Vague Shadows

​It was just past nine when I finally rolled out of the cot. For once, I’d actually gotten a decent nights sleep. I was grateful Sherlock had either managed to sleep himself, or had figured I wasn’t joking about strangling him and he’d opted to keep quiet.

​A note was taped to the door, and I ripped it off as I headed into the bathroom, clothes bundled in my arms.

​Following leads, text when we’re done. Stay out of trouble. –SH

​There was another note scrawled on the back, and I flipped it over, already guessing who’d left it.

​Laicee, I left you some money on the nightstand. Get some breakfast and wait for us to come get you. Don’t wander, it’s probably not safe. –JW

​I sighed and sat everything down on the counter as I climbed into the shower. It seemed as if I was stuck at the inn until the boys wandered back to pick me up. After drying off and dressing, I grabbed the money and then headed downstairs to the pub, deciding to obey for once.

​“Mornin’ sweetheart,” Gary, the pub owner, called to me. “Your men are out and about. You’ll be wantin’ breakfast yeah?”

​I gave him a smile and hopped up onto the stool, leaning on my elbows.

​“Please. Eggs and toast, if it’s not too much trouble.”

​“Nonsense,” he laughed, tying an apron on and bustling back to the stove. I settled into my seat, leaning over and grabbing a napkin and one of Gary’s pens; I had an inability to sit down and just wait, so I had to preoccupy myself.

​I’d doodled on nearly half the napkin when someone pulled up a stool next to me. I glanced up, expecting Sherlock or John, and nearly fell out of my seat in shock when I saw who was smiling at me.

​“Lestrade!” I exclaimed, and then caught him off guard as I leaned forward and gave him a hug. “What are you doing here?”

​Lestrade pulled his sunglasses off and let out a sigh.

​“I’m working on a kidnapping,” he told me, and I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Teen girl, about 5’3”, brown hair, green eyes, wicked temper-“

​“You’re hilarious, you know that?” I muttered, rolling my eyes at him. “I’m 5’2”, for your records, and I’m not kidnapped-“

​“There’s a warrant being issued for the arrest of her kidnappers,” Lestrade continued, his brow’s drawing together as he gave me a serious look. “Two males. One tall, pale, dark-haired. The other shorter, tanned skin, light hair-“

​“I’m looking for them too, actually,” I said, giving Gary a warm smile as he handed me my breakfast; Lestrade gave me a look, and I let out a heavy sigh.

​“Do you really believe that Sherlock and John kidnapped me?”

​“Of course not, Laicee,” he said, his voice tired. “But Anderson has enough evidence to file a warrant, and he and Donovan are riling up everyone at Scotland Yard. I can only do so much. I came out here to give the boys a warning, and to make sure you know what could happen.”

​“That’s not the only reason,” I pointed out, quirking my brow. “Mycroft had you come to keep an eye on Sherlock for him.

Lestrade frowned and sat up a bit straighter, crossing his arms as I munched my toast.

​“What makes you think-“

​“If you just came out here to warn me, you would be stopping in. You have a room key- you stayed the night last night. Must have gotten in late, possibly swung by on your way home from vacation, taking in the new tan. Someone requested you to be here, and I know it wasn’t anyone from Scotland Yard. Donovan and Anderson acted when you weren’t there, so why have you come talk to me? No, I have a feeling the Chief doesn’t want you anywhere near this ‘case’. The only other person with the authority to order you around is Mycroft, and after Sherlock’s stunt yesterday, it’s no surprise you’re here for him.”

​I finished and scooped some eggs into my mouth; when Lestrade didn’t answer after a moment, I looked up at him. He was staring wide-eyed down at me, a look of pure bewilderment on his face.

​“What?”

​“That was brilliant,” he told me. I scoffed and took another bite of my breakfast.

​“Hardly,” I told him as my phone went off; I pulled it out and opened the text. “Simple observation, nothing extraordinary.”

​Where are you? –SH

​The pub at the Inn. I’ve got a surprise for you. –LB

​“You sound just like him, you know,” Lestrade told me, amusement on his face. “The first day I met him, he solved a five-year murder mystery in just under three minutes. He told me I see, but I don’t observe.”

​“Well, that’s the problem with a lot of people,” I said simply. “Trust me, living with Sherlock, seeing things from his point of view, you begin to pick up on it. It’s a bit annoying, actually, seeing the things people don’t want you to.”

​As Lestrade smiled at me, an angry, startled voice cut through the pub.

​“What the hell are you doing here?”

