Sherlock soon tracked John and the girls down before they had even got on the lift, telling them that he needed to get onto one of the computers and search something called 'Project Hound'. Bree got them access to some of the records and began to lead them back through the base, making their way down several corridors before coming to a stop at a door that took them back into the laboratory outside Major Barrymore's office. She grabbed her access pass and swiped it across the machine beside the door, carefully pulling the door open, warily looking around as they moved into the room for any sign of security.

"John," Sherlock pointed back to the door, moving further into the room.

"Yeah, I'm on it," John said, remaining behind at the door, looking out through the small window to keep watch, while Bree moved across the room to take a seat behind a computer.

"Project H.O.U.N.D," Sherlock muttered as Clara looked at him curiously, "Must have read about it and stored it away. An experiment in a CIA facility in Liberty, Indiana."

"I knew it." Tyler muttered, mildly surprised, recalling how she had mentioned that very same town in America the day before at Henry's house.

Sherlock nodded to her, and walked over to stand behind Bree as she finished putting the over ride code Mycroft had given her a while back into the computer and putting in her I.D. number. A request to 'enter search string' flashed across the screen and she paused, looking back up to Sherlock, "H, O, U, N, D," he spelled out for her.

Bree quickly typed it in and clicked 'enter'. A moment passed as they waited, when the computer beeped and the words 'no access. CIA classified' popped up on the screen with a request for an authorization code. She sighed, glancing at Sherlock, "That's as far as my access goes, I'm afraid," she told them.

"Well, there must be an override and password," Clara suggested, shrugging as she looked back over to them from the door.

"I imagine so," she agreed, "But that'd be Major Barrymore's."

Sherlock instantly strolled back across the room and into Barrymore's darkened office, Tyler and Bree following behind him, "Password," he murmured to himself as he walked, "Password, password," he switched the lights on and took a seat at the desk, "He sat here when he thought it up," he spun the chair around slowly, looking thoughtful for a long moment as his eyes flickered around the office, taking everything in, "Describe him to me," he practically ordered Bree, recalling how she had said she knew him personally. 

"You've met him."

"But describe him."

"Uh, he's a bloody martinet, a throw-back," Bree replied, shrugging as Sherlock closed his eyes, visualising the man in his head, "The sort of man they'd have sent into Suez."

"Good, excellent," Sherlock nodded, his eyes snapping open, "Old-fashioned, traditionalist, not the sort of man that would use his children's names as a password," he gestured back behind him to where a couple of kid's drawings in crayon had been pinned to the board above the desk.

"Well, he's obviously very proud of his job," Tyler remarked, trying to help as she leaned through the open doorway of the office, casting her eyes around the rather small space. There really wasn't that much to look at, mostly just paperwork, but she did take note of the number of books on the shelves, "His job is something that he values largely, and this is to do with work. He wouldn't just pick something out of the blue, he would pick something in here that pertains to his work, yet is still personal to him."

Sherlock hummed in agreement, nodding slowly as his eyes roamed around the space, "So what's at eye level?" he muttered, "Books," he pointed across to the bookshelves and over to a book sitting on the desk, "Jane's Defense Weekly, bound copies," he turned to properly look at the shelves, running his eyes down each book sitting neatly on the shelves, "Hannibal, Wellington, Rommel, Churchill's 'History of the English-Speaking Peoples,' all four volumes."

"He's a fan of Churchill," Tyler said, pointing across to where there was, in fact, a bronze bust sitting high on a shelf, looking down over the desk.

Sherlock stood and moved closer to the bookcase, scanning it swiftly as John and Clara moved to stand behind Tyler and Bree in the doorway, "Copy of 'The Downing Street Years,' one, two, three, four, five separate biographies of Thatcher," he said, quickly pointing each rather well-read looking books out, before noticing a picture frame sitting on the desk. He leaned closer to it to see an older man in a military uniform standing beside his teenage son, the photograph looking slightly yellowed with the old film, "Mid 1980's, at a guess," he determined, eyeing the picture, "Father and son, Barrymore senior. Medals: Distinguished Service Order..." he glanced back behind him to John, knowing that he would know for certain.

"That date?" John began, considering it quickly, "I'd say Falklands veteran."

