Sherlock allowed the man into the flat. He had brought a video with him. Alex put it in the DVD player and played it. She, John, and Sherlock watched it in silence. It was about a place called Dartmoor. The man appeared on the screen. He was talking about what had killed his father. Just as he was about to tell the interviewer what he saw. Sherlcok turned it off.

"What did you see?" He asked.

"I was just about to say." The man, named Henry, said.

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

"Yes, sorry. Of course." Harry said. He blew his nose.

"In your own time." John smiled.

"But quite quickly." Sherlock said. 

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

"No." Sherlock shook his head.

"It's an amazing place, like no where else. It's sort of bleak, but beautiful." Henry said.

"Hm, not interested, moving on." Sherlock said. John gave him a look and Alex glared at him.

"Dude!" She said. 

"We used to go for walks after my mum died, me and my dad. Every evening, we'd go out onto the moor." Henry said.

"Yes, good, skipping to the night your dad was violently killed." Sherlock said. "Where did that happen?"

"I'm sorry, sir, he's...always like this." Alex sighed.

"There's a place, it's sort of a local landmark. It's called Dewar's Hollow. That's an acient name for the devil." Henry said.

"So?" Sherlock said.

"Did you see the devil that night?" John asked.

"Yes." Henry whispered. "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."

"It could have just been a wolf. It sounds kind of like one." Alex said, looking to Sherlock.

"Or a genetic experiment." Sherlock said. He turned away, fighting a smile that was creeping up on his lips. A small chuckle escaped him.

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

"Why are you joking?" Sherlock asked.

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

"I assume it did wonder for Devon Tourism." Sherlock said.

"Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was 20 years ago. Why come to us now?" John asked.

"I'm not sure you can help me, Mr. Holmes." Henry said. "Since you find it all so funny."

"Because of what happened last night." Sherlock said.

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

"How do you know?" Henry asked.

"I don't know." Sherlock said. "I noticed. Came up from Devon on the first available train this morning, had a disappointed breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl on the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first ciggerete of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do please smoke. I'd be delighted." 

Henry sat down, looking confused. "How on earth did you notice all that?" 

"It's not important." John said.

"Punched out holes for your tickets-" Sherlock started.

"We've had enough deductions for now, Sherlock." Alex said.

"Oh please, I've been cooped up here for ages." Sherlock said.

"You're showing off!" Alex said.

"Of course I'm showing off! It's what we do!" Sherlock smiled. Alex couldn't help but blush and allow him to continue. "Train napkin, you used it to mop up the spill of the coffee, strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. The traces of ketchup on it and on your lips and on your sleeve show cooked breakfast, nearest thing those trains can manage, probably a sandwhich."

"How did you know it was disappointing?" Henry asked.

"Is there any other kind of breakfast on a train?" Sherlock asked. "The girl, female handwriting is quite distinctive, wrote her phone number on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote it at that she sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later, after she got off, I imagine you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidently smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe your not that into her after all. Then there's the nicotine stain on your fingers, your shaking fingers. I know the signs. No chance to smoke on the train. It's just after 9:15 and you're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six A.M. you were on the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right. You are." Henry said. "You are completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick."

"It's my job. Now shut up and smoke." Sherlock said.

"Henry, your parents both died, and you were what, seven years old?" John asked. Henry had just lit his ciggerete. Sherlock got up and breathed in the smoke, getting relief instantly. John and Alex exchanged a look. 

"That must be quite a trauma." Alex said. "I'm not laughing at you, nor making fun of you, but hear me out: Do you think that maybe you invented this story-" 

Sherlock breathed in the smoke again. Alex pushed him back to his chair and glared playfully at him.

"I'm trying to talk!" She whined. "Anyways, do you think that maybe you invented this story to account for it?"

"That's what Dr. Moritmer says." Henry said.

"Who?" John asked.

"His therepist." Alex said. "Obviously."

"Louise Mortimer, she's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons." Henry said. 

"What happened when you went back to Dewar's Hollow last night, Henry? You went on the advice of your therapist and you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?" Sherlock asked.

"It's a strange place, the hollow." Henry said. "Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid." 

"Yes, if I wanted poetry, I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends, much funnier." Sherlock said. "What did you see?"

"Footprints. On the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart." Henry whispered.

"A man's or a woman's?" John asked.

"Neither." Henry said.

"Is that it, nothing else? Footprints, is that all?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." Henry nodded.

"Sorry, Dr. Mortimer wins." Sherlock said. "Childhood trauma masked by invented memory, boring! Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Thank you for smoking."

"What about the footprints?" Henry asked.

"Oh, they might've been paw prints, could be anything, therefore nothing." Sherlock said. "Off to Devon with you. Have a little cream tea on me."

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" Henry yelled. Sherlock stopped. He had been walking away at this point.

"Say that again." He said.

"I found footprints, they were-" Henry started.

"No, no, no, your exact words, repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them." Sherlock said.

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound." Henry said carefully.

"I'll take the case." Sherlock said, smiling slightly.

"Sorry, what?" John said.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It's very promising." Sherlock said.

"You are so changeable! One minute ago footprints are boring, now they're promising?" Alex said.

"It's nothing to do with footprints, Alex. As ever, my friend, you weren't listening." Sherlock said. "Baskerville, ever heard of it?"

"No." Alex said.

"Sounds like a good place to start then." Sherlock said.

"Oh, you'll come down then?" Henry asked.