​“Oh, nice to see you too,” Lestrade griped, getting up and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Sherlock paused in front of him, and his eyes darted to me.

​“You didn’t think to mention that he was here?”

​“I told you I had a surprise,” I said, waving my hand at him. “Ta-da!”

​“I was expecting eggs,” Sherlock said flatly, giving me a look. I shrugged and finished off my toast.

​“Put some cheese on him, I’m sure he’ll taste just fine.”

​“I’m still waiting for an answer, inspector,” Sherlock said as he gave me an aggravated look, turning away as I gave him a cheeky grin. I saw Sherlock narrow his eyes briefly, and then let out an aggravated sigh. “Oh, this is Mycroft, isn’t it?”

​I chuckled quietly, seeing Lestrade’s eyes dart to me in disbelief that the two of us had just figured him out.

​“Now look-“

​“Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to spy on me, incognito! Is that why you’re calling yourself Greg?”

​“Oh bloody hell,” I muttered as John gave him an incredulous look.

​“That’s his name, Sherlock!”

​“Is it?”

​“My god,” I sighed, hopping up and sliding my plate across the counter.

​“Yes, it is,” Lestrade growled. “If you’d ever bothered to find out. And I’m not your handler.”

​“Actually,” John mused. “You could be just the man we need.”

​“Really?”

​“A big scary detective from Scotland Yard, here to ask questions and put in calls to the Chief, yes, we could use some help.”

​As the boys moved to go back and talk with Gary and Billy, Sherlock glanced at me.

​“Wait out here, keep an eye on things,” he told me, flipping his coat collar up; I gave him a look.

​“I can’t come back?”

​“Not on an official police interrogation,” Lestrade apologized, and I frowned; John gave me an apologetic look.

​“We’ll be right out, Laicee.”

​“Alright,” I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets and strolling out of the pub. I might as well wait in fresh air, right? I settled on the grass across from the Inn and pulled out my phone, pulling up a mindless puzzle game and distracting myself.

​Nearly half an hour went by before the boys came outside.

​“So you believe them, about having the dog put down?”

​“No reason not to,” Sherlock mused, and I jogged up to them, stepping up beside John and Sherlock. Lestrade slipped his sunglasses on and began to walk away.

​“Right, well I’m off to have a word with the local force. I’ve got my phone, if you’ll need me.”

​He disappeared around the corner, and I turned to Sherlock.

​“Right. Now what?” I asked, and Sherlock shared a look with John. I frowned.

​“I’ve got a theory, but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it.”

​I let out a sigh, already knowing where this was going.

​“I can’t come, can I?”

​John shook his head and I shrugged.

​“Right, well, give me a lift to Henry’s then.”

***

​“You look awful,” I told Henry, slipping inside the house. He let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his tired eyes, leading me into the den.

​“I didn’t sleep, not really,” he muttered. “I keep having.. these horrible dreams…”

​“Tell me about them,” I soothed, knowing I’d need to get Henry talking a bit quicker this time. We settled on the couch, and Henry leaned back, shutting his eyes and covering his face with his hands.

​“I’m in a field, running,” he murmured. “The hound is chasing me. He’s right after me. Snarling. Red eyes. He’s so, so furious, he’s going to kill me-“

​Henry broke off and I could see him begin to shake, as if the fear of remembering was almost too much for him.

​“Henry, calm down,” I said softly, resting my hand on his knee. “Take a breath-“

​“Every time I close my eyes, he’s there, waiting for me,” Henry gasped, his breaths growing desperate and ragged. “He’s after me, that hell hound, he’s going to kill me-“

​“Henry-“

​“Oh god, he’s here,” Henry breathed, and then his gasping cut off, and he went completely still.

​“Henry?”

​I leaned forward over him, reaching out for his hand. Henry shot up and threw me off of him, letting out a terrified scream. I hit the ground and let out a yelp, more startled than hurt.

​My shout seemed to be enough to shake Henry from his vicious memory, though, and he turned to look at me.

​“I’m sorry Laicee, I’m so sorry-“ he said quickly, getting up and helping me to my feet. “It’s been so bad, lately, I can’t control it-“

​“It’s fine Henry, I understand,” I told him, giving him an assuring smile as my phone went off. As Henry went to get some water, I read the text.

​We’ll be in Baskerville overnight. Lestrade can come pick you up when you’re ready to go to the Inn. Everything ok with Henry? –JW

​I had just started to reply when I heard a glass shatter in the kitchen. Stowing my phone in my pocket, I raced to find Henry. I had just skid around the corner, just opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, when a cup came flying at my head. I just barely managed to drop down in time to avoid the glass.