"Right," he nodded, "So, Thatcher's looking a more likely bet than Churchill," he turned and began to head out of the office.

"So that's the password?" Clara asked, following after him.

"No. With a man like Major Barrymore, only first name teams would do," he made his way back over to the computer, not bothering to take a seat as he leaned over the keyboard and began typing 'Margaret' into the authority code box.

"Hang on," Bree put a hand on his hand, just as he was about to type the last letter, frowning slightly thoughtfully at the screen. Sherlock paused and look at her, raising his eyebrows expectantly, surprisingly seeming interested in what she had to say, "We are talking about a rather arrogant man," she pointed out as she dropped her hand from his, "try 'Maggie' it's more personal."

Sherlock turned back to the computer, deleting what he had written and typing in 'Maggie' instead, hitting the enter button. There was a tense moment before the computer beeped happily and a message flashed across the screen, reading, 'Override 300/421 Accepted' and a small loading sign.

"Well done, Brennan," he said, glancing across to her as they waited. Bree sighed in relief, unable to help the smile from crossing her face. "For someone so smart it's a wonder you hang around with Mycroft," Sherlock muttered as an after thought.

Bree scoffed, her lips twisting up into a small smirk, "you can't just compliment someone can you."

The light mood was short lived, though as the computer finished loading the files and suddenly, an onslaught of information began streaming across the screen, including brain scans and lists of chemicals, so fast that it was almost hard to concentrate on it with certain phrases jumping out, such as 'extreme suggestibility,' 'fear and stimulus,' 'conditioned terror,' and 'aerosol dispersal'. Sherlock clicked on a picture and brought it up to get a closer look at a group of men and women gathered together, most smiling at the camera, each person wearing a jumper with a savage, growling dog splashed across it with 'H.O.U.N.D' written below the dog. Tyler's eyes widened as she looked at the last names of the five main scientist in the photo, realizing that if your lined them up, they spelt out 'Hound'.

"Hound," Bree said softly, staring in horror as more information came up.

"Bloody hell..." Tyler breathed, her eyes widening in shock and horror as more words began to leap out at her, such as 'Paranoia,' 'Severe frontal lobe damage,' 'Blood-brain,' and it just seemed to grow worse and worse, even including several murders that had been traced back to those subjects that they had first experimented on. 

John's eyes were fixed on the screen, unable to look away, "Jesus," he murmured.

"Project HOUND," Sherlock began, still scanning the information, "A new deliriant drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible. They wanted to use it as an anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus, but they shut it down and hid it away in 1986."

"Because of what it did to the subjects they tested it on," Bree nodded, reading over his shoulder.

"And the terrible things that they did to other people," Tyler agreed as she leaned closer to try reading the information, "It seems that prolonged exposure ended up driving the subjects insane, along with uncontrollably aggressive."

Clara frowned deeply, glancing over to Sherlock and Tyler, "So someone's been doing it again, carrying on the experiment?" She said, looking alarmed at the idea.

"Attempting to refine it, perhaps," Sherlock commented, still running his eyes down the information, "For the last twenty years."

"Who?" Bree asked, shaking her head.

John nodded at the screen to the list of the scientist names, "you recognize any of those names?" he looked back over to Bree.

"No," she shook her head again, "Not a thing."

Sherlock sighed, his eyes still on the screen, "Five principal scientists, twenty years ago..." he brought the picture back up, zooming in on each scientists face, "Maybe a friend's somewhere in the back of the picture, someone who was old enough to be there at the time of the experiments in 1986..." he stopped, catching sight of a familiar face hidden in the back of the picture, and rolled his eyes at himself for not having realized sooner.

"Oh!" Tyler gasped, catching sight of a shaggy haired, youthful face that, while much older after twenty years, still was recognizable enough to leave her with no doubt of just who he was, "I knew he was creepy." She turned and hit Clara's arm lightly, giving her a wide eyed look. 

"Who?" Clara frowned.

"Maybe somebody who says 'cell phone' because of time spent in America," Sherlock nodded, turning towards Clara and John, "You remember."

"Mmm," John hummed, recalling Doctor Frankland, who had been so helpful when they had first meet. Perhaps even a little too helpful.

"And he was so helpful in giving us his number, just in case we needed him," Tyler remarked, shaking her head.

