Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Hounds Of Baskerville- Eight

Chapter Eight

Standing in a small snug next to the bar,Greg is sits at a table looking through paperwork, presumably invoices from Undershaw. Gary the manager and Billy the chef sit at the other side of the table looking at him anxiously. Sherlock pours a cup of coffee from a filter machine he ostentatiously taps the drips off the spoon into the cup and then picks up the cup and its saucer and carries them over to John, offering it to him. "What's this?"

"Coffee. I made coffee."

"You never make coffee."

"I just did. Don't you want it?"

"You don't have to keep apologising." I watch the scene, as Sherlock pulls an hurt expression on his face. John relents and takes the cup and saucer. "Thanks." Sherlock smiles happily. John lifts the cup to his mouth, takes a mouthful and grimaces. "Mm. I don't take sugar..." the hurt expression comes back onto Sherlock's face as he looks away again. He's like a puppy whose owner has just told him off for chewing his slippers. John looks at his face and feels that he has no choice but to take a longer drink from the cup.

"These records go back nearly two months." Lestrades voice rings out. Grimacing at the taste, John puts the cup back into the saucer and looks at Sherlock. "That's nice. That's good." He turns away to put the drink down on a nearby mantelpiece while Greg continues interrogating Gary and Billy. I stroll up to Sherlock. "What was that about?"

"I haven't the faintest of what your talking about." He denies. "Your making out to be a terrible liar."

"Is that when you had the idea, after the TV show went out?" Lestrade asks. "It's me. It was me." Billy turns to his partner. "I'm sorry, Gary I couldn't help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Cal's wedding and one thing just led to another..."

"Nice try." I state. The boys turn around, before Gary partly gives in. "Look, we were just trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know? A great big dog run wild up on the moor it was heaven-sent. It was like us having our own Loch Ness Monster."

"Where do you keep it?"

"There's an old mineshaft. It's not too far. It was all right there."

" 'Was'?"

"We couldn't control the bloody thing. It was vicious." He sighs inwardly. "And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and, er... You know."

"It's dead?" John deadpanned. "Put down."

"Yeah. No choice. So it's over."

"It was just a joke, you know?" I scoff from disbelief. "Yeah, hilarious. You've nearly driven a man out of his mind." Lestrade stands up and walks out the room, John in tow. Sherlock peers into the cup John used before following the boys.

"Is he? That's nice. I suppose he likes having all the same faces back together. Appeals to his... His..."

"Asperger's?"

Sherlock catches up to them and glanced to John from his last word. "So, you believe him about having the dog destroyed?"

"No reason not to."

"There's every reason to believe that the dog wasn't destroyed." I mumbled. "Well, hopefully there's no harm done. Not quite sure what I'd charge him with anyway. I'll have a word with the local Force. Right, that's that, then. Catch you later. I'm enjoying this! It's nice to get London out of your lungs!"

"So that was their dog that people saw out on the moor?" John turns to us in question. "Looks like it."

"But that wasn't what you saw. That wasn't just an ordinary dog."

"No." Sherlocks gaze hardens. "It was immense, had burning red eyes and it was glowing, John. Its whole body was glowing." He shudders in thought before intertwining our hands making way to the car park. "I've got a theory but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it."

"How? Can't pull off the ID trick again." Sherlock turns to me, smirking. "Might not have to." I eye roll. "Fine." Taking his phone out of his pocket he hits speed dial, talking insincerely into the phone. "Hello, brother dear. How are you?"