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Chapter 1 - The Hounds of Baskerville

The door slams shut and moments later Sherlock bursts through the door to the living room, stopping just inside and slamming the end of a harpoon down on the floor.

I look up sharply and see that he's wearing black trousers and a white shirt, his chest and face are covered in blood that is far too much to be his own.

"What the hell were you doing?" I ask, my eyes wide.

Sherlock, breathing heavily, looks round at John and I who stare at him.

"Well, that was tedious." He says.

"You went on the Tube like that?!" John asks.

"None of the cabs would take me." He replies irritably, walking out of the room.

Later on, Sherlock is back in the living room after having cleaned up and changed, one of his blue dressing gowns on, he still carries the harpoon as he paces quickly between the door and the door, looking at John and I repeatedly as John flicks through newspapers and I look down at my phone in between looking up at him.

"Nothing?" Sherlock asks impatiently.

"Military coup in Uganda." John replies.

"Hm."

John chuckles in amusement at the newspaper. "Another photo of you with the, er..." He points to a photograph of Sherlock wearing the deerstalker hat, Sherlock makes a disgusted noise and John moves to another newspaper.

"Oh, um, Cabinet reshuffle." John says.

"Nothing of importance?" Sherlock says furiously, slamming the end of the harpoon down on the floor. "Oh, God!" He shouts in rage. He looks at John and I intensely, his eyes flicking between us at an inhuman speed. "John, Kate, I need some. Get me some."

"No." John says calmly.

Sherlock looks even more intensely at me.

I shake my head. "No." I say just as calmly, and look back down at my phone.

"Get me some." Sherlock says intensely.

"No." John and I say louder in unison. John points at Sherlock. "Cold turkey. We agreed, no matter what."

Sherlock irritably leans the harpoon against the table.

"Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember? No one within a two-mile radius will sell you any." John reminds him.

"Stupid idea." Sherlock says. "Whose idea was that?"

John and I look at Sherlock as John pointedly clears his throat, Sherlock looks towards the door.

"Mrs. Hudson!" He shouts, then begins to desperately search for the cigarettes, hurling paperwork off the table.

"Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well," John says. "Don't give up now."

"Tell me where they are," Sherlock says desperately as he continues searching. "Please, tell me."

John and I look at one another, and Sherlock straightens and looks at us, turning puppy-dog eyes on us.

"Please." Sherlock says.

"Can't help, sorry." John says.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers."

John and I look at each other and chuckle.

Sherlock looks at me and kneels down next to me.

"Kate, you're more understanding," He says. "Please." He adds desperately.