"Oh my God," Clara breathed, her eyes widening as she looked back to the picture on the screen, "Dr. Frankland..." she frowned at the screen, glancing at Bree beside her, "Do you know Doctor Bob Frankland?"

"Uh, we met once or twice," Bree shrugged, her arms crossed. "He's a virologist. This is chemical warfare," She gestured to the screen, frowning at the accusation. 

"It's where he started, though..." Tyler told her, turning back to the screen, "And he's never lost the certainty, the obsession that that drug really could work.

Sherlock's voice grew lighter as he shrugged, "Nice of him to give us his number," he began rummaging around in his coat pockets, searching for the card, before locating it and pulling it out, along with his phone, "Let's arrange a little meeting."

As he moved away to call Frankland, John's phone began ringing, and he quickly grabbed it out of his pocket, pausing as he frowned at the caller ID, before lifting it up to his ear, "Hello?" he answered. Tyler paused, exchanging a quick look with Clara as they both, very faintly, heard the sound of a women sobbing on the other end of the call, "Who's this?" he asked, pausing as he listened for a moment, before turning to face Sherlock and the girls, "It's Louise Mortimer," he told them, "Louise, what's wrong?" he said over the phone, pausing for a moment, looking very alarmed now, "What? Where- where are you?" he nodded, "Right, stay there. We'll get someone to you, okay?"

John lowered the phone and began typing something in to it, Clara eyed him worriedly, "what happened?" she said.

"Henry attacked her."

"Gone?" Tyler asked.

"Hmm."

Sherlock nodded, "There's only one place he'll go to: back to where it all started," he whirled around on Bree so fast that her eyes went wide, "Do you have a gun?"

She frowned at the weird question, shaking her head, "it's at my hotel room."

"Go get it, meet us at the Hollow." He called back to the blonde, not waiting for a response. 

They immediately left Baskerville, breaking the speed limit as Sherlock drove the Land Rover right over the darkened moor, until they were forced to come to a stop at the tree line. The four of them - minus Bree who had gone back to her hotel room to do what Sherlock had told her - leaped out of the car, their breathe rising into the air as it hit the chilly air, pulling their small torches out of their pockets as they ran into the tree line, desperately hoping that they wouldn't be too late. It only took them a few minutes to reach the Hollow, Clara being the first to catch sight of Henry already down at the bottom of the Hollow with his gun in his mouth, ready to fire.

"No!" she cried, almost stumbling on the wet, leafy ground in her panic at seeing Henry about to kill himself. She, Tyler, and the boys quickly scrambled down the uneven, sloping hill down to the bottom of the Hollow, their torch light aimed at Henry's face, "Henry, don't!" she tried, desperately, "Please!"

Henry stood from where he had been kneeling, pulling the gun from out of his mouth to wave it around in their direction, looking very, very distressed, "Get back!" he demanded, his voice high-pitched and hysterical, backing away from them, "Get...get away from me!"

"Easy, Henry," John said calmly as the four of them came to a stop, putting a soothing hand up, "Easy. Just relax."

"I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!"

Clara nervously licked her lips, taking a step closer with her gloved hands up, "Please, Henry," she began, her voice gentle as her eyes flickered back and forth between the gun and Henry.

"Clara..." John hissed, moving to grab her arm.

She easily shook his hand off, keeping her eyes fixed on Henry's, "Just put the gun down, Henry," she continued, pretending as if John hadn't spoken. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt ill and even a little light headed, feeling the adrenaline coursing through her system, but she couldn't just let Henry kill himself when he was a completely innocent victim, "Please," she took another small step forward, "Everything is going to be okay..."

"No!" Henry's voice grew hoarse with anguish as he shouted, not lowering his weapon in the slightest, "No, I know what I am!"

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Henry," Tyler nodded, her voice reassuring as she held out a hand towards the man, "It's all been explained to you, hasn't it? Explained very carefully".

"What?" he asked, actually seeming to have calmed down slightly.

"Someone needed to keep you quiet," Sherlock cut in this time, in the same tone of voice, "Needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you'd both clung on to, because you had started to remember," he slowly started to walk closer to Henry, putting himself in front of Clara, "Remember now, Henry," he tried to encourage him, "You've got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy."

