The Question of Faith in Baskerville

Chapter Three: A Case or a Conspiracy Theory?

John had never been more grateful for a client's visit. Sherlock had been so very close. Did he even realize how close? John shook his head, focusing on straightening things up a little. Papers off the floor, his research tucked off to the side.

"Here's another visitor," Mrs. Hudson said at the door opening it.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," John said. "Should I apologize for Sherlock?"

Mrs. Hudson waved him off. "I'll be popping over to see if he was right. Just make sure he doesn't skewer this poor lamb."

"I will," John said, turning to the "poor lamb." It would appear that "poor lamb" wasn't too far off.

The young man before him looked lost, exhausted, haunted. Terror clung to him like a blanket that refused to be thrown off. Pain, so much pain, from wounds that had yet to heal after remaining open for so many years. His eyes darted about as his hands worried his coat. His ears noticeably spread from his head in a way that both seemed comical and added to the subtly vulnerable expression. "Should I be worried, sir?" he asked, softly a little shakily.

"No," John assured him, guiding him in. "Sherlock has just been impatient for a new case. Being a little snippy as a result. Would you like a cuppa?"

"Yes, please, um . . ."

"Dr. John Watson," John answered. "And you are?"
"Henry Knight."

"A pleasure, I'll get that cuppa for you. Please, have a seat." John went to the kitchen to turn the kettle on. He felt some minor relief that Henry had settled into his chair and not Sherlock's. John didn't want to test Sherlock's limits that way. He took their collection of tea tins over to allow Henry to select his preference.

Henry held up a cd case. "This will help explain why I'm here," he said. Nerves were jumping about like jitter bugs. He wasn't sure how Sherlock and John would react. So, he hoped the DVD would lessen the pressure on him.

John smiled. "I'll get it set up as you choose your tea," he said. Thankfully the tv and player were still uncovered from the double-date movie night last Friday. John slipped the disc in and waited just long enough to pause the film as it immediately started.

He then reclaimed the tea, noting Henry's choice, a calming tea. At least the young man recognized his nerves and the benefits of a good, relaxing cuppa.

At that moment, Sherlock virtually swept out from his bedroom as though his dressing gown was still able to billow behind him.

John rolled his eyes, just barely catching his friend's elbow. "He's a ball of nerves," he said in a low voice. "Don't scare him off."

"When have I ever scared a client off?" Sherlock asked, confused.

"Plenty of times," John answered. "Calm down and be good."

Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes. But he straightened, tugged his suitcoat down to a pristine office look. Then he walked out like a dignified gentleman. "Sherlock Holmes," he introduced himself.

"Henry Knight," Henry answered, standing and offering a handshake.

"We'll go over your case once John is ready," Sherlock said, taking a seat in his customary chair, prompting Henry to sit back down as well. "He enjoys writing up my cases and sharing them on his blog."

"I'll be interested to see how he records this one," Henry said.

John smiled, using just a little time magic, isolated on the tea, in order to give Henry the perfect cup. "Milk or sugar?" he asked.

"Spot of milk, two sugars," Henry answered.

John nodded, mixing the tea as Henry wanted it. He then brought it out. "Here we are."