Sentiment || Sherlock Holmes

The Hounds of Baskerville Part 2

On his second day in Dartmoor, Sherlock Holmes rose with the sun. He'd spent the night hours in a fretful sleep. Upon waking, he felt right again instead of the paranoid and terrified version of himself he'd been after visiting the hollow.

Sherlock dressed quickly and left before John began to stir in the other bed. He walked across the moor, thinking about the case.

The only explanation he could come up with for his abnormal behavior was drugs.

He and Henry suffered the symptoms, but Evelyn nd John had walked away unscathed. All four of them had only shared one meal together: tea and coffee at Henry's house. Eve and John both took milk, but no sugar while Sherlock and Henry had both.

Sherlock reached the large rock outcropping he'd climbed the day before. He clambered up once more, enjoying the wind on his face.

Sherlock resolved to return to Henry Knight's house this morning and steal some sugar to test. He'd have to return to Baskerville as well-

As Sherlock turned to climb back down, he caught sight of someone else taking a early morning walk along the moor. Someone with a red coat.

You're useless!

His words from the night before echoed in Sherlock's mind, pushing him faster across the dewey grass. Evelyn saw him coming, and he felt a sick feeling in his stomach as he watched her turn around.

He drove her away, and he hated it.

"Evelyn, wait." He called.

She ignored him.

Sherlock started running, closing the distance between them in less than a minute. He matched her pace, walking next to her.

"Evelyn-" He tried again.

"Leave me alone, Sherlock. I'm busy being useless." She said.

Sherlock jogged ahead before turning around and stepping into her path. Eve, propelled by hurt, crashed right into his chest.

"What the hell, Sherlock?" She said, stepping back and crossing her arms.

She wouldn't look directly at him, but he could see the puffiness around her eyes. His sick feeling got worse.

"You've been crying." He said, sounding almost emotional.

"What do you want?" She asked, finally meeting his gaze.

He took a step forward. "I experienced something I'd never felt before last night. It was more than fear. I felt doubt. I shouldn't have said those things to you, Evelyn. Something was messing with my mind."

"You shouldn't have said it, you're right." She agreed, but her tone was still angry.

"I-" He began.

She stormed past him, but he grabbed her hand. Eve looked at him, angry and defiant.

Evelyn stopped breathing for a moment when she saw his face. His eyes bore into her own. She saw genuine regret and emotion she wasn't sure had ever been in his expression before.

"I'm sorry, Evelyn."

They stared at each other.

"I'm sorry, too." She whispered, beginning to cry again. "I'm sorry I'm not what you need me to be."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "That's completely ridiculous! Evelyn― You're not― I was just―" he sighed, mentally cursing the English language.

He took her other hand. "You are not useless to me, Evelyn. I said that because I was paranoid and I-"