Henry began to lower the gun, struggling to understand, before he raised the weapon back up once more, "I thought it had got my Dad, the hound. I thought..." he frowned, when he lost control again, his voice growing close to screaming, "Oh, Je- Oh, Jesus, I don't- I don't know any more!" he practically screamed out, sobbing as he bent over and aimed the muzzle of the gun into his mouth again.

"No, Henry!" Clara cried, almost frantic, jumping forward in front of Sherlock, trying to get his attention back to them again as she swallowed thickly, "Please, just..." her mind raced, desperately trying to think as she looked back at the others for help. 

Tyler took a slight step forward, her eyes lighting up, "Remember 'Liberty In?'" she said hurriedly, "Those two words, those two words that a frightened little boy remembered seeing twenty years ago during the worst moment of his life. Remember?"

Henry hesitated, still hunched over with the gun pressed against his lips, but at least he seemed to be listening again.

"You started to piece things together," Sherlock added, talking fast, "Remember what really happened here that night. It wasn't an animal, was it, Henry?" he shook his head as Henry slowly began to straighten, blinking, "Not a monster," Henry finally looked back over to them, "A man."

Henry stared at them, gasping in realization at the truth. After twenty years of searching, he finally knew what had really happened to his Dad.

"You couldn't cope," he continued, his voice growing softer as he watched Henry as the truth finally dawned on him, "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."

Clara moved forward, holding out as hand towards Henry as she tried to give him a gentle smile, "It's alright," she told him, slowly taking the gun out of his now limp hands, and automatically flipping the safety on it. She put a hand on his shoulder, meeting his eyes, "You are going to be okay, Henry."

"Sherlock!" Bree's voice rang out from behind them as she walked down the slope towards them, "Tyler!"

John came to stand beside Clara, who carefully handed him the gun, grateful when the heavy weight was no longer in her hands. She had used guns before, Tyler had even taught her how to use a rifle and took her down to the gun range ever now and then. She had actually become quite a good shot, but she really wasn't much of a gun fan in general, she supposed that she had just seen too many people murdered by them to even like them for sport now days.

"Okay, it's okay, mate," John said gently to Henry, giving him a soothing look as he quickly checked the gun to make sure that the safety was on, lowering it to his side.

Henry looked tearfully back across to Sherlock, "But we saw it, the hound, last night," he reminded him, confused, "We s- we- we- we did, we saw..." he stuttered out, still seeming to be trying to make sense of everything.

"Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry," Sherlock nodded, his voice growing gentler again. In fact, it was starting to startle Tyler, just how unlike himself he was sounding, not that he didn't have a softer side to him, just that it so rarely ever came out. It was nice, "Leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog," he explained to him as Henry shook his head, not seeming to be convinced, "We both saw it, saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus, that's how it works," Henry stared at him, still very confused as he nodded again, his expression sympathetic, "But there never was any monster."

A loud growl rang out in the woods surrounding them, making every one's head snap up. Tyler took a big step back in shock, almost hitting Sherlock's chest before he automatically reached out to put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, while John and Bree shone their torches up to the top of the Hollow where a dark shape was moving, just out of the light, almost as if it was stalking the rim as it growled again.

"Sherlock..." Clara called as they all stared up at the shape, Sherlock's eyes wide in disbelief, not having let go of Tyler's shoulder, for which she was quite grateful.

"No!" Henry began to wail, panicked stricken as he looked quickly back to Sherlock, starting to back away from them, "No, no, no, no!"

Clara struggled to keep her own fear at bay, her mind desperately trying to grasp as straws to explain what it was seeing as she turned back to Henry, holding out a hand towards him, "It's okay, Henry," she tried, her voice shaking slightly against her will. Henry continued to back away, his eyes wide with terror, "It's going to be fine..."

"Sherlock!" John called again, his voice growing sharper as he kept his torch light aimed on the shape still moving around the top of the Hollow.

"No!" Henry screamed, completely hysterical as he collapsed, clutching at his head as he continued to scream, "No, no, no, no...!"

"Henry!" Clara tried again, raising her voice as she moved closer to him, but she didn't dare try and touch him when he was so likely to lash out, even accidentally, and possibly try and attack her.

