Devil Take The Hindmost •Sequel To Life Is But A Dream•

•The Hounds of Baskerville: Part Three•

A/N: this chapter is rather long.
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Chapter Fourteen: A New Case

In the doorway was a young man, probably in his mid twenties. His eyes were a clear blue, much like mine. He had a short haircut with tiny bangs only covering a small portion of his forehead. His ears poked out from his oval head. He wore a scarf with his dark jacket and scruff.
"He-hello." He said, holding a tape in his hand. "My name is Henry. Henry Knight."
"Pleasure to meet you." John said, and ushered him in. I realised that my current attire wasn't the most suitable for guests, so quickly I went into the bedroom and changed into jeans and a white shirt with a grey sweater.

When I came back, the three of them-  John, Sherlock, and Henry were watching the tape he brought in. It was a documentary. I found a spot on the couch that made me comfortable and joined them. On screen was a woman with dark skin and hair, walking on a street that cut through a field.

"... the chemical and biological weapons research centre which is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down." She was explaining. " 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."
That last part sent a new sensation down my spine. I hated being afraid.
"But the real question is: are all of them still inside?"

I swear, if John and Sherlock take whatever case this is, I will kill myself.

The footage then switched over to the client, Henry, speaking.
"I was just a kid. It-it was out on the moor." He began, then it cut to a drawing of a menacing hound that looked like a child drew it.
"It was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father." He continued, and would have gone on if Sherlock had not switched it off.

"What did you see?" He asked, turning to Henry.
"Oh I, I was just about to say-" he stammered.
"Yes in an interview. I prefer to do my own editing." Sherlock reasoned.
"Oh yes- yes of course." Henry said, "excuse me," he pulled out his napkin and blew his nose. I suddenly felt pity for this man. He was afraid.
"In your own time." John assured.
"But quite quickly." Sherlock contradicted, earning a distasteful look from myself.

After a brief moment, Henry put down his napkin.
"Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. Holmes?" Henry asked him. Sherlock refused. "It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else. It's sort of ... bleak but beautiful." He described, and I was immediately intrigued by the setting he described.
"Boring. Moving on." Sherlock halted, and I gave him another sour glance.
"We used to go for walks, after my mum died. My dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor." He began.
"Yes, good- skipping to the night your dad was violently killed." Sherlock rushed, and I was about ready to say something to him, but I controlled my spark of anger. Even John had to look up to avoid an outburst, it seemed.

"There's a place. It's sort of a local landmark called Dewers Hollow." Henry explained after a moment.
Sherlock waited.
"It's an ancient name for the devil." Henry stated, making me squirm. So far in my life only one thing comes to my mind when I hear that word, but it's been a while since I've see him.
"So?" Sherlock asked, exasperated.
"Did you see the devil that night?" John took over.
Henry turned his fearful eyes towards John and nodded.
"Yes." He said, his voice like a whisper. "It was huge. Coal-black fur with red eyes." He described, and his voice became tearful as Sherlock gave him an intense look. "It got at him, tore him apart." Henry and I then locked eyes for a second. I myself had tears for a before they backed away.
"I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, wandering around the moor. My dads body was never found." He finished, and all Sherlock could do was hide his smirk. It took every fibre of my being not to stand up and slap him for how he was acting towards him. He's just never experienced real fear.