Vague Shadows

​“I am many things, Sherlock Holmes, but I am not a babysitter,” I growled to the curly-headed brat just in front of me. Sherlock glanced back and gave me a wicked smirk as John let out a sigh.

​“It’s already risky enough, getting the two of us into Baskerville,” John muttered as we walked down the sidewalk towards the front door. “Attempting to sneak a seventeen-year-old in as well will raise more warning flags than we need.”

​“Let me help in another way, then,” I griped. “I don’t want to keep an eye on him-“

​“It’s only for an hour, tops,” John promised as Sherlock gave two swift knocks on the door; a moment later, Henry answered and raised his brows.

​“M-Mr. Holmes, I wasn’t expecting you yet-“

​“We have things we need to do before we can start on the case,” Sherlock said, stepping aside to reveal me. “I’m leaving our assistant here to gather information while we compile our resources.”

​“Compiling resources my ass,” I muttered to Sherlock as I stepped past him and into Henry’s house. Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly, and I gave him a snarky look. Henry seemed lost for words as I turned and nodded at John.

​“Be safe, okay?” I said as he pulled me into a quick hug. He chuckled and patted my back.

​“We always are.”

​Sherlock glanced down at me, and I crossed my arms at him.

“If Mycroft has you locked up, don’t think I’ll be getting you out.”

“Nonsense,” Sherlock agreed. “I’d have you taken in as our accomplice.”

“Sod,” I told him, giving a half-hearted wave behind me as I walked into the living room. Henry shut the door and I watched from the window as Sherlock and John left. I heard Henry come into the room behind me, and I glanced at him. He gave me a timid smile.

“Uh, I don’t think I caught your name-“

“I’m Laicee,” I told him, stuffing my hands in my pockets and looking around. “It’s a nice place you have here.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said dismissively. “So, uh, what exactly is it you do, you know, as Sherlock’s assistant? What do you need from me?”

“Considering I just got the title a minute ago, I’ve got no clue,” I told him with a shrug. “Got anything new to tell me about the hounds?”

“No, uh, nothing. Nothing new since I visited Sherlock.”

“Right, well…” I trailed off, trying to ignore Henry staring at me. We stood in awkward silence for a few minutes as I tried to put myself into Sherlock’s shoes. What would he do? What would he need to know?

“So, Henry,” I began, sitting on the couch and patting the cushion next to me. He immediately came over and perched beside me, an awkward smile on his face. I gave him a tight smile back and scooted back an inch. “Who else have you talked to lately, about the hounds?”

“No one really… well my psychiatrist, but besides that, no one spends much time talking to me.”

“Right,” I sighed, ignoring him as he scooted a bit closer. “And what do you talk about?”

Henry’s explanation took nearly an hour and a half; he mostly mumbled on about the hounds and the moore, going over things Sherlock had already told me. More than once, he sidetracked himself and ended up talking about his vegetable garden and how he’d been specifically looking for a girlfriend as of late. By the time Sherlock and John knocked at the door, the only thing I’d gotten from him was that he had a passion for rutabagas a liking for curly hair.

I all but sprinted to let them in, and the look on my face must have said everything I was feeling. Sherlock gave me a wide, almost humorous grin, and John gave a sympathetic look.

“Having fun?” Sherlock asked, moseying past me towards the kitchen as Henry came up behind me.

“So much,” I told him, resisting the strong urge to strangle him mercilessly. “How was Baskerville?”

“Mycroft sends his regards,” Sherlock called over his shoulder. I rolled my eyes as I fell into step beside John.

“Find anything?” I murmured.

“Genetic experiments on animals, but we can’t link that to the hound just yet,” John explained; as we reached the kitchen, Sherlock took his seat, and Henry turned to me.

“Coffee?” he asked, his question more or less only directed at me.

“Black, two sugars,” Sherlock requested, and I gave him a look. He quirked a brow as John sat beside him. Henry nodded awkwardly as he put the pot of coffee on to brew, and once it was ready the four of us gathered around the counter.

“So there’s nothing else you can tell us about the hounds?” I pressed; Henry let out a sigh.

“There’s really only that, what I’ve already explained. Well, I mean, there are words, two words. But I don’t think-“

“What are they?” Sherlock mused, taking a sip of coffee. Henry frowned at the counter as I did my best not to be irrationally mad at Sherlock. It wasn’t his fault he’d just gotten farther with Henry in two minutes than I had in an hour.