The hound snarled again and suddenly lunged towards the edge of the Hollow, its eyes shining from the torchlight, like a cat's.

"Bloody Hell!" Bree breathed, staring up at the creature.

John looked back to Bree, shining his torch onto her pale, shocked face, "Bree, are you seeing this?" he asked him, and Bree simply looked back to him, her expression saying all that it needed to. John looked back over to Sherlock, who was staring up at the creature, "Right, she is not drugged, Sherlock, so what's that?" he demanded, turning back to shin his torch back up at the creature, his voice growing louder when Sherlock didn't answer, "What is it?"

"It's not possible," Tyler gasped, shaking her head, still trying to understand what was going on as she looked up at the growling, snarling creature above them. The logical side of her knew it couldn't be true, that there couldn't be a real monster dog, and yet it was right there in front of her. How can you possibly argue with that?

"Alright!" Sherlock finally managed to pull himself together, still staring up at the creature, Henry's wailing ringing in their ears, along with the growling, "It's still here..." he paused, seeming to be panting slightly, trying to compose himself, "But it's just a dog, Henry!" he said firmly, looking back over to Henry, who stopped crying, "It's nothing more than an ordinary dog!"

The hound let out a loud howl, raising its head into the air.

Bree stumbled back, "Oh my God!" She exclaimed, just as the creature leaped a short way down the slope, its eyes flashing red in the torchlight, "Oh... Jesus."

Tyler closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head, trying to force her brain to corporate with what she knew to be logical, but when she opened her eyes again, the hound was still there, growling with its red eyes, opening its jaw to reveal long, very sharp teeth that certainly didn't belong to any dog she knew of. She stumbled backwards, only for her foot to snag on a rock and send her falling onto her back, leafs and twigs snagging in her hair and on the back of her coat, but right now appearances meant nothing to her, only that they were about to be killed by an impossible hound.

She winced, knowing that she was going to be bruised later, not that she supposed that would matter much if they ended up dying, and struggled to pull herself back onto her feet, only to stop. In the thick mist at the other end of the Hollow, a figure was moving towards them, seeming to be wearing an old fashioned breathing mask.

"Sherlock!" Clara called, snapping his attention away from the creature. "Tyler!" She pointed to the figure, not being able to form words. 

Tyler scrambled up, rushing towards the figure and grabbing the breathing mask, pulling it up. She stopped suddenly, staring at Jim Moriarty. But, that couldn't be right. No!" she shouted, sounding horrified, gasping slightly, "It's not you!You're not here!"

She screwed her eyes shut, stumbling back, confusion swirling in her mind. This wasn't him, it couldn't be him. She was hallucinating. Why? What got to her? What was causing this. She gasped, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the thick fog surrounding them, drifting in the air around the entire Hollow. That had to be it, Project Hound was a chemical that was released into the air and was used to induce fear, and if someone was still running the experiment, it wasn't so hard to imagine that it could be in the fog surrounding them right now.

"The fog!" she said loudly, trying to cover her mouth and nose with her scarf, hoping that that might offer at least a little bit of protection.

Sherlock didn't seem to hear her as he grabbed the figure, spinning him around, before head-butting him. Doctor Frankland crumpled slightly at the blow, trying to cover his mouth and nose as he straightened once more. 

Tyler hurried over to them, grabbing Sherlock's arm, hardly giving Frankland a second glance, "Sherlock, the fog!" she told him urgently, giving his arm a little shake as his wide eyes darted across to meet hers, finally seeming to be listening to her, "The drug, it's in the fog!"

"The fog..." he said slowly, comprehension dawning on his face, his head snapping back around to look at the fog behind them.

"What?" John asked, still keeping his torch fixed on the hound.

"Tyler's right, it's the fog! The drug, it's in the fog!" he looked back to Frankland, talking fast, "Aerosol dispersal, that's what it said in those records. Project H.O.U.N.D, it's the fog!" he released Frankland and spun around, "A chemical minefield!"

John, Clara, and Bree tried covering their noses and mouths, Tyler using her scarf again, all of them trying not to breathe as much or deeply. The hound stalked closer, moving down the slope towards them as it grunted aggressively at them all, snarling.

"For God's sake, kill it!" Frankland began shouting, staring fearfully at the creature, just as helpless to his own weapon without his breathing mask to protect him as everyone else, "Kill it!"