​It hit the wall behind me and shattered, and I jumped away from the shards. As I did, Henry burst forward and grabbed my arm, slamming me into the opposite wall.

​“Henry, stop it!” I shouted, pulling away from him as his eyes glinted with fear.

​“He was here! In my house! Chasing me! Laicee he’s coming for me, he’s finished toying with me! He’s going to kill me!”

​I grabbed hold of Henry’s shoulders and pulled him to me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and giving him a tight hug. He began to cry, burying his face down into my shoulder as I rubbed his back soothingly.

​“It’s alright, Henry. I’m here with you, and I promise the hound won’t hurt you.”

​“Louise says he can only hurt me if I let him,” Henry mumbled into my shirt; I nodded, assuming Louise was his psychiatrist.

​“She’s right. So long as you don’t let him get to you, you’ll be okay. Here, go lie down, I’ll make you a hot cup of tea, okay?”

​Henry nodded and pulled away, shuffling around the glass and back into the living room. I heard the TV click on, and I pulled my phone out.

​Not at all. He’s really out of it today. Do you have Louise’s number? –LB

​I put the kettle on as John sent me her number, and I called immediately.

​“Hi, Louise, I was wondering if I could get your help with Henry…”

​***
​
​“And do you see these lights often?” Louise asked Henry; we’d been at this for almost the entire day. Henry laid on the couch, and Louise sat across from him in a small armchair. I had settled on the ground, listening to the conversation, texting John and Sherlock anything that seemed relevant.

​As Henry talked, he began to doze off again. Twice he’d fallen asleep, and twice he’d woken up racing at Louise and I. As his eyes shut, I hopped up and hurried over to him, taking his shoulders and shaking gently.

​“Henry, come on, wake up,” I murmured, bracing myself for more shouting. But this time, his eyes slowly opened, and he looked up at me, half-yawning half-smiling. I had just returned the smile when a passing car’s headlights flashed into the room. They hit the mirror and Henry flinched down into the cushions.

​“Henry-“ I began, but that had done it. Henry let out a scream and shoved me roughly back; I hit the ground, and immediately skittered back as Henry jumped to his feet.

​“He’s here! Oh god, oh god, he’s here, no, no, NO!” Henry shrieked, sprinting out of the den. I got to my feet as Louise stood, and we shared a look. She began to reach into her purse, producing a small syringe.

​“I’ll have to sedate him,” she sighed, and we both looked up as we heard Henry racing back towards us.

​“I’ll grab him, you stick him,” I said, heading forward as she nodded. Henry rounded the corner, and I froze.

​He spun wildly, jerking at nonexistent noises and looking for the hound he’d never find. What scared me, though, was the gun he had clutched in a shaking hand.

​“Henry, my god, put that down!” I shouted, and he whirled. He wasn’t even part-way with us. He didn’t see me. He seemed to look through me.

​He lifted the gun, and I heard Louise let out a frightened cry. I immediately backed up as he began to spin around the room, pointing the gun at different spots, muttering “the hound’s going to kill me, so I’m killing it,” over and over.

​Louise and I had just backed up into the wall when Henry rounded on us again. His eyes were wild as he lifted the gun, and my heart constricted painfully.

​Henry was going to kill us.

***
​John frowned down at his phone as it began to ring. As he pulled it from his pocket, his stomach tightened when he saw the name. Sherlock caught John’s worried look, and he slowly stood from the table turning to watch John as he talked.

​“Laicee?”

​“John, my god, he’s lost it-“ Laicee cried, loud enough for Sherlock to hear. His face drew into a concerned frown as John’s concern immediately doubled.

​“Laicee what’s going on-“

​“He- he thinks the hound is here, he thinks we’re the hound- HENRY! No, put it down, please Henry-“

​“What’s happening-“

​“He has a gun, John! He’s so frightened-“

​Sherlock’s expression fell from his face as John whirled to look at Sherlock, too frightened for what could happen.

​“Laicee, get away-“ John begged. In the background, he could hear Louise in tears, and he heard Henry shouting at the hound he was imagining.

​“We can’t, he’s got us in the room- HENRY NO! Louise get down! Henry wait-“

​Laicee’s words broke off as a gunshot tore through the room. The phone hit the ground, and the line went dead. John’s breath left him in one sharp wave as his own phone fell from his hands.

​“Sherlock, she’s got to be okay. She has to,“ he choked out, begging for confirmation. But Sherlock could offer him no condolence, no assurance, no promise to his statement, because for once, he didn’t have an answer.