(Alice’s POV: )

Sherlock, John and I raced across the terrain in the Land Rover towards Dewar’s Hollow. After a very short, fast drive, Sherlock pulled up where the woods begin and we got out and continued on foot.  We ran as fast as we could in the woods, and we got there just in time to see Henry bringing a pistol up and opening his mouth as he aims the muzzle towards it.

“No, Henry, no! No!” Sherlock shouted, all three of us scrambling down the slope, shining our torches at him as fast as we could. Henry stood up and stumbled backwards, waving the pistol vaguely in their direction. His voice was high-pitched and hysterical.

“Get back. Get – get away from me!” He cried.

“Easy, Henry. Easy. Just relax.” John said calmly.

“I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!” Henry shouted.

“Just put the gun down. It’s okay.” I said, trying to not aim my own gun at him.

“No, no, I know what I am!” He argued, his voice hoarse with anguish as he looked to me.

“Yes, I’m sure you do, Henry. It’s all been explained to you, hasn’t it – explained very carefully.” Sherlock said, probably sounding as reassuring as I’d ever hear him.

“What?” Henry asked.

“Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you’d both clung on to, because you had started to remember.” I said, trying to sound my best like Sherlock had. Sherlock began to step closer to the young man.

“Remember now, Henry. You’ve got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy.” Sherlock said calmly. Henry’s gun hand began to droop momentarily as his eyes flickered to me, but then he raised it again, his face full of his struggle to understand.

“I thought it had got my dad – the hound. I thought...” He said, his voice shaky. He lost control and began to scream in anguish. “Oh je... oh je*** I don’t – I don’t know any more!” He screamed. Sobbing, he bent forward and aimed the muzzle into his mouth again.

“No, Henry!” I shouted.

“Henry, for g*d’s sake!” John cried, lunging towards the poor man.

“Henry, remember. ‘Liberty In.’ Two words; two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago.” Sherlock encouraged. Henry began to calm a little but still remained hunched over with the gun’s muzzle against his mouth. “You’d started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn’t an animal, was it, Henry?” Henry started to straighten up, blinking.

“Not a monster.” I said, stepping closer. Henry turned to look at me. “A man.” Henry’s eyes widened as the memories began to come. After several moments Henry gaped at me as the truth reasserted itself in his mind.

“You couldn’t cope. You were just a child, so you rationalized it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no-one would believe a word that you said.” Sherlock said, briefly looking at me and nodding. I nodded back and quietly John stepped forward, holding out his hand encouragingly towards Henry, me shadowing his actions. Lestrade arrived and called out as he trotted down the slope towards them.

“Sherlock!” He shouted.

“Okay, it’s okay, mate.” John said comfortingly, getting the pistol out of his hand. I handed John my pistol and wrapped my arm around his shoulder in an attempt at a comforting side-hug. Henry spoke tearfully to Sherlock. 

“But we saw it: the hound, last night. We s... we, we, we did, we saw...” He stammered, looking tiredly at Sherlock. I rubbed his back and supported his weight, him not wanting to stand apparently.

“Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that’s how it works.” Sherlock explained. Henry stared at him in confusion. Sherlock returned his look sympathetically.

“But there never was any monster.” I said calmly, looking at him with what I hoped was a sincere look. The hound had different ideas, however, and now we heard its anguished howl ring out in the woods above us. Everyone’s head snapped up, and my hand went to my stomach as a sharp jolt was sent through my abdomen. Henry looked at me worriedly before worrying about the hound, which I thought beyond unreasonable. John and Greg aimed their flashlights upwards to the top of the Hollow where a low shape could be seen slowly stalking along the rim and snarling. I began whimpering, even though I knew it was a regular dog. My stomach was worse off than my mental state.

“Sherlock…” John began. Sherlock stared up in disbelief as Henry turned to him, horrified. I assumed my face wasn’t much calmer than his.

“No.” He began to wail in panic. “No, no, no, no!” He broke away from me, backing up as Sherlock tried simultaneously to hold out a calming hand towards him while keeping his own torch shining up towards the creature above us.

“Henry, Henry...” Sherlock attemped to calm him, and I would have to, if I wasn’t kneeling on the ground, doubled over and staring at the hound in horror.

“Sherlock...” John tried again. The creature continued to slink along the rim of the Hollow as Henry began to scream in abject terror. He crumpled to his knees, continually screaming, “No!”

“Henry!” John cried. The hound turned towards the Hollow and looked down at everyone, snarling viciously. Its eyes glowed in the torchlight as Henry continued to wail, and I felt like I would faint, even though adrenaline was keeping me painfully conscious.

“****!” Lestrade cursed, staring up at the rim. John turned and shone his torch into the DI’s face.

