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

•The Hounds of Baskerville: Part Six•

Chapter Seventeen: ...And The Ugly

Once again, I found myself in the back of the car, as Sherlock drove and John sat in front of me. I felt my cheek, his kiss still lingering. I balled my fist and wiped the feeling from existence. So much has happened in the past hour. An unexpected reunion, and now I was on my way to where a demon dog could've been conceived. Yep. This trip just gets better and better.
We stopped at a gate where some military were, asking for Sherlock's pass. I could only presume that he was using Mycroft's identification, for Sherlock had no government credibility.

"We'll get caught." John worried. "the last thing Aspen needs for a university application is 'waltzed into a military base.'" He looked behind to me, and nodded. I shrugged my shoulders. In truth I was uneasy about this, for I wanted to go to university, but that wasn't for years to come.
"She didn't have to come." Sherlock scoffed. "She'll just hold us back." He added under his breath. My head then hung as I tried not to take it personally. It would only make John more concerned, which is the last thing he needs.
"Well, Mycroft's name literally opens doors!" John joked.
"I told you. He practically is the British government."   Sherlock told him.
*
We drove up to the main building, where a young man greeted us.
"What is it? Are we in trouble?" He asked, worried.
"Sir. Are we in trouble Sir." Sherlock corrected.
"Yes, sorry sir." He said, but blocked us from entering.
"Your ID showed up immediately, Mr. Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security. Is there something wrong sir?" He informed.
"I certainly hope not, corporal." Sherlock, or Mycroft said.

"Well, we don't get inspected much sir." Mr. Lyons explained. He kept glancing to me, as if I was guilty of breaking into his base.
"Ever heard of a spot check?" John added, "Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." He declared, and saluted the young man.
"Sir. Major Barrymore won't be please. He'll want to see you both." He mentioned.
"Us both? You mean the three of us?" John corrected.
"I'm sorry sir, persons under eighteen are not allowed admittance." Mr. Lyons said.

"Of course." I said, and John seemed irritated.
"Well we don't have time to argue. I'm sorry Aspen. We'll need the full tour right away." John said, and glanced at me.
"That's an order, Corporal."
"Yes sir." He said.

"Aspen go wait in the car. We won't be but twenty minutes." John ordered. The three of them then disappeared into the building.
No way was I staying out here by myself. I turned around and began walking back to the gate. The only sound that I couldn't of hear was the popping of my fingers. What if John gets angry with me when he returns and I'm not there?
On the way, I passed one of the last buildings, and felt a pull to go inside. Before I knew it I was inside putting on a fake lab coat like in the movies.

"Yes you're doing this." I told myself, realising  what had happened in the past few seconds.
I then felt my palms began to sweat and my head was pounding. I had to get out before I was caught.
"Hey you!" I heard someone call, and I could've sworn my heart was going to pounce out of my chest. What if they notice I'm under eighteen? What if I go to jail and die?
"Hey!" I heard, and a hand swirled me around.
"What do you think you're doing here?" A young man asked, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

The mans face then morphed into Sherlock's, in which I began to take off the coat and walk out. The figure then began to speak.
"You didn't have you come. My god why are you always tagging along. Even John doesn't like it. You hold us back." He taunted, and I put my hands to my ears.
"Shut up!" I said, regretting my awkward decision to go in there, as it heightened my anxiety. I hurried out of the door and back to the car.

Once I was in, I sat still on the seat. But when I looked to the side, the figure was there again, but this time his face shifted to John.
"Aspen, why didn't you just come? You always put yourself first, and I always have to clean up your mess! Good God and you're so dramatic, I should've just let you stay with your mother." He told me, then put his hand on my shoulder.
"No!" I exclaimed, and jumped back, hitting my head on the roof of the car. My breathing now had reached the point of short, swift breaths.

Now I was in a vision. I was back at my mothers flat, looking down on a scene. I saw myself coming home to see her watching the telly, half asleep. I had slammed he door a little too hard, for the words of Dakota were still in my head.
"God you haven't said a word and I wanna slap those eyes back into the ocean." She slurred, making me pause.
I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see myself run into my room, but it did nothing. The scene changed, and I now sat on the unmade bed of my room.

What was in front of me was shattering: it was the first time I had harmed myself. I could hear the squeak I made once it happened, and got to see my expression when I saw what I had done. I saw myself call John and beg him to stay on the line, but he hung up. I saw myself break down in sobs.

Why was I watching this? My mind was playing some sick game with me, making me recall all of these moments of my life.
Then, the scene changed. I saw myself meeting Wyatt for the first time, in my English Lit. Class. A sad longing grew in my heart as I wanted this moment to never end. Of course, it did. As if this torture wasn't enough, I finally saw myself and Jim Moriarty in the ally on New Year's Eve, and him trying to break me. He had left me alone, and began to walk off, putting on my cap.

I followed him, leaving my memory self to sleep in the alley until Lestrade would find me.
He walked amongst the pedestrians, ignorant to his true self, until he stopped by a bookstore to look at the selections. I stood across from him, wondering how someone so mental could ever pull off this two face attitude. His fingers lingered over a black paperback, then picked it up. My heart stopped at it, realising that it was my book, with the white mask and title in the font of a shattered mirror. He started humming a song and I stumbled back. As if he had spontaneously heard me, he looked up, and our eyes met. This was some type of memory, of course he couldn't see me. That didn't stop his soulless eyes from drilling into my head. I shut my eyes once more and tried to calm my breathing.

"Aspen, Aspen!" I heard, and opened my eyes to see John grasping my hands, and a swift slap across my face from Sherlock.
"Goodness, Sherlock!" John exclaimed. I trembled with fear at what had happened. My cold fingers touched the warm spot where Sherlock hit me, feeling the blood under my skin. The blood I've seen.
"You hit me." Was all I could say. Sherlock, someone I cared about, had struck me. He looked at me, then at John, who still grasped my free hand.

"Well I had to do something." He said, and started the car. John let go, and turned back around. A small tear went down and across my hand as we drove.
The scene replayed in my head, becoming more real each time. I tried so hard to keep my tears quiet, what sounded like sobs sounded like coughs, and his my face when John looked round. I didn't want to be dramatic.