"Sherlock, episode 2x02: The Hounds of Baskerville" Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Rupert Graves, Mark Gatiss, Una Stubbs Guest starring: Russell Tovey, Clive Mantle and a brief appearance by Andrew Scott We open in a very bizarrely tinted forest. I’m gonna say it’s twilight. Chrissy: Beware of werewolves and sparkly vampires. Diandra: Yeeeeeaaaah, hold that thought. We get quick back and forth cuts of a kid running and a guy thrashing around, apparently being mauled by something that is growling in canine fashion, but it’s not really clear how these two things are related. The kid comes upon a rocky clearing and runs into a lady walking her dog. She asks if the kid is lost. He stares at the dog, who is grumbling warily like “what?! What do you want?!” and screams. And we cut to what is obviously supposed to be an adult version of the kid – who happens to be played by a guy who played a werewolf...or whatever that was on “Being Human” - standing in the darkening forest while crows screech in the distance. “Oh, crap, is it that time of the month already,” he thinks. “God, I hope I didn’t kill anyone this time.” Chrissy: Buuuuuurrrrrrrp. Credits. This episode is apparently written by Mark Gatiss, which might explain some things. John is sitting in his chair in 221b when Sherlock bursts through the door, completely splattered in blood and holding a harpoon. “Well, that was tedious,” he snarls. John blinks and, of all the questions that could possibly come to mind at this particular moment, just asks if he went on the subway like that. “None of the cabs would take me,” Sherlock grumbles and goes presumably in the direction of the bathroom to wash all that off. And that, kids, is how you turn an entire short story into a throwaway joke. Chrissy: As you pointed out in the last episode, John seems to have learned since last season that it’s easier to just roll with whatever insanity comes with living with Sherlock. ‘Oh, you’re naked in the middle of Buckingham Palace. Great.’ ‘Oh, you’re holding an enormous weapon and splattered with blood. Want some tea?’ Diandra: So basically normal has become a relative term. Chrissy: More like he’s accepted that there no longer IS such a thing as normal. Sometime later, apparently, Sherlock is pacing the floor anxiously, still holding the harpoon, but now he and it are clean. John is reading the paper and Sherlock asks if he’s finding anything. John says there was a military coup in Uganda (must be Tuesday) and another picture of Sherlock with that hat. Sherlock groans. He starts in on British politics, but Sherlock snaps that he meant something of IMPORTANCE. “John, I need some. Get me some.” John says no, they agreed he was going cold turkey. Also, nobody within a two mile radius will sell him anything anymore because they’ve been “paid off”. Sherlock sneers that that’s a stupid idea and who came up with it anyway? John just clears his throat pointedly. Sherlock calls for Mrs. Hudson and starts pawing through everything on and around the desk, throwing papers all over the floor. John calmly says that he’s been doing really well and he can’t give up now. Sherlock goes right to begging John to just tell him where they are. John says nope, can’t help him. Sherlock offers to tell him next week’s lottery numbers. John just chuckles and Sherlock mutters that it was worth a shot. He dives at the fireplace and is riffling through...whatever frantically when Mrs. Hudson arrives. He asks what she’s done with his emergency stash of cigarettes. She reminds him that he doesn’t let her touch his things. And since she hasn’t pointed it out in this episode yet: she isn’t his housekeeper. He growls and starts playing with the harpoon again, fidgety. John makes a drinking gesture at Mrs. Hudson, who offers to make Sherlock a nice cup of tea and asks if he could maybe put the harpoon away. Sherlock rants that he needs something stronger than tea. 7% stronger, in fact. Chrissy: So is he actually looking for cigarettes or is he looking for “cigarettes”. Diandra: Yes. This is one of the things about this show – they mostly shy away from talking about Sherlock’s drug habits. It was mentioned briefly in the first episode, but after that it becomes all about a smoking addiction and we forget that the Sherlock Doyle wrote was SHOOTING COCAINE right away in the second book. He points the harpoon at an alarmed Mrs. Hudson and notes that she has seen Mr. Chatterjee again. She’s wearing a new dress, but she has baking flour on the sleeve. John tiredly tries to dissuade Sherlock from deducing their landlady, but he keeps going. She has traces of foil on her thumbnail from scratch cards and “we all know where that leads, don’t we?” Chrissy: Disappointment? He inhales and notes that her perfume is “Casbah Nights” which is “pretty racy for first thing on Monday morning, wouldn’t you agree?” Apparently his website details not only different types of tobacco ash, but how to identify different types of perfume. In conclusion: “I wouldn’t pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He’s got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about. Well, nobody except me.” John yells at him and Mrs. Hudson storms out. Sherlock squats in his chair and rocks like an autistic kid trying to self-soothe. John puts his paper down and orders Sherlock to go after Mrs. Hudson and apologize. Sherlock blinks at his ‘you WILL obey me’ expression and says “Oh, John, I envy you so much. Your mind. It’s so placid, straightforward, barely used.” Chrissy: Okay, that’s it. Take your pants off and bend over. He says his mind is like an engine racing out of control. Or a rocket tearing itself apart on the launch pad, unable to take off. Chrissy: So...you need help getting your rocket to launch? What are we talking about here? Diandra: Aren’t there pills for that these days? Chrissy: I thought that was John’s job. Diandra: Only in fanfiction. Chrissy: By the way... Diandra: If the next words out of your mouth are “how is your story going”, so help me god... Chrissy: That wasn’t what I was going to say. Diandra: Oh? Go ahead then. Chrissy: ..................yeah, I’ve got nothing. Sherlock shrieks that he NEEDS a CASE. John yells back in half mocking imitation that he JUST solved one “by harpooning a dead pig, apparently.” Sherlock says that was this morning and he needs a new one. Or, you know, some crack if nobody had the decency to die in mysterious fashion since then. Chrissy: Or you could help me get my rocket to launch. You know, whatever. Diandra: Since when are you Sher...screw it. Is that all I am to you? A living sex doll? Chrissy: No, you’re too mouthy for that. More like a nagging wife. Diandra: And yet you never actually listen to the words I’m saying. You just ignore me until you need somebody to stroke your “ego”. Chrissy: Well, you ARE very good at that. Diandra: Hmm, thank you. I do a lot of research. Plus, you know, violin playing helps. Chrissy: And you’ve already forgotten that you’re supposed to be John right now. Diandra: I am? Ugh. That’s too confusing. Let’s go back to what we know. John asks if there’s anything on the website. Sherlock hands him the laptop, which now has a prominent Apple logo on the top, and says there’s a message from someone who wants him to help find their rabbit Bluebell, who supposedly turned “luminous” just before disappearing. “Like a fairy,” Sherlock quotes in an approximation of a little girl’s voice. Oh, and the hutch was still locked so it didn’t escape and there were no signs of forced entry. Also, there was a fish swimming in the water bowl, which wasn’t there before. It had tufts of hair on it. Chrissy: I don’t...where did you just go? Diandra: Never read “Jackaby”, huh? Never mind. Scratch that last part. Sherlock stops suddenly and says actually, this is great. “Phone Lestrade. Tell him there’s an escaped rabbit.” John says surely he can’t be serious. Chrissy: Don’t call me Shirley. Diandra: [high fives Chrissy] Sherlock says it’s either this or Clue. John says nope, they are NEVER playing that again. Sherlock asks why. John says it’s not actually possible for the victim to have murdered themselves because that’s not how the game works. Sherlock whines that it was the ONLY possible solution and the rules are WRONG. So, going back to the last episode where the Clue board was stabbed to the wall for several scenes with nobody commenting on it...I assume Sherlock put it there because he’s the one with the habit of using knives to attach things around the fireplace, but...what sort of point was he trying to make doing that? Chrissy: I’m guessing it was just a temper tantrum. Not sure why John left it there though unless he was reminding himself of why he should never play this game with Sherlock again. The doorbell rings and John and Sherlock make a joint observation that based on the fact that it only rings once and for a certain length of time it has to be a client. They both breathe a sigh of relief, for completely different reasons. And we cut to them watching some sort of documentary video on Dartmoor. The woman on the video is describing Dartmoor as a place of myth and legend as well as home to a “secret government facility” that supposedly researches chemical and biological weapons. The camera pans to an “authorized personnel only” sign that identifies it as “Baskerville”. Apparently since WWII there have been rumors of genetic experiments being conducted there. “There are many who believe that within this compound in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is: are all of them still inside?” Chrissy: So basically Area 51. Diandra: Yep. And then the “client” – the guy from the beginning of the episode with the big ears – appears on the video, which helpfully introduces him as Henry Knight as he insists that he KNOWS what he saw there when he was a kid and it killed his father. We flash on a drawing of an enormous, muscled dog with red eyes and bloodied fangs. This is identified as nine year old Henry’s