“Liberty. Liberty, and In. But other than that, nothing. Just that.”

John and I exchanged a puzzled glance, and I saw Sherlock’s face brighten with curiosity.

“What now then?” Henry asked us, and John glanced at Sherlock.

“Well, Sherlock’s got a plan, yes?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said, a little too excitedly. “We take you back out onto the moore and see if anything attacks you.”

“What?” the three of us asked him incredulously. Sherlock sipped his coffee, gave a smile, and waited for us to accept his plan. I wanted to argue and suggest something less dangerous, but, in all actuality, Sherlock’s plan would get us the answers we needed in the shortest time.

“Well, I mean, I guess that’s all we can do,” I mused, and Henry nodded in acceptance; John didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t argue.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

***

“Stay together,” John ordered us as we headed off into the woods. It was a cloudy, calm night, and the chill in the air stung my cheeks. I bundled my hoodie a little tighter around me. Sherlock took one flashlight and broke off into a quick stride, with Henry right beside him to lead. John took the other one and fell in behind them, beckoning me to stay near.

I walked beside him, my arm pressed against his to guide me as I looked around. We had only been walking for ten minutes when there was an unnatural rustle from the bushes to my left. As I took a few steps forward, John took a few steps back.

“John-“ I started to ask; he held up his hand.

“Morse code,” he breathed. “Two seconds, let’s see… U…”

I went quiet, and had started to forget the unnatural noise when I heard more scraping coming from behind me. I turned and frowned at the bushes. After another moment’s pause, the bushes rustled again.

“I think something’s there,” I murmured to John, not taking my eyes off the bush. “I’ll be right back.

The leaves rustled again, and I tensed. I crouched down a bit, and slowly slipped into the bushes, my entire body on red-alert. I held still for a moment, and when the branch next to me rustled, I whirled and shoved it aside.

A rabbit shot forward between my feet and raced off into the dark; my heart shot into my throat, and I clutched my chest as I tried to steady my rapid breathing. I took a moment to compose myself, then straightened and slipped out of the bushes.

“Just a rabbit,” I whispered, stepping back onto the path. I paused and glanced around. “John?” I turned again, and frowned. “Sherlock? Henry?”

The path was empty, and the night was still quiet. Concerned, and slightly put-off about being out here alone, I turned in the direction we’d been headed and hurried off in search of Sherlock.

“Guys?” I breathed after nearly ten minutes of jogging. I still hadn’t run into anyone, and apparently John had left his phone at Henry’s, because he didn’t answer my call for the eighth time. I paused and leaned up against a tree, catching my breath. I’d only just slumped over when an eerie howl broke the night.

I jumped up, tense and a bit unnerved. A few moments later, another howl –accompanied by a snarl- rose up and shattered the echo of the last one. It had come from the trail ahead of me; I took off, faster than before.

“Sherlock!” I called, not caring about being quiet now. I tore through the trees as another how broke out, and I was just about to scream again when I slammed into something solid and fast-moving.

Sherlock barely managed to catch me before I stumbled back. He righted me and then immediately dropped his hands, backing up and swerving around me. His eyes were wild, and his already pale face was a sickly white.

“Sherlock, hold on,” I said quickly, turning and grabbing his coatsleeve. He jerked his arm away from me and continued walking. Henry raced up the path and bumped into me, looking just as spooked (if not more) than Sherlock did.

“That howling-“ I began.

“We saw it, we saw the hound,” Henry almost cried, grabbing onto me and looking terrified. “It’s huge, it’s here. We need to leave, now!”

Still holding me, Henry took off after Sherlock, towing me along. I could see John’s outline just ahead, and I almost collapsed in relief. We were all together, and we were (relatively) okay.

“Did you hear that?” John asked us as Sherlock rushed past. I snagged John’s hand as Henry continued to tow me after him.

“It was the hound, it was there,” he urged, almost running to keep up with Sherlock. I stumbled awkwardly behind; my short legs couldn’t keep up with the tall men’s long strides.

“No,” Sherlock growled, not even looking back at us. “I didn’t see anything.”

“But, no, you had to have seen it,” Henry argued. “I saw it, so you must have-“

“I didn’t see anything.”

