You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Hounds of Baskerville: Chapter 3

"Um, Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?" John asked in attempts to break the awkwardness Sherlock had caused while intensely watching Henry take his first drag of his cigarette. You watched Sherlock closely, knowing he was planning something.

"I know. That... my..." Henry looked at Sherlock, his sentence running off as Sherlock jumped up, getting in Henry's face. Well, not so much his face, but the trail of smoke leaving his cigarette. He took a big whiff of the air, moving his head in a circle as he did so. You looked at Sherlock wide eyed, almost laughing. Just when you thought he was done, he leaned in again for another whiff. Both John and Henry stared at him, not speaking.

"That must be a... quite a trauma." John continued awkwardly, his eyes leaving Sherlock. "Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this..." Sherlock watched as Henry took another drag of the cigarette and exhaled it, leaving trails of smoke. Sherlock became antsy once again and lurched forward. You just placed a hand over your face, trying not to laugh. It wasn't like he was really getting anything just from the bit of smoke.

He took another long whiff before sitting down again. Henry just blinked blankly at him, clearly contemplating if he should leave due to Sherlock being a psychopath. John shook his head, continuing his previous statement about Henry's trauma. "... to account for it?"

"That's what Doctor Mortimer says." Henry nodded, looking away from Sherlock back to John.

"Who?" Asked John.

"His therapist." You and Sherlock answered together while at the same time Henry said,

"My therapist."

"Obviously." Sherlock shrugged. You walked over to his chair, leaning on the arm of it, as you looked down at Sherlock. He took a glance at you and you tried to hide your smile to give him a glare. You didn't want to lose a client due to him getting in their face in an attempt to get some sort of nicotine in his system from the smoke.

At your look Sherlock gave you a sort of nasty face. You couldn't help it and a laugh escaped your throat. You immediately clamped a hand over your mouth as both John and Henry shot you looks. "Sorry, do go on." You spoke, tightening your eyes closed to try not to laugh again.

"Louise Mortimer. She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons." Henry admitted, taking another inhale of his cigarette. This time when Sherlock tried to stand, you put an arm across his chest, shoving him back down. He glared up at you with dark eyes. You weren't about to lose Henry as a client because of Sherlock. Sherlock slapped your hand away and you stuck your tongue out at him. 'Stop being so childish' he mouthed. You gave him a look that said, 'Who? Me?'

"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry?" You asked Henry after a deep breath, showing him you were listening to him. He shook his head, not wanting to remember it.

"You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?" Sherlock contributed, watching Henry closely.

"It's a strange place, the Hollow. Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid." Henry answered, his face twisting in one of pure horror as he remembered events he wanted to forget but never could.

"Yes, if I wanted poetry I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends. Much funnier." You couldn't help but let out a giggle at John's angry face as he sighed, trying not to get unbelievably angry. You quickly tried to regain your composure once more, telling your brain to shut off for a bit.

"What did you see?" Sherlock again asked, forcing it out of Henry.

"Footprints – on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart." Sherlock sighed, leaning farther back into his seat. You gave Henry the benefit of the doubt. His story pointed towards the attack just being some sort of wild animal, but maybe there was more to it.