drawing. Sherlock stops twitching impatiently and flips the TV off, anxious to get to the part where Henry explains why he’s here. Henry pulls out a handkerchief to blow his nose and John encourages him to take his time. Sherlock is like yeah, sure, but, you know, FASTER. Chrissy: And you wonder why you have problems with your rocket. Diandra: What is that supposed to mean? Chrissy: I mean maybe if you took the time to go through the proper ignition sequence and do it right, you wouldn’t have trouble getting it to launch. Instead you get all impatient and try to skip steps and end up blowing an o-ring. Diandra: I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure what we’re talking about anymore. Chrissy: You know what? Neither am I. Henry asks if Sherlock has ever been to Dartmoor. He says it’s amazing and unique. “Bleak but beautiful”. “Not interested, moving on,” Sherlock mutters. John looks at him out of the corner of his eye. Henry says he and his dad used to go out for walks on the moor every evening after his mother died. Sherlock says yes, that’s lovely, now about this violent murder of your only living parent. Let’s talk about that. John is still surprisingly silent. Henry says there’s this place called Dewer’s Hollow – a local landmark. When Sherlock just stares blankly he adds that it’s an ancient name for the Devil. Sherlock doesn’t see the significance. John asks if he “saw the Devil” that night. Henry shakily says yes, it had black fur and red eyes and it ripped him apart. He can’t remember anything else, but he was wandering the moor the next morning and his dad’s body was never found. Sherlock and John look at each other and John suggests that he’s describing a large dog or a wolf. Sherlock says yeah, that or a genetic experiment. Henry asks if they’re mocking him. He says his dad always talked about the things they did at Baskerville and people used to laugh at him too. He says at least the people who made that video took him seriously. Sherlock says yes, it probably did wonders for tourism. John sighs and decides he’s going to have to play good cop here. Chrissy: But it’s more fun when he plays bad cop. Diandra: Shh...later. He leans over and gently notes that WHATEVER happened to his father happened twenty years ago, so why is he coming to them now? Henry sneers that he doubts Sherlock can help him since he’s not taking any of this seriously. He gets up to leave and Sherlock asks if this has something to do with “what happened last night”. Chrissy: How do you know about the prostitute I ki...I mean, um...what? Something happened last night? John gets a “oh, fuck, here it comes” look on his face as Sherlock launches into his little deduction routine. He says Henry came up from Devon on the first available train this morning after a “disappointing” breakfast and some black coffee. The girl across the aisle thought he was cute and he was briefly interested but has decided not to pursue her. He also hasn’t had his first cigarette of the day and Sherlock invites him to please just go ahead and light up now. John rolls his eyes and sighs. I love how we’ve gone from the starry eyed “you’re so BRILLIANT” to “oh, God, there he goes again. Shoot me.” Henry slowly sits back down, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, and asks how the hell Sherlock figured all of that out. “It’s not important,” John starts to redirect, but Sherlock steamrolls right over him. He gets maybe three words about ticket holes out before John begs him to not do this now and Sherlock begs him to please let him have this because he’s been “cooped up in here for ages”. John grumbles that he’s just showing off. Sherlock is like ‘um...duh?’ Henry looks back and forth between them like ‘do you two need a moment?’ Chrissy: Yes. Diandra: No. Sherlock goes back to explaining that Henry has the napkin from the train and it has a coffee and ketchup stain. Henry asks how he knew the food was “disappointing”. Sherlock says um...because it was served on a train. It’s like airline food. Next. He says the angle and type of handwriting on the phone number on the napkin tells him it was written by a girl sitting across from him and that was before he used the napkin to mop up coffee, which smudged the numbers. He rewrote the last four digits, so he was considering calling, but since he just used it now to blow his nose he must have changed his mind. And the smoking thing is the usual signs of a smoker plus the fact that his hands are shaking and he wouldn’t have had time to smoke between the train and the cab. So, in conclusion, something important happened last night to make him jump on the “oh, god, it’s still dark out, why am I awake” train this morning. Henry says yes. Yes, he’s right. John takes a sip from his coffee mug with an expression that clearly says ‘of course he’s right. He’s aaaaaaaallllways right. Smug bastard.’ Sherlock tells Henry to shut up and smoke already and leans forward anxiously. John clears his throat and starts summarizing that Henry’s parents both died when he was seven and... everyone is distracted as Sherlock practically jumps in Henry’s lap to get a lungful of secondhand smoke. Henry stares at him as he sits back down like ‘what the actual fuck, dude’. John bravely continues that that must have been quite traumatic for him and maybe it’s possible that his seven year old self invented this fantastic story because... Sherlock leans over to inhale some more smoke and they both look at him warily. Chrissy: Just ignore him. He thinks he’s part bloodhound. I just recently got him to stop bringing home dead squirrels. Diandra: I told you, those were for an EXPERIMENT. Henry says that’s what his therapist said. She also encouraged him to come back to Dartmoor to “face his demons”. Sherlock asks what happened when he went back to Dewer’s Hollow last night. We flash back on Henry standing in the middle of the woods as he says Dewer’s Hollow is a “strange” place that makes you feel cold inside. “So afraid”. Sherlock grumbles that if he wanted poetry he would read John’s emails to his girlfriends. At least those are funny. John, staring at the opposite wall, lets out a big, dramatic sigh. Chrissy: You see what I have to put up with, Henry? I’ve had daydreams about smothering him with a pillow. Diandra: Oh, is that what you were doing when you were hovering beside my bed the other night? I didn’t realize homicidal fantasies could produce erections. Does that always happen for you? Chrissy: I don’t know. Maybe we should do an experiment. I’ll choke you out and we’ll see what happens. Henry says he found footprints in the spot where his father was killed. Sherlock flops back in his chair with a groan and asks if that’s all he’s got. Henry says yes, but... Sherlock interrupts to say the therapist was right: he’s invented a memory to mask a childhood trauma. “Boring. Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Thank you for smoking.” Henry asks what about the footprints though. Sherlock says they could be anything and are therefore probably nothing. He makes a “shoo” gesture and heads for his bedroom. Henry calls after him that the footprints were of a “gigantic hound”. Sherlock hesitates and asks him to say that again. Henry starts to reword the entire thing, but Sherlock insists he repeat the exact words he just used. “Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound,” he repeats. Sherlock says he’ll take the case. John says wait, what? A minute ago this was boring and suddenly footprints that could be anything are interesting? “As ever, John, you weren’t listening,” Sherlock chastises. Chrissy: No, really. You should start sleeping with one eye open. Sherlock thinks Baskerville is a good place to start. Henry asks if that means he’ll come. Sherlock says no, he’s much too busy to leave London now, but he’s putting his “best man” on it. He pats John’s shoulder and adds that John is always good about sending him relevant data even though he doesn’t understand it himself. Chrissy: That’s it. I’m getting my gun. Diandra: Oh, whatever. You thrive on the excitement and you need me just as much as I need you. Chrissy: Yes, but you don’t need to have four perfectly functioning limbs. Keep that in mind. John yelps that he is not too BUSY because ten minutes ago he was bitching that he didn’t have a case. Sherlock says he has Bluebell the glow in the dark rabbit, which is important because NATO. Yeah, it barely makes sense, but the book centered on John so whatever. John says fine and walks over to the fireplace, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from under the skull. That is a terrible hiding place. He tosses them at Sherlock. Sherlock, apparently changing his mind again, tosses them aside and says he doesn’t need them and he’s going to Dartmoor. “You go on ahead, Henry. We’ll follow later.” Chrissy: If you think this is what I meant when I said we should “get away” sometime you have another thing coming. John exits 221b with a couple travel bags and heads for the taxi where Sherlock is waiting. The camera pans over a little to show some shadows behind the closed door to the café. We know one of them is Mrs. Hudson because we can hear her yelling. Something is thrown at the door and John winces and notes that she must have “gotten to” the wife in Doncaster. Sherlock says yep, and “wait till she finds out about the one in Islamabad.” Dartmoor. Pretty lighting on the ancient rocky landscape. And then we switch to Sherlock driving some sort of tank of a truck along deserted country roads. They stop somewhere to get bearings...or, you know, settle an argument about how lost they are. Sherlock climbs on top of a rocky little cliff while John consults a map and points out where things are from the ground. Sherlock points at some DANGER KEEP OUT signs and asks what that is. John says it looks like a minefield, which, you know...Baskerville is an army base so it kind of makes sense that they would wrap the whole thing in barb wire. They pull up in a cute little