How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 57

(Alice’s POV: )

 I stared at Henry in disbelief as Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly turned and came back to the kitchen doorway and stared down at Henry.

 “Say that again.” Sherlock commanded.

 “I found the footprints; they were...” He began.

 “No, no, no, your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them.” He ordered. Henry thought for a second, and then slowly recited his words back to him.

 “Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic... hound.” He repeated slowly. Sherlock raised his head.

 “We’ll take the case.” Sherlock said immediately.

“Sorry, what?” John asked, looking at Sherlock bewildered. Sherlock adopted the prayer position in front of his mouth and began to pace slowly across the living room.

 “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It’s very promising.” Sherlock thanked.

 “No-no-no, sorry, what? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they’re very promising?” John asked, as confused as ever.

 “It’s nothing to do with footprints. As ever, John, you weren’t listening. Baskerville: ever heard of it?” Sherlock replied, back to his normal self. Well, normal when he’s on a case normal.

 “Vaguely. It’s very hush-hush.” John said.

 “Sounds like a good place to start.” I reasoned.

 “Ah! You’ll come down, then?” Henry asked, sounding triumphant.

 “No, I can’t leave London at the moment. Far too busy. Don’t worry – putting my best man onto it.” He walked over to John and patted his shoulder.

 “Always rely on John to send me the relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself.” Sherlock said happily. I sighed, knowing I would be stuck here with him waiting to pounce on the phone.

 “What are you talking about, you’re busy? You don’t have a case! A minute ago you were complaining...” John began.

 “Bluebell, John! I’ve got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit!” He looked at Henry. “Plus Alice. NATO’s in uproar.” He added.

 “Oh, sorry, no, you’re not coming, then?” Henry asked, disappointed. Putting on a regretful expression, Sherlock shook his head sadly. John groaned.

 “Okay.” He stood up as Sherlock smiled smugly. “Okay.” He walked over to the mantelpiece and picked up the skull, taking a packet of cigarettes from underneath it. Putting the skull down again, he turned and tossed the packet across to Sherlock, who caught it and instantly tossed it over his shoulder.

 “I don’t need those any more. I’m going to Dartmoor.” Sherlock replied. He walked out of the living room. I held in some very bad profanities as Sherlock tossed the cigarettes back. “You go on ahead, Henry. We’ll follow later.” Sherlock added.