15. "Baskerville."

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Sherlock sat in his chair, John in the chair behind his at the table and I sat on the couch as the client put a video on the television. We watched as the video talked about Baskerville. The man in front of us showed up on the screen, and I read his name was, Henry Knight.

"What did you see?" Sherlock asked Henry after turning off the television.

"Oh. I ... I was just about to say." Henry said to Sherlock, stuttering nervously.

"Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing." Sherlock responded.

"Yes. Sorry, yes, of course. 'Scuse me." Henry said as he pulled out a napkin out of his pocket and wiped his nose on it.

"In your own time," John said.

"But quite quickly," Sherlock added.

"Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. Holmes?" Henry asked lowering his napkin.

"No," Sherlock responded.

"It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else. It's sort of ... bleak but beautiful." Henry explained.

"Mmm, not interested. Moving on." Sherlock said

"We used to go for walks, after my mom died, my dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor." Henry began. I sat and listened with my hands curled up under my chin, in interest.

"Yes, good. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?" Sherlock asked, and I looked at Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" I scolded.

"No, it's alright. Um, there's a place- it's... it's a sort of local landmark called Dewer's Hollow." Henry explained. Sherlock looked at him, waiting for further explanation. "That's an ancient name for the Devil," Henry added.

"So?" Sherlock asked raising a brow.

"Did you see the Devil that night?" John asked. Henry looked at John, nervous.

"Yes," Henry responded. "It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes. It got him, tore at him, tore him apart. I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found." He said. Sherlock watched Henry intensely as John looked over to Sherlock.

"Hmm. Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous: dog? Wolf?" John asked.

"Or a genetic experiment," Sherlock said trying not to smile.

"Are you laughing at me, Mr. Holmes?" Henry asked.

"Why, are you joking?" Sherlock asked with an attitude making me sit back on the couch annoyed with him.

"My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously." Henry sighed.

"And, I assume, did wonders for Devon tourism." Sherlock pointed out.

"Yeah..." John began. John leaned forward to Henry and Sherlock rolled his eyes,

"Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?" John asked. Henry about blew off John's question and looked to Sherlock.

"I'm not sure you can help me, Mr. Holmes since you find it all so funny," Henry stated standing up and heading toward the door when he saw me. "Sorry Miss," he said to me. I stood up to shake his hand when Sherlock spoke.

"Because of what happened last night," Sherlock said. Both Henry and I turned to him.

"Why, what happened last night?" John asked.

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