Against the Odds

Chapter 20: Hounds of Baskerville

The trio sat watching the news clip their client had brought in about the government facility, Baskerville, in the area known as Dartmoor. Sherlock was leaning his head slightly against one hand, his pinkie finger ticking irritably as they watched the presenter explain about how there were mysterious stories, horror stories, about genetic experiments going on inside Baskerville.

The clip switched to an interview and they saw their client, Henry Knight, murmur shakily on-screen: "I was just a kid. It-it was on the moor." The news clip then showed a drawing Henry had done when he was nine, showing a black dog with bright red eyes. "It was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father."

Sherlock paused the clip, irritably, and he addressed Henry directly as he asked shortly: "What did you see?" Henry stuttered: "Oh. I ... I was just about to say."

He indicated to the TV and Sherlock interrupted: "Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing."

He sat with his fingers pressed together before his mouth, looking at Henry expectantly and the other man mumbled nervously: "Yes. Sorry, yes, of course." He fumbled in his pocket, drawing out a napkin as he muttered: "'Scuse me."

He blew his nose loudly and John said kindly: "In your own time." "But quite quickly." Sherlock added shortly. Marie and John rolled their eyes bit but Henry didn't notice. He paused before he asked: "Do you know Dartmoor, Mr Holmes?"

"No." Sherlock replied flatly. Marie could hear Sherlock was very disinterested in this case, and it would only be a matter of time before Henry wore out Sherlock's patience. Henry just continued: "It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else. It's sort of ... bleak but beautiful."

Sherlock replied: "Mmm, not interested. Moving on." John winced while Marie sighed quietly, and Henry looked a little confused but he went on: "We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me." Marie knew he was going about this the wrong way as Henry said: "Every evening we'd go out onto the moor."

Marie sighed as Sherlock interrupted again, saying irritably: "Yes, good. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?" Henry looked extremely put out but he explained hesitantly: "There's a place – it's... it's a sort of local landmark called Dewer's Hollow."

He had been clearly expecting some kind of reaction but all three of them gave him a blank look. Henry explained: "That's an ancient name for the Devil." "So?" Sherlock asked with an impatient shrug. Henry looked confused, as though he couldn't believe Sherlock's reaction. John chimed in helpfully: "Did you see the Devil that night?"

Henry looked at him as he replied softly: "Yes." He looked between the three of them as he described it: "It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes. It got him, tore at him, tore him apart." He turned away, his voice breaking as he said: "I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found."

John repeated slowly: "Hmm. Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous... A dog? Wolf?" He suggested to the other two and Sherlock scoffed: "Or a genetic experiment."

Marie winced a little as Sherlock turned his head away from Henry in complete disinterest. Henry's eyes narrowed a little and he asked: "Are you laughing at me, Mr Holmes?"

"Why, are you joking?" Sherlock retorted mockingly and Henry said darkly: "My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the type of monsters they were breeding there." Sherlock raised a brow and Henry snapped: "People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."

Sherlock said dryly: "And, I assume, did wonders for Devon tourism."

John interrupted before Sherlock could do more damage: "Yeah ... Henry," he addressed the man kindly while Sherlock sighed and looked away again irritated, "whatever did happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?"