A Consulting Detective, Ex Army Doctor, and Child Mercenary Walk Into A Room

Chapter 3: The Hounds of Baskerville

Sherlock holds open the door of the cab as John comes out of 221B with their bags. Lune was standing near Sherlock with her bags. "Lune, those had better not be what I think it is," said John. "Jesus John, I left my guns upstairs." He let out a sigh of relief. "These are my hunting rifles! We are trying to find a hound out in the woods." Then, the three of us turn at the sound of raised voices from Speedy's sandwich shop. A floury bag slams against the window. "I guess Mrs. Hudson just got to the wife in Doncaster," said John. "Wait till she finds out about the one in Islamabad," I snickered.

...

Once we got to Dartmoor, we rented a car to drive to Baskerville. Sherlock was driving and John was in the passenger seat. I was in the back. We reached Baskerville and there were heavily armed soldiers, guard dogs, and masses of security cameras. Sherlock's window glides down with an electronic hum. He proffers a laminated ID card to a uniformed military policeman who takes it, frowning and crosses to his hut. "You've got an ID for Baskerville? How?" John asks Sherlock. "It's not specific to this place. It's my brother's. Sort of 'access all areas'. I ... acquired it. Ages ago. Just in case." "Oh brilliant," said John sarcastically. "What's the matter?" I ask.

"We'll get caught." "No, we won't. Not for a bit," Sherlock assured. "Caught in five minutes. 'Hello! We just thought we'd have a wander around your top secret weapons base'. 'Oh yeah? Great! Come in. Kettle just boiled.' That's if we don't get shot." "John, you know I wouldn't let anything happen to you right?" "Lune, as much as I appreciate your help, you can't just risk your life like that," said John. "Well that's not a problem," Sherlock said, "We'll almost certainly get shot at some point." The military policeman swipes the ID through a reader - beep! - then hands it back to Sherlock and waves the land rover through.

"Mycroft's name literally opens doors," I said. "I've told you. He practically is the British government. Right. I reckon we've got 20 minutes until they find out something's wrong!" Sherlock puts his foot down and the land rover roars ahead. Sherlock screeches the car to a halt in a concrete compound. There are army trucks and civilian cars everywhere along with huge, mysterious pipes and metal tanks. A uniformed corporal, Lyons, darts from the brick entrance way to meet them. "What is it? Are we in trouble?" the young man asks. "Are we in trouble, sir," said Sherlock. Lyon comes to attention. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." "You were expecting us?" I ask. "Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes. Corporal Lyons. Security. Is there something wrong, sir?"

"I hope not, Corporal. I hope not," said Sherlock. "We don't get inspected, you see, sir. It just doesn't happen." "Never heard of a spot check?" asked John. Lyons looks questioningly at John and me who pulls out our own IDs. "Lune Jennifer Moriarty. I work for the British government from time to time." "Captain John Watson. Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers," said John. Lyons snaps to attention and salutes. John reciprocates. "Sir! Major Barrymore won't be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you three. Immediately." "I'm afraid we don't have time for that. We need the full tour. Right now. Carry on." Lyons hesitates. "That's an order, Corporal," John orders. "Yes, sir." Lyons leads us through into the glass portfolio. Sherlock checks his watch. Lyons swipes his card through another reader - beep! Sherlock swipes his fake card - beep!

Lyons leads them down a brick corridor. "Nice touch," Sherlock says to John. "Haven't pulled ranks in ages." "Enjoy it?" I ask. "Oh yes," John says delighted. I fist bump John for pulling that off. Lyons leads us into an elevator. As the doors close, Sherlock notices the number of buttons. The base obviously goes a long way down ... The lift doors open onto a spartan, modern lab set-up. Stark white light alternates with pools of a sort of underwater green. Lyons and Sherlock swipe their cards again. Beep! - beep! Sherlock looks at his watch again. Masked and gowned scientists are at work-stations, busy on innumerable and unknown experiments. A few glance around as we walk past. The scientists all seem equally blank and unknown. Their masks render them chillingly identical.