***

Sherlock didn’t speak the rest of the way back to Dartmoor. At Henry’s house, he barely stopped the car long enough for Henry and I to get out.

“I’ll meet you at the Inn,” I said to John, giving him a look as I followed Henry inside. Sherlock peeled out of the driveway and left us alone, driving faster than I’d ever seen him go.

“I saw it,” Henry murmured to me, shoving the door out of his way as he hurried inside. “I did, it was there. Laicee, you have to believe me, I saw the hound-“

“Henry, shh. I know. I know you saw it. But come on, you need to sleep. You’re worked up, so lets calm down and get you to bed, yeah?”

“But it was there, the hound was there,” Henry said, a few tears running down his cheeks. “It was there, it’s coming after me-“

I grabbed out the container of sleeping pills John had slipped to me in the car, and I hurried to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When I came back, Henry was collapsed on his couch, the TV going, staring wide-eyed at the screen.

I sat by his head, nudging him gently; he sat up and looked over at me, his eyes red-rimmed and his expression miserable. I handed him the pills and the water, and made sure he took them both.

“Don’t leave me, please, Laicee. Don’t leave me. The hound is going to kill me. It’s coming for me, it’s going to-“

“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?” I told him, offering up a small smile. Henry nodded, and then shifted himself around on the couch. He put his head on the opposite end of the couch, and tucked his feet up by me. I grabbed the comforter off the back of a nearby chair and draped it over him as I settled back onto the couch to wait.

Henry passed out twenty minutes later, snoring lightly and looking at ease for once. I stood silently and stretched, then grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head. Grabbing my coat, I checked him over one last time, locked the back door, and slipped out the front.

I had just walked back into town when I heard the Inn door swing open. John came storming out into the night, pausing a few feet from the door and running a hand through his hair.

“John?” I asked, hurrying over to him. He threw his hand down and glanced over at me.

“He’s unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable,” he growled, and I rushed up to him, resting a hand on his arm.

“What’s he done now?” I asked, and John just shook his head.

“I’m done with him, I can’t do this right now. I’ll be back later, don’t wait up for me.”

With that, John took off down the dirt road, mumbling something about an Umqra as he shook his head. I stood in the middle of the road, puzzled and a little put off, not sure what to do. I could hear Sherlock’s murmuring coming from inside, and figured dealing with him would be my best bet.

Sherlock was just heading upstairs to the rooms when I came in; he didn’t see me, so I rushed up after him. He paused at the room door to unlock it, and I came up beside him.

“Are you alright?” I asked; he said nothing, pushing the door open and hurrying in. I slipped in behind him and shut the door, leaning against it as I stared at him. “Sherlock?”

He stood still in the middle of the room, his hands clenched tight and his head bowed. His shoulders hunched in, and I could see his heavy breathing. Slowly, I came forward and stretched my hand out to him, resting my palm lightly on his back. He whirled at my touch and I leapt back, startled.

“How do you do it? How do you deal with these, these feelings all the time?” he snarled, gripping his hair angrily and looking around the room wildly. I backed up against the door again. “All this fear, this uncertainty. This constant overwhelming feeling of.. of feeling! It’s unbearable. I can’t- I don’t know-“

“Sherlock, calm down,” I murmured, reaching out to him again. He didn’t react to my move at all, and this time when I touched him, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and began to draw in deep, angry breaths. Wordlessly, I moved to face him, and did the only thing I could think of.

I slid my arms gently around his waist and pulled him to me. He didn’t react at first as I rested my head against his chest and held him, my fingers stroking his back gently. And then finally, after several uncertain moments, Sherlock’s hands slowly moved from his face to my shoulders. He slid his hands around me and held me tight to him, pressing his face into my hair.

We stood like that in the center of the room for a long time. I was almost certain he was crying, but I said nothing and made no effort to pull away. I simply held onto him and waited until his breathing had calmed down.

He pulled back first, saying nothing as he turned towards the closet. He pulled off his overcoat and then unbuttoned his shirt. Keeping quiet as well, I fished out my shorts and tank top and slipped into the bathroom to change. When I came back out, Sherlock was standing beside the window, wearing only pajama pants. His pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, and his dark curls fell into his eyes, giving him an almost lifeless look.

Slowly, I walked up beside him, pausing for a moment to stare at the world outside. As I looked, I lifted my hand and rested it on Sherlock’s side. He turned his head and stared down at me, and then he completely turned to face me.

