You're An Idiot, Sherlock Holmes (OC x Sherlock)

Fly In The Ointment

Fletcher exchanged a look of disbelief between me and Sherlock. "Well, you're gonna lose your money, mate." 

"Yeah?" challenged Sherlock. 

"Yeah. I seen it, only about a month ago- up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind, couldn't make out much."

"Oh okay," I said dryly, rolling my eyes. "No witnesses either, I suppose." 

"No, but-"

"Never are," Sherlock countered with a shrug. Fletcher pulled out his phone and showed us a photo of a silhouette in the woods that was the size of a hound described by Henry when he first arrived at our flat.

"There," Fletcher said with confidence. 

Sherlock let out a snort and I do the same. "Is that it? It's not exactly proof, is it?" Sherlock said. Turning to me, he said, "Sorry, Jane, I win," with no obvious hint of apology. I pulled out my money with a harrumph.

"Wait, wait, that's not all," Fletcher said, making me stop in interest. "People don't like going up there, y'know. To the Hollow. Gives them a bad sort of feeling."

"Ooh, is it haunted?" Sherlock expressively asked. "Is that supposed to convince me?" 

"Nah, don't be stupid -nothing like that. but I reckon there's something out there," assured Fletcher. "Something from Baskerville. Escaped."

"Clone? Super-dog?" I chimed in, laughing at my own joke.

"Maybe," replied Fletcher, not aware of my joking tone. "God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years or putting in the water. I wouldn't trust them as far as I can spit."

"And how far can you spit?" I asked, continuing with the same non-serious tone. "besides, is that the best you've got?" 

"I had a mate once who worked for the M.O.D.," Fletcher said as he started to pull something out of his backpack. "One weekend, we were meant to go fishing, but he never showed up- well not till late. When he did, he was white as a sheet." I look of interest fled over Sherlock's face and I leaned in closer to hear the story. "I can see him now. 'I've seen things today, Fletcher,' he said. 'That I never want to see again. Terrible things.' He'd been sent to some secret army place- Porton Down, maybe. Maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else. 

"In the labs- the really secret labs, he said he'd seen some terrible things. 'Rats as big as dogs,' he said. And dogs; dogs the size of horses." He held up a rock imprint to us, and he wasn't wrong. The paw print was at least half a size bigger than a horse's hoof.

"Uhh," I croaked, finding my voice lost in awe. "We did say fifty," I said to Sherlock, holding out my hand, palm up. Fletcher looked smugly at Sherlock as he pulled out his wallet and gave me my quid. "Thank you," I crowed as Sherlock got up and walked away. I finished my wine and followed after him. 

~

My fingers tapped excitedly on my lap in the rental jeep as we entered through the first set of Baskerville gates. I looked eagerly at the lab ahead of us but my face soon fell as I realized that what we were doing was tremendously perilous. Men in military uniforms were walking the premise, some with trained dogs, some with weapons, some without. If one of them realizes Sherlock and I aren't allowed in and caught in attempted trespassing . . . good night, Vienna. 

Sherlock gently laid his foot on the brake as a guard put up his hand in front of us, blocking our way through the second set of gates. Once the vehicle stopped, the man came around to Sherlock's side. "Pass, please." Sherlock handed him a pass I never saw him with and I eyed the object.