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

Chapter 8: The Hounds of Baskerville

The hound begins to race towards us down the slope, its massive paws throwing up the soil in great wet spumes. "For God's sake! Kill it! Kill it!" Dr. Frankland yells. Lestrade misses the target. The hound ploughs on towards us, jaws dripping until - Bang! Bang! Bang! I stand behind lestrade and John with my rifles raised and breathing ragged. The hound shrieks in pain, rolling over and over. Sherlock drags Henry over to the wounded dog. "Look at it! Really look!" Henry stares at it and blinks. The hound is suddenly diminished. A big, savage looking Great Dane. But only a dog. It lies still. Suddenly Henry launches himself at Dr. Frankland, punching him violently to the ground. "Bastard! You bastard! You bastard! Twenty years! Twenty years of my life, making no sense! Why didn't you just kill me?" Henry asks.

Honestly, I felt bad for Henry. Twenty years of his life making no sense?! Tough luck. Lestrade drags Henry off of Dr. Frankland. "Ok, son. It's ok!" "Because dead men get listened to. Unless they're poor, pathetic mad men who've just murdered their therapists! It wasn't enough to kill you - he had to discredit every word you said," said Sherlock. "About my father's death," said Henry. "Exactly and Frankland had the means, right at his feet. A chemical minefield! Pressure pads on the ground! Dosing you up every time you came back here. Murder weapon and crime scene all at once. Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you! It's been brilliant!" Sherlock says with joy. "Sherlock!" John and I call out. "What?" "Timing, for God's sake. Not now!" John scolds. "Not good?" "His whole life's been messed up. Give him a minute -" John starts.

"No! No, no, it's ok. It's fine! Because it means my dad was right. Everything he said about Baskerville was true! He'd found something out, hadn't he? That's why you killed him. Because he wasn't mad, he was right! And he found you right in the middle of an experiment." Henry triumphant, the ghosts of his past, buried. But Dr. Frankland is smiling cynically. "I let him find me. Only way I could get him alone," Dr. Frankland said. Henry's face falls. "But why ... why would you ...?" "Your father had her too," said Dr. Frankland. A horrible silence forms as this hits home in Henry. Then ... growwwwl. Everyone swings around. It's the last sign of life from the hound. I fire my gun. Now the hound is definitely dead. But Dr. Frankland takes advantage of the distraction and tears off into darkness.

The five of us race after him. I soon gain speed on Dr. Frankland but he's still pulling ahead. I'm dodging trees and branches trying to get to the bastard. "God! To be young again with no joint pain," complained Lestrade seeing me pass by him and John very quickly. Dr. Frankland staggers on and reaches a trampled down wire fence. He pauses to grab a ragged breath, then clambers over. He doesn't notice the skull and crossbones warning sign. Dr. Frankland scrambles in his pocket to find a torch. With shaking fingers he clicks it on and points the beam dead ahead. The ground seems clear so he stumbles on. Suddenly, there's a dull metallic click. Hand shaking, Dr. Frankland brings the torch beam to bear on the ground at his feet. He's standing on a rusty pressure mine. The slightest wrong move ... Dr. Frankland swallows, petrified.

I was a couple meters away from the fence and I could see Dr. Frankland when - boooom! A massive fireball erupts across the moor. Sherlock, who was right behind me, yanked my back from the back of my collar since I was the closest to the explosion. John, Lestrade, and Henry stopped short and by the look on Henry's face, I could tell he was grimly satisfied.

...

The next morning, John is demolishing his breakfast. I sit across from reading A Little Life. Sherlock comes out of the pub, carrying three mugs of coffee. "So ... they didn't have it put down. The dog," Sherlock says a little puzzled. "Obviously. Suppose they just couldn't bring themselves to do it," said John. "I see." "No you don't," I said sipping my coffee. "No, I don't. Sentiment?" Sherlock asked me. "Sentiment," I agreed. John continues to eat. "Listen - what happened to me. In the lab. What was that all about?" "Do you want any sauce?" Sherlock asks evasively. "I'd never been to the hollow. So how come I heard those things? In there? Fear and stimulus, you said." "You must've been dosed elsewhere. When you went to look in the labs, maybe. You saw those pipes. Pretty ancient. Leaky as a sieve. And that's where the gas was coming from. Ketchup was it? Or, Brown?" Sherlock asked.

"Hang on," said John. He fixes Sherlock with a beady stare. "You thought it was in the sugar, right? You were convinced it was in the sugar." I hide behind my book silently laughing. I knew this was going to stab Sherlock in the back. "We'd better get going, actually. There's a train at -" It dawns on John. "It was you! You locked me in that bloody lab!" John yelled. "I had to. It was an experiment," said Sherlock. That wasn't the right move. "AN EXPERIMENT!" John bellows. "Shhh!" I told them both. People were starting to look. "I was terrified, Sherlock. I was scared to death," said John. "I thought the drug was in the sugar. So I put the sugar in your coffee. Then I arranged everything with Major Barrymore. It was all totally scientific. Laboratory conditions. Literally."

"I know what effect it had on a superior mind. I needed to try it on an average one," said Sherlock. John gives Sherlock an I-am-going-to-kill-you look. "Did you know about this too?" John asks me. "So sorry John. I swear I was against it in the first place." There was a beat of silence that followed. "But it wasn't in the sugar," John said. "No. I wasn't to know you'd already been exposed to the gas," said Sherlock. "So you got it wrong," I said smiling brightly. "No -" "You were wrong. You thought it was in the sugar. You got it wrong," John added catching on immediately. "A little bit. Won't happen again," said Sherlock. John calms down somewhat. "Any ... long ... term effects?" "Not at all. You'll be ok once you've excreted it. We all will," said Sherlock confidently. "Yeah, well. I think I might have taken care of that already," said John. Sherlock and John laughed while I cringed on the inside. Gary comes out of the pub. He catches Sherlock's eye and smiles feebly. Sherlock gets up. "Where are you going?" I ask. "Won't be a minute. Got to see a man about a dog."

...

Sherlock, John, and I were just about to get on the train when I received a message from Mycroft. I stopped and checked my phone. Sherlock was already on the train complaining about something. I looked down at the message and saw a picture of my dad. I tensed up and stood there staring at the photo. My dad was in a room that looked like a cell with just a chair and a table. He was bruised up and I could see a word scratched onto the mirror. It read SHERLOCK. The picture alone told me what was going to happen. "Lune, you alright?" John asked. I looked up at John and put a smile on my face. "I'm fine! Let's hurry up, I can't wait to go back home."