yes, well, good. Very good." He offers him his hand to shake. "We're very impressed, aren't we, Mr Holmes, Mr Shay?"
"Yeah. We are." I said, while Barrymore refuses to take John's hand. "Baskerville is amazing."
Sherlock's phone sounds another text alert and he reaches into his pocket for it again.
"Deeply; hugely." Sherlock said.
Sherlock walks past Barrymore as he looks at his text message which reads:
What's going on Sherlock?
M
The major follows along behind Sherlock, John, and I while the consulting detective hurries towards the exit door.
"The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense …" Barrymore said.
"I'm so sorry, Major." Sherlock said.
"Inspections?!"
"New policy. Can't remain unmonitored forever. Goodness knows what you'd get up to." Sherlock said, urgently and quietly to John and I. "Keep walking. We can't keep Mikoto and Shirai outside forever."
Lyons has briefly ducked into a side room but now hurries out again.
"Sir!" Lyons said, slapping an alarm button on the wall. Alarms start to blare, red lights flash and the automated security door locks itself. Sherlock, John, Barrymore, and I turn back to him. "ID unauthorised, sir."
"What?" Barrymore asked.
"I've just had the call."
"Is that right?" Barrymore asked, turning to Sherlock, John, and I. "Who are you?"
"Look, there's obviously been some kind of mistake." John said.
A little further back, Frankland is slowly walking towards the group, looking thoughtful. Barrymore holds out his hand for Sherlock's ID card, which he gives to him. He looks at the card and then up at Sherlock.
"Clearly not Mycroft Holmes." Barrymore said.
"Computer error, Major. It'll all have to go in the report." John said, getting out a notebook and starting to write.
"What the hell's going on?!"
"It's all right, Major. I know exactly who these gentlemen are." Frankland said.
"You do?"
"Yeah. I'm getting a little slow on faces but Mr Holmes here isn't someone I expected to show up in this place."
"Ah, well …" Sherlock said.
"Good to see you again, Mycroft." Frankland said, offering Sherlock his hand to shake.
John tries to mask his surprise. Smiling falsely, Sherlock shakes Frankland's hand.
"I had the honour of meeting Mr Holmes at the W.H.O. conference in …" Frankland said, pretending to think. "... Brussels, was it?"
"Vienna." Sherlock said.
"Vienna, that's it." Frankland said, looking at Barrymore. "This is Mr Mycroft Holmes, Major. There's obviously been a mistake."
Barrymore turns and nods to Lyons, who goes back to the alarm switch and turns it off. The lights stop flashing and the alarm falls silent. A moment later the entrance door's lock disengages noisily.
"On your head be it, Doctor Frankland." Barrymore said, turning back to Frankland.
"I'll show them out, Corporal." Frankland said, laughing as he looks at the approaching Corporal Lyons.
"Very well, sir." Lyons said.
Sherlock spins on his heel and walks towards the now open entrance door. John, Frankland, and I follow him while Barrymore glares after us unhappily. Sherlock, John, and I go outside, with the army doctor grimacing anxiously with an 'Oh gods, I really hope we're going to get away with this!' expression on his face. Frankland trots after Sherlock, John, and I.
"Thank you." Sherlock said.
"We really appreciate it. Thank goodness, things are as I remember them back home." I said, smiling.
"This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?" Frankland asked, while we don't answer him but he takes our silence as agreement. "I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didn't realise he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes!" Sherlock grimaces. "Oh, don't worry. I know who you really are. I'm never off your website. Thought you'd be wearing the hat, though."
"That wasn't my hat." Sherlock said.
"I hardly recognise him without the hat!" Frankland said, looking at John.
"Sherlock looks better with the hat, doesn't he?" I asked, looking at Frankland.
"He does! He does!" Frankland said, as John tries unsuccessfully to bite back a smile.
"It wasn't my hat." Sherlock said, techily, sounding the 't's loudly.
"I love the blog too, Doctor Watson."
"Oh, cheers!" John said, excitedly.
"The, er, the Pink thing …" Frankland said.
"Mm-hm."
"... and that one about the aluminium crutch!"
"Yes."
"Jared Shay. You brought a civilian, some Judgment officers from Academy City, and the strongest Electromaster here?" Frankland asked, looking at me.
"They're my friends from Academy City, Japan." I said, stopping and turning back to Frankland. "I asked them if they wanted to come in case things go sideways at Baskerville. Do you know Henry Knight?"
"Well, I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend." Frankland said, looking back the way we came and sees that Major Barrymore is standing some distance away and watching us before he turns back to Sherlock. "Listen, I can't really talk now." He takes a card from his coat pocket and hands it over. "Here's my, er, cell number. If I could help with Henry, give me a call."
"I never did ask, Doctor Frankland. What exactly is it that you do here?" Sherlock asked, looking at Frankland.
"Oh, Mr Holmes, I would love to tell you – but then, of course, I'd have to kill you!" Frankland said, laughing cheerfully.
"That would be tremendously ambitious of you." Sherlock said, straight faced before Frankland's smile fades and he shrugs in embarrassment. "Tell me about Doctor Stapleton."
"Never speak ill of a colleague." Frankland said.
"Yet you'd speak well of one, which you're clearly omitting to do." Sherlock said.
"I do seem to be, don't I?" Frankland asked, shrugging.
"I'll be in touch." Sherlock said, raising the card that Frankland just gave him.
"Any time." Frankland said.
Sherlock, John, and I walk away from him and head towards our Land Rover with Mikoto and Shirai.
"So?" John asked.
"So?" Sherlock asked.
"What was all that about the rabbit?" John asked, while Sherlock smiled briefly and pulls his coat tighter around himself, flipping up the collar just as they reach the car with the army doctor rolling his eyes and turns to him. "Oh, please, can we not do this, this time?"
"Do what?"
"You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool." John said, as he turns to go to the car door, Sherlock opens his mouth to speak but is apparently so disconcerted that for a moment he can't find the words.
"... I don't do that." Sherlock said.
"Yeah you do."
"Sherlock, why are you colder than sissy?" Shirai asked, looking at Sherlock.
Sherlock, John, Mikoto, Shirai and I get into the car.
"Don't blame me, Kuroko. I'm not Sherlock Holmes." Mikoto said, rolling her eyes.
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