The creature looked ready to pounce at them as Bree aimed her gun at it and fired three times, only to miss. It snarled and ran forward, leaping at them as she fired a second round, this time managing to hit it, sending the creature flying in the air to land in a heap on the ground, lying motionless. They all stared at it tensely for any signs of movement, Clara's heart racing madly in her chest.

Sherlock, after a moment, hurried over to Henry, "Look at it, Henry," he urged him, grabbing his shoulder, pulling him over towards the hound.

"No!" Henry shook his head, trying to resist being pushed, "No, no!"

"Come on!" he insisted, not giving in as he continued to push him forward, "Look at it!" he forced Henry over to the hound's body, shining his torch on it to show that it was just a dog, a rather large one, but still just a domestic dog.

Henry stood there, staring down at the dog's body for a long moment, before slowly turning back around to look over to where Frankland was standing, holding his injured nose after Sherlock head buttered him, "It's just..." he began, he shook his head, drawing a deep breath, "You bastard!" he suddenly screamed in rage, hurling himself at the older man, "You bastard!" he slammed Frankland onto the ground, still screaming in his face as John ran over to them, trying to pull Henry off him, "Twenty years!" he shouted in the man's face, "Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn't you just kill me?"

He finally managed to pull Henry off him, Clara moving to try and help as she grabbed Henry's arm, "Because dead men get listened to," Tyler explained to him, holding out a hand towards him, trying to calm him, "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."

Sherlock shone his torch around the Hollow as he continued for her, "Pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here," he held his arms out as he slowly turned in a circle on the spot, gesturing around at the Hollow, "Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once. Oh, this case, Henry!" he began laughing in delight, smiling broadly as he lowered his arms, "Thank you. It's been brilliant."

"Sherlock..." John sighed as Clara shook her head at him.

"What?" he turned around to face them.

"Timing," he clarified, giving him a pointed look.

Sherlock looked honestly unsure, "Not good?"

"Very not good," Clara nodded.

"No," Henry spoke up, still looking quite dazed, but not nearly as homicidal as before. Clara and John had even let him go, "No, it's...it's okay. It's fine, because this means..." he took a step towards Frankland, who slowly climbed back on to his feet, eyeing him warily. Henry pointed at his chest, "...this means that my Dad was right," he took another step towards him, but John quickly stopped him from moving any closer, "He found something out, didn't he?" his voice grew tearful, glaring down at the man, "And that's why you'd killed him, because he was right, and he'd found you right in the middle of an experiment."

Suddenly, a savage growl sounded from behind them and they turned back to look at the dog, which was whining in pain as, by some miracle, it was getting back on to its feet, somehow still alive. John immediately began shooting at it twice, and once again the dog collapsed on the ground, but while everyone was distracted, Frankland took the chance to take off running in the opposite direction. Sherlock took off after him, Tyler and Clara right behind him with John, Bree, and Henry, running up the rather steep slope.

"Frankland!" Sherlock shouted after him as they made it up the slope, chasing him through the woods, "Frankland!"

"Come on!" Bree encouraged Henry from behind them, lagging behind slightly from Sherlock, the girls, and John, "Keep up!"

Tyler swore as she stumbled over a root, managing to catch herself on a tree, scrapping her nails on the rough surface. She pushed herself on after the others, jumping over a fallen tree branch as they continued their pursuit.

"It's no use, Frankland!" Sherlock called after the man.

They ran until they reached a barbed wire fence on the edge of the Baskerville minefield, forcing them to come to a skidding halt as they caught sight of Frankland standing on the other side of the fence, standing frozen. He raised his head and lifted his foot, and a large explosion went off, forcing them all to duck as dirt and fire went flying into the air, the ground beneath them vibrating from the force of the explosion.

After a moment, the blast died down as Henry stared at the place that Frankland had been standing, falling back against a nearby tree, while the others simply stood back, panting for breathe, gazing out over the minefield. It should have felt like a victory, but it was still too much of a shock to feel anything else.

"It's over, Henry," Clara breathed, slightly breathless after the running, closing her eyes tightly, "It's all over."