Once again, we didn’t speak. Sherlock cupped my face in his hands and then pressed his lips to mine with a passion he’d never had before. All his fear, his doubt, his anxiety… all his newfound and unwanted feelings coursed through him as he kissed me so powerfully I lost my breath.

I encircled my arms around his waist and pulled myself closer, pressing myself to him. Sherlock’s hands dropped from my face to my hips, his hands taking hold of me and holding me to him. We broke our kiss only for a moment as Sherlock moved us forward; I fell to the bed and pulled him down with me.

Our lips met again, more eagerly than before. Sherlock’s hands found mine, and he lifted my arms up over my head, pinning my wrists to the bed as he pressed himself down onto me.

After several minutes of breathless kissing, Sherlock finally pulled back just a bit to look down at me. His curls hung down around his face, and his clear eyes glinted white in the moonlight. With one arm he propped himself up over me, and his free hand moved my tangled curls off my face.

And then I realized why his eyes were glinting; he was on the verge of tears. My stomach knotted. Not once in the two years I’d known him had I ever seen Sherlock Holmes cry.

But here he was, leaning over me in the dead of night, his cool body against mine, tears pooling in his eyes and threating to spill down his cheeks. I reached up delicately and pressed my hand to his face, sweeping away the beginning of tears from his eyes.

“I am afraid, Laicee,” he said quietly, staring down at me. I could see the vulnerability in his face. I could see the rare, human emotions showing through, and I knew he wouldn’t have said that to anyone else. He trusted me in the time his innermost self was exposed, and it was at that moment I started to realize how much I meant to him.

“I am too, Sherlock,” I said softly. “You aren’t alone, and you shouldn’t convince yourself you are.”

Sherlock pulled back from me, rolling to the side and shifting so he was stretched out on the bed. Immediately, I sat up and moved to his side, perching next to him and staring down at him.

“Emotions cannot be a part of me,” Sherlock murmured, his gaze locked on the ceiling. “Emotions cloud my mind, they… they toy with me. They break me down, they take me over. I can’t.. I can’t do this.”

“I know you saw something out there,” I said, leaning back against the wall and pulling my knees to my chest. “I don’t know what, but I know that you’ll be able to figure this out, too. You always do.”

“Once you have ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true,” he told me, rolling his head to the side. “I have learned what I know by following that. I have worked by that, I have practiced by that, I have lived by that, all my life. And now, now it is useless.”

“It’s not,” I told Sherlock quietly, slipping down to lie beside him. I stretched out on my back and folded my hands on my stomach, then looked over at him.

“I’m not following,” he said, his voice slow and uncertain.

“You believe you’re going insane because you saw a gigantic hound on the moore,” I said. “So let’s rule out the impossible- you can’t be going insane, can you? No, you’re much too brilliant for that. So whatever remains –you seeing something- must be true. You saw something, so now we have to figure out what.”

Sherlock looked away and said nothing to this for a long time. We fell into a tired silence, and after nearly twenty minutes, I felt him shift in the bed to look at me.

“Again you are lying next to me in the dead of the night. Again you’ve brought me back from the edge of my mind, and again, you have followed me to hell and back.”

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. I stared at him for a moment and shrugged my shoulders.

“I told you I’d follow you anywhere, and so far I’m keeping to it.”

“You are quite possibly the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met,” he said softly to me, and I blushed. “Besides myself, of course.”

“You sod,” I laughed, sitting up. Sherlock did as well, and he glanced around.

“It’s nearly three in the morning. Where’s John?”

“He was headed on a walk when I came round,” I said to him, and Sherlock sighed heavily. “He seemed pretty upset with you.”

“I would imagine so.”

“You should apologize,” I said, getting up off the bed and stretching as I walked over to my cot. No sharing of beds while John was in the same room. So far, he was more or less unaware of my intimacy with Sherlock, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“I’ll give him tonight,” Sherlock decided, lying back down on the bed; I rolled my eyes.

“You just don’t want to get up, you lazy arse.”

“Goodnight, Laicee,” he murmured; I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Goodnight, Sherlock. If you wake me in the morning, I’ll strangle you.”

“Always the charmer,” he murmured as I settled down. I smiled into my pillow as the two of us began to drift off.

Yes, I would follow him anywhere.