Devil Take The Hindmost •Sequel To Life Is But A Dream•

•The Hounds of Baskerville: Part Ten•

•A/N: please don't hate me for this chapter. This one has been especially stressful because of the events, and what you will think, but I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Twenty-One: End Of The Beginning

Henry's grip did not cease, his anxiety passing to me. He kept exclaiming to himself about the hound, and how it tormented his mind. All I could feel was pity and guilt, for I too feel and have felt these conflicting emotions. My mind throbbed, the voices of John, Sherlock, Wyatt, and Moriarty echoing. Henry's therapist didn't seem to work.
My friend took me deeper into the Moor, and soon we were approaching the downhill. I lost my footing and tumbled down, my knee wound opening up again.
"Aspen, tell me about you. Please something nice for me to go with." Henry begged, switching the safety off his gun.

"Henry-" I began, tears forming in my eyes from both the internal and external pain. It was as if I was looking into the past, except it wasn't me, but a young adult man.
"You know what demons our minds can conjure, Aspen! I- I can't do this anymore, The Hound, it tortures me that no one believes me. You're the only one who can possibly understand how alone I feel. So please, tell me something good." Henry babbled.
A silence prolonged, the both of us staring into one other's dewy eyes, the same look held. I then looked down at the gun. It's true, I knew all too well what the demons inside us could conjure, tormenting their hosts into an inescapable vortex of terror and madness.

"Y-you know that they ha- they have to be silenced. Me then you. Okay? Okay. Now please, look away." Henry said, then put is head up.
I turned quickly, falling to my knees, and brought my hand up to my mouth. "I'm sorry dad." I heard him whimper. I turned to see him put the gun in his mouth, and covered my ears.
I saw my own near me, the one I grabbed from Henry's home, and took it. So quick, it would be...
"Henry! Aspen!" I heard the voice of Sherlock call. Quickly, I felt warming arms around me, my hand already wrapped around the gun.
"Oh god." John whispered, his hand on my hair. I could feel his racing heart, much like mine. My brain had immediately perceived his embrace as a threat, resulting in the rise of my pulse.
Whilst Sherlock reasoned with Henry, I looked to see who else but Lestrade standing there. Was he nothing but a hallucination as well?

John pulled away, and I shakily stood. My knees were weak as the trio spoke to Henry. Around us was now fog, kindly blanketing the ground and cloaking the depression in the Earth. I saw my gun on the ground, and picked it up, ready to fire at any new participant in this event.

Suddenly, I found myself backing into a body, and turned to see a man in a respiratory-like mask. I circled around, them looking at me, then taking it off.
"No, no please!" I begged, then burst off running, the man following me.
I sprinted through the trees, pushing away the brush and obstacles, until I was tackled.
"Aspen, you're really boring, you know?" I heard the Irish voice drawl. A gust of air escaped my nose, and a whimper from my lips. I turned to see Moriarty pointing the gun at me.

"First you meet me in a hospital freely available to ignore me, but you don't. That's no fun. Then you just take a random bottle of pills that Molly just so happened to lay out. The rest is all your doing. Your capture at the pool, and my confrontation in the alley those months ago. All because, you didn't ignore me." He stated. A click was heard from the gun. My breathing elevated. It seemed as if his voice got deeper, and more menacing.
"You can't ignore me now. I will always be in your head. In the shadows of your thoughts, the crevices of your dreams, and the spotlight in your nightmares. At least I'm real. Unlike your friend."

"Stop." I pleaded, as the man put the gun to my temple.
Nothing was said. I blinked, and the man was gone. A ghost. That wasn't the worst part.

I was holding the gun. I held it to my head. I had thought those thoughts. I had turned off the safety.
"Unlike your friend." I repeated to myself.

I thought of when Wyatt and I first met, in the classroom, but this time it was different. I just saw myself looking up to an empty figure, into nothing but air.
"No-" I whispered to myself.

Then the teacher coming over, and the seat behind me was empty. She only came to tell me how well my progress on the project was. Along with the conversation with Dakota after- that was a fantasy in my head.

The ticket to the Chinese circus was nothing but a ticket on the ground.

The circus: Sherlock stands there watching me look from him to an empty space, his deductions in my head as well.

Every moment I had spent with Wyatt Roman was in my head. Everything was just my mind. No wonder he never came back when Moriarty kidnapped me.
No wonder John was confused on Christmas Eve, and the night before now.

Henry wasn't the one loosing his mind. I was.

Tears began to flow as I realised I was alone now. I had run away from our group, and staged the perfect spot for my death. It's what you want, what you've always wanted, I thought. Closing my eyes, I rested my finger on the trigger, and applied the slightest of pressure. A burst hit my temple, and what little light from the moon that illuminated the trees was lost, and I fell to darkness.

*
*
*

"She's mad. Completely insane. First that boy, then this."
"Lestrade-"
"As Scotland Yard, I seriously recommend you tell her. She's been mumbling all night, after you found her on the ground with a gun, a bruise on her head from the blank."

No. It couldn't be. I flashed my eyes open to see John and Lestrade standing over me, a warm cloth on my head, and a bed under me. We were back at the hotel. John wore a purple shirt and jeans, while Lestrade held a coat matching his button up.
"John?" I asked weakly, dread filling my being. "No, no no!" I exclaimed, and sat up. I had to be dead, and this was all just a dream. That was it.

Lestrade hands went to my shoulders in an attempt to calm me. I only beat them away, and swung my legs over the side.
"Aspen-" John began.
"A blank?!" I repeated Lestrades vocabulary.
"Good for Sherlock to plant that at Henry's house. He was right about her all along-" the detective inspector stated.
"John, what is he talking about, why am I not dead? I should be dead!" I begged.
"Greg, could you give us a moment, please?" John asked.

The man looked at John and I with pity, then left.
"Aspen, why did you come?" My uncle asked me, getting on one knee to be eye to eye.
"I didn't have a choice." I said, a new vulnerability being exposed. I didn't dare fight it now, it was no use.
"What were your intentions?" John asked me. "Did you mean anything you told me over the course of these few days?" He put his head down. "You were out cold. Barely breathing. Sherlock he-" the man stopped and took in a breath of air. "Sherlock and I were speaking, and he claimed that you were planning to take your life. He was right."
It was as if I was watching my life crumble under me.

"Was Wyatt Roman real?" I asked him, anxiety spilling over. It couldn't compare with what he said next.
"No. Speaking as a doctor, he wasn't real." John said, looking down.
I didn't hold back now. If I was, it was released. A sob came out, and I put my face into my palms.

"He- he kissed me though." I confessed.

A long silence passed, with my crying the only sound.

"I can't live like this anymore, Aspen. You can't live like this anymore." He said, standing. "I didn't want it to come to this."

"What do you mean?" I asked, all of my hope lost.

He only looked into my eyes, and I looked into his.
~~~

Dang. What an ending to The Hounds of the Baskerville. Good news! I have the first parts of Richenbach written and they should be up tomorrow! Thanks so much and see you guys later!
-jedihobbitwizard