~*~

The next morning found John and the girls sitting on a table across the road from the pub, enjoying the morning sunshine. Billy walked out of the pub with two plates of the vegetarian equivalent of an English breakfast and made his way over to their table, putting the plates on the table before them.

"Mmm," John hummed, running his eyes over the meal, before glancing up at the man, "Thanks, Billy."

"Yes, thank you," Clara nodded, giving the man a smile as she reached for her knife and fork.

Billy gave them a smile, walking back towards the pub as Sherlock joined them, managing to hold four white mugs in his hands, sitting three of them down in front of John and the girls, while keeping his own cup, "So, they didn't have it put down, then, the dog," he remarked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Apparently," Tyler agreed, reaching for her cup of tea, taking a sip.

"Suppose they just couldn't bring themselves to do it," John commented, happily tucking in to his breakfast.

Sherlock nodded, swallowing his sip of coffee, "I see."

He smiled slightly, exchanging a quick look with the blonde beside hm, "No you don't," he shook his head.

"No, I don't," he replied, taking another sip, frowning slightly as he lowered his cup, "Sentiment?"

"Correct," Tyler pointed at him, smiling brightly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Oh," he muttered, moving around to seat on the bench across the table from them.

"Listen, what happened to me and John in the lab?" Clara asked after a moment of chewing his food, glancing over to Sherlock.

Tyler quickly avoided his eyes, putting a mouthful of tomato in her mouth to try and avoid having to talk about it herself. It was Sherlock's experiment, he could be the one to tell him.

Sherlock eyed Clara and John for a moment before looking away, grabbing a small basket of sauce packets sitting on the middle of the table, fiddling with the packets, "D'you want some sauce with that?" he offered, looking down at the packets, "Tyler?"

"I mean, John hadn't been to the Hollow, so how come he heard those things in there?" Clara continued, frowning as she considered it, "Fear and stimulus, you said."

Tyler's eyes flickered between the two of them and then to Sherlock as she took a sip of her tea, watching as Sherlock rummaged around in the packets of sauce, clearly trying to avoid answering, "he must have been dosed with it elsewhere," he shrugged, pretending to be very interested in the sauce, not meeting John nor Clara's eyes, "When you two went to the lab, maybe. You saw those pipes..." he finally looked up at him, "Pretty ancient, leaky as a sieve, and they were carrying the gas, so, um, ketchup, was it? Or brown...?" he questioned, picking up two of the packets.

"Smooth," Tyler murmured to herself, hiding her mouth behind her half empty cup. It would have been amusing seeing Sherlock trying so hard to avoid actually answering honestly, had she not been feeling so guilty for her own part.

John nodded, before pausing, "Hang on..." he frowned deeply, glancing at Sherlock, "You thought it was in the sugar," Sherlock looked back to him, trying hard to keep his expression casual as he went on, "You were convinced it was in the sugar."

Sherlock looked away again, "Better get going, actually," he remarked, pulling his sleeve back and checking his watch, "There's a train that leaves in half an hour, so if you want..."

Clara noticed Tyler's slightly guilty expression that she was trying hard to hide, and sighed as the truth hit her. Tyler only ever felt guilty about one thing - hurting Clara. "Oh God," she shook her head, looking away from them, "It was you, both of you," Tyler shifted uncomfortably, "You locked me and John in that bloody lab."

"I had to," Sherlock told him.

Clara turned on Tyler, "And you let him?" she demanded.

"I'm so sorry, Clara," Tyler said hurriedly, throwing Sherlock a dark look, "I didn't know until it was too late, otherwise I would have stopped it, I promise. I really am sorry. Please, don't hurt me." She flinched away, raising her hands for protection against Clara's dark look. 

"It was an experiment," Sherlock defended himself as John and Clara turned to him.

"An experiment?" John exclaimed loudly, growing slightly angry.

"Shh," he quickly tried to shush him, glancing around at the people seating at tables around them, enjoying their own breakfasts.

He glared at both of them, "I was terrified, Sherlock," he hissed pointedly, lowering his voice, "I was scared to death."

"I thought that the drug was in the sugar, so I put the sugar in your coffee's, then I arranged everything with Major Barrymore," he informed him as John sighed heavily, looking away in exasperation, "It was all totally scientific, laboratory conditions, well, literally. Well, I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on an average one," Clara stopped, her fork half risen to her mouth, and glared at him. He rolled his eyes, adding, "You know what I mean."

