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

•The Hounds Of Baskerville: Part Two•

Chapter Thirteen: No Bribes

He was holding a harpoon, and I immediately picked up the familiar scent of iron that came with his appearance.
"Well, that was tedious." He stated. He left early in the morning... to harpoon a... pig, I assumed?

"You went on the tube like that?" John asked, after raising his eyebrows a bit.
"None of the cabs would take me." Sherlock sighed.
I turned around to face the cushions of the couch as Sherlock walked out to clean himself up. This then resulted in me sprawling my arms out in a stretch, and I looked over to see John glance in my direction.

Silently and slowly, I get off the couch and head to the kitchen to get breakfast. It's the first time I've actually wanted to eat in a while, so John seemed pleased.
It didn't last long. Soon after I took a bite of an apple I found behind the human pieces in the fridge, I gagged and spit it out.
"Gah I can't do that." I said to myself. It must've been the fact that the apple had sat next to actual fingers for ages before being picked out. Must've.

"You okay? That's the first I've heard from you in weeks." I heard John ask.
"Yeah." I said before Sherlock came out, in his dark robe and completely clean. He was searching for something, most likely his cigarettes. He paced around, still holding the harpoon as John flipped through the paper.

"Nothing?" He asked impatiently.
Because this was to turn into another one of their arguments, I plugged in some earbuds and listened to the radio. However, I did leave one open just to eavesdrop.
"Anything?" Sherlock asked him, tossing his harpoon to and fro between his hands.
"Military coup in Uganda." John offered, but Sherlock only shook his flustered head. I must believe that seeing him like this brings me enjoyment.

"Another photo of you in the-" John started, and Sherlock glanced at the paper to see the picture of in that hat that made its debut last year.
'One year, Aspen.' I thought as they continued. It almost wasn't though. There are so many ways I could've knocked over that bucket before this moment in time. And many ways I can before and hour from now, a day from now, or a month from now.
My heart began to hurt at that statement as a light percussion ballad began to play in my ear.

That was soon interrupted by Sherlock slamming his harpoon on the floor, followed by him screaming "Oh God!"
He then looked to John with determination.
"John, I need some. Get me some." He pleaded.
After a pause, John bluntly refuses.
"Cold turkey, we agreed. No matter what." He told him after Sherlock demanded cigarettes again.

He went over and put his harpoon against the table, his expression revealing a frustrated state of mind.
"Anyway, you've paid everyone off remember? No one within a two-mile radius will sell you any." John explained, turning a page of the news. He glanced at me and smirked.
"Stupid idea. Who's idea was that?" Sherlock spat. His eyes then rested on me. I shook my head. There was an instant last week when he was willing to pay me to get him some.

"No." I had said.
"I'll let you know the key to your exam tomorrow." He bribed.
"Tempting, but no Sherlock. I'm too young to buy those for you, much less myself." I told him.
"Ten pounds." He offered, pulling out his wallet.
"No."
"Fifteen."
"Shut up." I asserted.
"Aspen, do I need to tell John about what happened?" He asked. My face then firmed.
"You wouldn't." I said, hushed. "Go ahead. He won't care anyway. I'm not buying you those things. You're going to kill yourself." I began to walk away.
"You're one to talk." He said, but I didn't stop.

When I came back from the memory, Mrs. Hudson was storming out of the room. I didn't even see her come in. It's them I realise that a very depressing song is playing in my ear. I ripped the earbud out and put my head in my hand. Somehow my heart began to race during my remembrance, and chills ran down my spine, shortening my breath.
"...go after her and apologise." I heard John order Sherlock as the pounding in my ears faded.
"Apologise? Oh John, I envy you so much." Sherlock remarked. I lifted my head, breathing roughly through my mouth.

"You envy me?" John asked, his tone a mix of sarcasm and hesitation.
"Your mind. So placid and barely used. Mines like an engine, racing out of control," Sherlock explained, but began rambling off, "a rocket trapped on a launch pad- I need a case!" He shouted eventually. I flinched at the crescendo of his voice, and covered my ears.
"You just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, apparently." John rose his voice as well as the pounding returned. My hands began to shake as Sherlock went over to the table and picked up his computer, giving it to John. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to calm my breathing.

"Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can you help?" Sherlock quoted from what seemed like an e-mail.
"Bluebell?" John asked, and as I opened my eyes I found him looking at me once more.
"A rabbit, John. But wait there's more. Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous- 'like a fairy,' according to Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone. Cage still locked, no sign of a forced entry..." He began to trail off as it seemed a lightbulb went off.
"What am I saying, this is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit." Sherlock told John.

"Wait, are you serious?" I finally asked, my voice croaking from not speaking.
"It's either this or Cluedo." Sherlock said.
"Ah, no. We are never playing that agin." John chimed in, standing up and giving me the computer.
"Why not?" Sherlock and I asked.
"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it Sherlock." John stated.
"It was the only possible solution." I mumbled, closing the device.
"It wasn't in the rules." John told me, his voice softer than his tone to Sherlock.
"Well then the rules are wrong." I said, and we both shared a glance, as if he could read my thoughts.

A ring stopped him from saying something. He then looked to Sherlock.
"Single ring."
"Maximum pressure just under half a second." Sherlock deduced.
They had a client.