The Hounds of Baskerville [Reader Insert]

Knight Mares

     "Dartmoor. It's always been a place of myth and legend. But is there something else lurking out here? Something very real? Because Dartmoor is also home to one of the government's most secret of operations: The chemical and biological weapons research center, which is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down. Since the end of the Second World War, there have 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 the ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is, are all of them still inside?"

     You rolled your eyes and shut off the tape, turning to the sleep-deprived client sitting across from you and Sherlock. Henry Knight.

     "What did you see?" Sherlock asked.

      "Oh, I was just about to say-"

      "Yes, in an TV interview. We prefer to do our own editing."

      We?

     "Oh." Henry blinked. "Of course. Er, excuse me..." he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a napkin, blowing his nose.

     "In your own time," said John kindly.

     "But rather quickly," you muttered. John gave you a look and you just smiled apologetically at him.

     Henry blinked and lowered the napkin, but not before you noticed some writing in pen on the napkin- in two different inks. You stashed away the information in your mind library.

     "Do you know Dartmoor, Miss (L/N)?" Henry asked.

       You raised a brow but answered shortly, "No."

      "It's an amazing place... It's like nowhere else. It's sort of... bleak, but beautiful."

     "Mmm, not interested," Sherlock said. "Moving on?"

      Henry blinked. "Um, okay... We used to go for walks, after my mum died. My dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor..."

     "Yes, good. Skipping to the night your father was violently killed. Where did that happen?"

      Henry's eyes widened and he frowned, understandably put off by Sherlock's... Well, quite frankly, his Sherlockness. 

     "There's a place. It's... it's a sort of local landmark, called Dewer's Hollow," Henry whispered. He paused for dramatic effect, but seeing as there was no reaction, elaborated, "That's an ancient name for the Devil."

     "Okay... So?" You gestured for Henry to go on.

     "Did you see the Devil that night?" John asked Henry softly.

     "Yes." Henry's voice was just barely above a whisper. "It was... huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes! It got at him, tore at him. Tore him apart... I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found." Henry sniffled.

      "Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous," John thought aloud. "Wolf?"

      "Or a genetic experiment," Sherlock said. 

      You bit back a smile. A genetic experiment? Surely Sherlock wasn't actually considering it. 

     Henry's eyes widened. "Are you laughing at me, Miss (L/N)?"

    "Why, are you joking?"

      Henry practically huffed. "My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; the types of monsters they were breeding there!" he told you indignantly in desense. "People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously," he muttered bitterly.