"Might try that without the eye roll next time, Sherlock," Clara advised him.

John took another mouthful of his food, chewing it quickly, and swallowed it, "But is wasn't in the sugar," he remarked pointedly.

"No, well, I wasn't to know you'd already been exposed to the gas," Sherlock shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee.

"So, you got it wrong."

"No..."

"Mmm," Clara hummed in mock thought, glancing over at John and then at Sherlock. "You were wrong. It wasn't in the sugar. You got it wrong."

"A bit," Sherlock admitted after a moment, not looking pleased to have to say it. He glanced between John and the girls, "It won't happen again."

John began cutting up his egg when he paused, something occurring to him, "Any long-term effects?" he asked, concerned.

"None at all," he assured him, shaking his head, "You'll be fine once you're excreted it. We all will."

John returned to his meal, "I think I might have taken care of that already," he commented slyly.

Clara coughed, almost chocking on her mouthful as Sherlock snorted slightly with laughter. She sighed, shaking her head as she managed to swallow her mouthful, grabbing her napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth, "Oh, I so have to get more girl friends," she sighed, suddenly feeling not very hungry anymore. Tyler laughed at that, resting her head on her shoulder. 

Sherlock's eyes drifted over to where Gary was pouring coffee for two costumers across the road, giving Sherlock an apologetic smile. Sherlock sat his cup down on the table and began to stand.

"Where're you going?" John asked, glancing at him.

"Won't be a minute," he said, looking back to them, "Gotta see a man about a dog." And with that, he gave them a smile as Tyler sighed again, and headed back across the road to Gary.

"I should make sure he doesn't do anything too Sherlock like." Tyler pushed up and headed after the curly haired detective. 

Clara sighed and turned right in her seat to see John watching Tyler walk away with a small half smile at her joke. Clara frowned at that, slumping in her seat, "I should really head back to the hotel, get to packing if we want to leave before sundown."

It was John's turn to frown now as the brunette stood up, "Seriously?" 

"Pardon?" Clara looked at him incredulously. 

"I thought it was just because you were tired or frightened after what you thought you saw in the Hollow," John began at the confused look on Clara's face. "But, no, you're actually mad at me."

"I'm not mad John." She began, only to get cut off by the ex-solider. 

"Yes you are, and I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry," He stood up, the intensity showing in his eyes. He didn't want her mad at him, she was the last person he wanted mad at him. 

"I'm mad at myself, John!" Clara finally shouted and John looked at her confused. "I'm mad at myself for getting so insanely jealous, when I have no right to be. You can like whoever you want, and if that's Tyler than I really can't stand in your way can I?"

For the longest time John just stared at her, like he was trying to comprehend what she just said, like there was supposed to be some double meaning behind. And slowly, but surely a smile spread across his lips and a laugh escaped. It started as a short chuckle as his hand came up to ruffle his hair, but it grew louder and more frequent the more it went on. 

Clara puffed out her bottom lip, her face turning red with anger, "and now your laughing at me. I don't have to stand here and take this." She stomped her foot, whirling around to stalk off to the hotel.

"No, Clara, wait," John jogged to catch up with her, grabbing her arm and forcing her to stop, but she could still hear the soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Clara, stop."

"What?" She whirled around on him, only to be cut off.

But this time it wasn't by him talking, it was by him kissing her. A muffled gasp got caught in her throat, her eyes widening for only a moment before they fluttered shut, melting into his touch. His large hands came up on either side of her face, cupping her cheeks and holding her there. 

They pulled apart after what felt like forever, both breathing heavily, "Tyler's not the one I like." He told her, tilting his head to the side to meet her chocolate gaze. 

"She's not?" Her voice was low a breathy whisper. 

"No," He gave her a firm nod and Clara felt her lips break into a small smile just as John reconnected their lips, pulling her closer, into his chest. 

A loud whistle startled them, and they broke apart, turning to see Sherlock and Tyler standing there. The blonde with a wide smirk as Sherlock frowned in confusion. He turned to look at Tyler, "sentiment?"

"Sentiment." Tyler nodded with a wide smile, getting a laugh from Clara.