“Greg, are you seeing this?” John asked. Lestrade glanced at him momentarily and his expression answered the question. Sherlock took a quick look around to the inspector to see his face before turning back to stare up at the hound.

“Sherlock… I see it too.” I said, my voice trembling. He looked at me in the same way that he had Lestrade, but did a double take when he saw my position.

“Right: he is not drugged, Sherlock, so what’s that? What is it?!” John asked. As Henry continued to wail behind us, Sherlock screwed his eyes shut for a brief moment, trying to handle the overload in his mind. He stared upwards again.

“All right! It’s still here...” He panted heavily for a moment before pulling himself together. “...but it’s just a dog. Henry! Alice… It’s nothing more than an ordinary dog!” Sherlock reassured, not sounding sure himself. The hound didn’t think so as it raised its head and let out a long terrifying howl.

“Oh my ***.” Lestrade said, sounding terrified.

“I know it’s not real! I know it’s not real!” I shouted, not looking away from the beast of a dog. And now said beast turned and leaped a short way down the slope, its eyes flashing red in the torchlight.

“Oh, ******!” Lestrade shouted. John stared at it as it stopped again, its red glowing eyes now clearly visible as it opened its mouth and revealed a mouthful of long pointed teeth that you would never see on any dog. I whimpered. Its snarl was completely terrifying. Henry had fell silent, gazing up at it as if he knew that it was going to kill him shortly. Sherlock was still trying to believe what his own eyes were telling him... and now there was movement behind us. Sherlock looked over his shoulder and saw a tall human figure through the mist. The new arrival was wearing a breathing mask with a clear visor over his face. Sherlock turned and rushed towards him, grabbing at the mask and ripping it upwards to fully reveal the man’s face, and I don’t know who he saw, but he was horrified.

“No!” He said quietly, horrified. Behind him the hound growled ominously again. It was getting close to me, but I couldn’t move. Sherlock grimaced, groaning at whatever he was seeing. “It’s not you! You’re not here!” He insisted frantically. Grabbing at the figure, he spun him around and then head-butted him in the face. The figure crumpled slightly and raised his hand to his face as he straightened up ...and the man in front of Sherlock was Bob Frankland. Sherlock clung onto his jacket, his breathing panicked and frantic... but then he turned his head to one side and looked at the mist surrounding them as suddenly it all began to make sense to him.

“Sherlock…?” I called, eyeing the hound that seemed rather close to me.

“The fog.” Sherlock answered, not replying to me.

“What?” John asked, still shining his torch at the hound.

“It’s the fog! The drug: it’s in the fog! Aerosol dispersal – that’s what it said in those records. Project HOUND – it’s the fog! A chemical minefield!” Sherlock explained, shouting loud enough for everyone to hear. Greg instantly threw his arm across his face, trying to stop himself from breathing too much of the mist. The hound stalked closer to us, snarling.

“Sherlock!” I shouted, only shouting because I was experiencing a particularly bad wave of pain. He glanced at me, giving me a look that I couldn’t quite place the quality of.

“For God’s sake, kill it! Kill it!” Frankland shouted. The hound’s movements became jitterier as if it was winding itself up to attack. Greg aimed his pistol and fired three times at it. His bullets flew past it and it flinched momentarily, but then rose up and leapt towards them. It seemed like it was going straight towards me, and I couldn’t even scream. John’s aim was truer than Lestrade’s, and his bullets striked the hound accurately and threw it backwards as it squealed in pain and crashed to the ground, unmoving. I stared at it, not reacting in any way. My mind was blank except for the burning pain invading my stomach.

As John and Greg watched it anxiously for any signs of movement, Sherlock ran over to Henry and pushed him towards the hound.

“Look at it, Henry.” Sherlock commanded.

“No, no, no!” Henry resisted, digging his heels in.

“Come on, look at it!” Sherlock insisted, shoving him forward determinedly. He bullied the young man forward until they could both clearly see it lying on the ground. In Sherlock’s torchlight it was clearly nothing more than a huge dog. Henry stared at it for a moment and then turned back to where Frankland was still holding his injured face, while Greg had his hands over his mouth as he tried to draw breath and come to terms with what he just experienced. John was looking at me worriedly, and I was avoiding his gaze. Henry looked at Frankland.

“It’s just... you b******.” Hurling himself at the older man, he screamed with rage. “You b******!” He repeated. Bundling him to the ground, he screamed into his face as John and Greg ran over and tried to pull him off. Sherlock looked at me again, silently asking if I was okay. I slightly nodded a yes, and he nodded back solemnly.

“Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn’t you just kill me?!” Henry demanded. Finally the others managed to pull him up off.

“Because dead men get listened to. He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet – a chemical minefield, pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here.” Sherlock explained. He held his arms out wide and spun slowly in a circle as he gestured around the Hollow. “Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once.” He laughed with delight. “Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you. It’s been brilliant.” He said sincerely.