"I can't leave London at the moment." Sherlock said. "Far too busy. But don't worry. I'm putting my best man onto it. Always rely on John to send me the relevent data as he never understands a word of it himself."

"What are you talking about, you're busy?" John asked. "You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining-"

"Bluebell, John, I've got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing rabbit!" Sherlock said.

"We're really doing that?" Alex said. "I have to pick out a song for that?"

"Oh, sorry, you're not coming then?" Henry asked.

Sherlock sadly shook his head at Alex. She sighed and got up. She picked up Sherlock's skull, which was where she and John had hid his ciggeretes. Alex picked them up and tossed them to Sherlock. He threw them behind them.

"Don't need them. I'm going to Dartmoor. You can go ahead, Henry. We'll follow later." Sherlock said.

"So you are coming?" Henry asked.

"Twenty-year old disappearence, a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!" Sherlock said.

Henry left after that. Alex was feeling the strong desire for a pet dog after all the talk about dogs. She put on her jacket. John was packing everything they would need for their stay. Sherlock tilted his head. 

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"To the animal shelter. I want to pet dogs." Alex said. 

"I'm coming with you." Sherlock said.

"Alright." Alex shrugged.

They went to the nearest animal shelter. Alex asked to look at the dogs, and one of the workers, who was an old friend of hers, granted them access. Alex found a beautiful black lab puppy and pointed it out to Sherlock.

"He's so cute!" She said.

"It's just a dog." Sherlock said.

"Look at him!" Alex said. "How could you not love that face?"

"Because I'm me." Sherlock said. 

"Can we take him out?" Alex asked her friend.

"Sure." The woman nodded. She picked up the black lab puppy and led them to a room where the puppy wouldn't be overwhelmed. "His name is Jackson."

"He is so cute!" Alex cooed. 

The woman closed the door. Alex put the puppy on the floor. It ran up to Sherlock, who was sitting on the bench they had in there. Sherlock let out a little scream and pulled his legs up. Alex burst out laughing.

"It's a puppy! He won't hurt you!" Alex said. "Look, I'll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom." 

"Alright." Sherlock glared at Alex. "I hate you for this."

"Trust me. You'll like him." Alex said.

She left for a few minutes. When she came back, she saw a sight that she never thought she'd see in a million years. Sherlock was on the floor with the puppy, who was licking his face. Sherlock was laughing.

"Stop! Get off me!" He said. "Ok, ok, you're adorable!"

"I told you." Alex smirked. Sherlock sat up quickly. He then ignored the puppy, who was whining and pawing at them. "No, don't stop! That was adorable!" 

"It attacked me!" Sherlock said.

"Uh huh, sure." Alex said. "I think you got down on the floor with him while I was gone because you don't want anyone to see what a huge softey you can be."

"Don't tell John." Sherlock smiled, stroking the dog again. 

"My lips are sealed." Alex said, pretending to zip her lips and throw away the key. Sherlock made the same motion, smiling at her. (Got this from Gravity Falls...) 

Sherlock and Alex left the shelter a little while after that. Sherlock had protested that he wanted to buy the dog, but Alex had drawn the line there. They weren't around often enough to take care of a dog. Sherlock was pouting a little bit.

"Sherlock, stop being mad at me!" Alex whined. "If I take you out to lunch and pay for all your food, will you stop being mad at me?" 

"Maybe." Sherlock said. 

"Fine." Alex said.

They went to a resturant that wasn't very packed. Alex and Sherlock ordered, Sherlock making sure to get one of the most expensive things on the menu. Alex glared at him when the waiter had left.

"Why, Sherlock, why?" She asked.

"Because, A. I'm hungry. B. I'm still mad at you." Sherlock said.

"Whatever. I have to keep my promise." Alex sighed, shaking her head.

They finally finished eating and after Alex payed (a very expensive fee) they left. They walked down the streets for a little while together. John would probably be a little worried about them by now. Alex turned to Sherlock.

"So, what do you think?" She asked.

"About what?" Sherlock asked.

"About what we did together. Did you like it?" Alex asked.

"Alex, I think this was the best day of my life." Sherlock said.

"Are you being serious?" Alex asked.

"Yes." Sherlock nodded. "Except for the part where you didn't get me the puppy."

"Ok, that's it!" Alex said, headlocking Sherlock and ruffling his hair with her knuckle. Sherlock laughed.

"Alright, we should get back. We have to leave soon and John is probably worried sick." Sherlock said.

"Ok." Alex nodded.

They caught a cab and went back to the flat. John was waiting for them with three suitcases packed. All three of them went out to the cab that Sherlock had had wait. As the two men put the suitcases in the trunk, Alex watched as Mrs. Hudson yelled at the owner of the cafe next to the flat. Her eyes widened as Mrs. Hudson threw her bag at the door.

"Woah, looks like Mrs. Hudson finally got to that wife you were talking about, Sher." Alex said.

"Sher?" Sherlock repeated.

"It's my new nickname for you! Like it?" Alex asked.

"Whatever you say." Sherlock sighed, shaking his head. "But just wait till she finds out about the one in Islamabed." 

They all got into the cab. It was the early evening and this trip might take the whole night. Alex rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Paddington Station, please." Sherlock said. He pulled out his phone and pulled up the camera. "John, get in the picture. We're taking a selfie."

"Isn't that what 14 year old girls do in America?" Alex asked.

"Yes, but I want to." Sherlock said. "Smile!"

Alex and John shook their heads at each other, but took the picture regardless. Sherlock was becoming much more fun than John ever thought he could be. And all because of his sister.