“Sherlock...” John warned. I slowly began to get up, being careful to not move my abdomen much.

“What?” Sherlock asked innocently, turning to the doctor. John glared at him pointedly.

“Timing.” He said condescendingly.

“Not good?” Sherlock asked again.

“No, no, it’s – it’s okay. It’s fine, because this means...” Henry began. He started to step towards Frankland. John moved with him, ready to intervene if he should try to attack him again. “...this means that my dad was right.” Frankland got up onto his knees as Henry still tried to move towards him. John and Lestrade both put a gentle hand onto his shoulders to keep him back. “He found something out, didn’t he, and that’s why you’d killed him – because he was right, and he’d found you right in the middle of an experiment.” Henry continued tearfully. Frankland got to his feet but before he could say anything there was a savage snarl from behind the group. Everybody spun towards the dog as it whined in pain but got up off the ground. My chest tightened and I held in a whimper, but John aimed and fired towards it twice and it went down again. Frankland took the opportunity of the distraction to turn and run off in the opposite direction. Like the single-minded idiot that he was, Sherlock ran right across John’s line of fire, forcing him to lower his pistol, and chased off after the scientist. John turned and followed him up the slope. Seeing that I would be alone for a bit, I moved against a log, facing the hou- dog, my pistol aiming steadily on it. My stomach was beginning to calm, but it still felt like hot iron was stabbing me.

A few moments later, I heard an explosion.

Later again, the men had come back solemnly. I got up, my pain having died significantly. John sent me a worried look along with Sherlock and Lestrade. I avoided their gaze as Henry suddenly came up and embraced me. He buried his head in the crook of my neck as I awkwardly hugged him back. Sherlock looked unsure, and John looked outright murderous. Lestrade looked confused. Henry, keeping his hands on my shoulders, moved back and looked at me dead in the eyes.

“Alice. Will you marry me?” He asked, completely serious. At that point, Greg was holding John back and covering his mouth.

“What?” I asked, trying to not be insensitive.

“You heard me.” I looked back at him, trying to convey my confusion. “You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re strong, you’re brave, and you’re kind. You helped me in this horrible time of my life and you were so kind to me. I want you to stay with me.” He admitted. I was blown away. John looked like he was about to explode.

“Henry, you just had a traumatic experience…  Your mind is scrambled. Now isn’t the best time to ask. You’re acting on impulse, you’re-” Sherlock began, being the last person I expected to object.

“Sherlock, let the girl decide!” Lestrade interrupted. Henry looked appreciative.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t have a ring… I could get one.” He stammered nervously. I looked at him and sighed.

“Sherlock’s right, Henry. I’m sorry. You are sweet, but I barely know you and you did just go through…” I gestured around the Hollow with my hands. “…all this. I’m sorry. Not now.” I looked at him regretfully. He sighed.

“Yeah… I knew it was a long shot. But- But when this… all this is over and gone. Will you consider? Please.” He replied, letting go of me and looking at the ground. I smiled and nodded.

“Sure, Henry.” He smiled and hugged me again, then slowly began walking out of the Hollow. Lestrade let John go and whistled in surprise.

“Wow.” He said tiredly. I nodded. Sherlock returned to his impartial self and followed Henry. John and I followed.

(In Land Rover, John’s POV: )

Alice had elected to sit in the back on the way back to the Inn, and I sat back there with her, not wanting her to lay on something hard. She lay down with her head on my lap, and only a few minutes into the ride, she fell asleep. As soon as she did, I looked up at Sherlock’s reflection in the rear-view mirror.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked softly. He ignored me for a moment. “Sherlock.” He sighed.

“Nothing. She’s fine.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see her back there when the hou- dog attacked.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Menstrual cycle.” He lied after some hesitation.

“We both know that’s the last week of the month… it’s the second.” I argued. He bit his lip.

“She wouldn’t want me to tell you.”

“Sherlock. She was doubled over and holding her stomach. That’s not normal!”

“She’s afraid you won’t let her work on the cases.”

“I will.”

“You won’t.” I sighed and her mobile vibrated. After a moment of consideration, I pulled it out of her pocket and looked at it.

“Told you. And I thought he was rather nice! Too bad.” It read. It was from an anonymous number, and she had a few others.

“Who’s it from?” Sherlock asked.

“Unknown number. How long she’s been getting these?” I answered.

“A while.” Some silence ensued.

“Will she tell me if I tell her I know something’s wrong?”

“No.”

“Is she going to get help?”

“Yes.” I was satisfied with that for now, and I looked out the window as we drove, absentmindedly playing with her hair.

So? Was the Henry thing too much? Or did it make sense? It was kind of a shot in the dark, so I would appreciate some opinions =) Thank you! Enjoy, vote, and comment fun peoples! =)