Welsh...sorry, rural English village which is totally not actually in Wales. A man is standing beside one of the buildings with a sign that says “beware the hound” and has a silhouette of the wolf from every English folktale. He’s some sort of tour guide and he’s reminding a group of tourists to stay away from the moors at night if they want to live. Sherlock flips up the collar on his coat. John looks at him pointedly and he says what? “It’s cold.” Chrissy: Yeah. Sure. Diandra: Isn’t this the part where you should offer to help me warm up? Chrissy: Later. Also, the way you kept pissing me off earlier, don’t be surprised if my version of “warming you up” involves slapping you until your cheeks turn red. Diandra: Which cheeks are you...you know what? Never mind. Don’t answer that. Meanwhile, Henry is back on his therapists couch, having flashbacks of his father’s death. He says the part where the giant dog attacks hasn’t changed. She asks if something else DOES change. He says he’s getting flashes of words. Liberty and in. But he has no idea what that could mean and neither does the therapist. John is getting the keys from the bar and the manager is apologizing that they couldn’t find a double room for them. John starts to say that that’s fine because they’re not...and gives up and just hands him the money. Chrissy: Yeah, just give me one single room. Fuck it. Everyone is going to make assumptions no matter what I say. Diandra: We can take turns. Chrissy: Well, somebody has a lot of confidence in their endurance. Diandra: Yeah, I meant take turns sleeping on the floor. You’re going first, by the way. John sees a receipt for “meat supplies” on the skewer on the counter and steals it while the manager’s back is turned. When the guy turns back he asks about the skull and crossbones on the map of the moor. The manager says it’s called the Great Grimpen Minefield. It’s the Baskerville testing site and it’s been there for so long that nobody’s really sure what’s there anymore exactly. John, noting the name “minefield”, asks if there’s explosives. Manager says yeah, at the very least. People say you’re lucky if you ONLY get blown up trying to break into the place. And he should keep that in mind if he decides to take a stroll through the countryside with his boyfriend. It’s not great for tourism, but the giant “demon hound” and its accompanying folklore kind of makes up for it because, yes, Sherlock was right: that documentary did wonders for them. John asks if the manager has actually seen the giant demon dog. Manager says no, but points to the guy with the “beware the hound” sign outside and says HE has. Sherlock, who has been wandering around the outskirts of the room this whole time like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself, perks up and slips outside to stalk the guy. Another guy comes up to the counter and says yeah, they’ve been really busy these days between the monster and the prisoner. “I don’t know how we sleep nights, do you, Gary?” The first guy – Gary – goes back around the bar and pats his arm, answering that he sleeps like a baby actually. Second guy – clearly his boyfriend or maybe husband - says he’s lying, he actually snores. He nods in the direction Sherlock left in and asks “is yours a snorer?” John asks if they have any crisps in a tone that I will interpret as nervous deflection from the fact that he actually knows the answer to that question. Chrissy: We’re not a couple, damnit! I just happen to know how he likes his tea and which side of the bed he sleeps on and that he makes these cute little noises in his sleep and...yeah. I can see it now. Diandra: Hmm, yes. How did you like that lucky cat I got you by the way, wife? Outside, Sherlock sits at a table with the tour guy, whose name is apparently Fletcher. He starts the conversation by jokingly trying to get him to admit that he’s never actually seen the vicious hellbeast dog. Fletcher asks if he’s a reporter. Sherlock says no, he’s just...um... curious. So has he seen it? Does he actually have proof of its existence? Fletcher asks why he would tell HIM if he did. He gets up to leave and John arrives. Sherlock latches onto this and tells John that their bet is off. He keeps rambling about how his plan requires complete darkness and they have another half hour of daylight. Chrissy: Also, we didn’t get a double room, so you’re on your own with the whole rocket situation. Fletcher asks what this thing was about a bet. Sherlock says he bet John Fletcher couldn’t prove that he’d seen the hound. John, wheels frantically turning, is like yes! That bet! Fletcher completely falls for it and says he saw it just a month ago up at the hollow. He pulls up a picture on his phone and waves it at Sherlock. Sherlock snorts at the Lock Ness Monster quality of the picture and announces that he’s won. Fletcher protests that that isn’t ALL he has. It’s just...okay, so there were no witnesses with him because nobody likes going up there. It gives them a creepy sort of feeling. “Ooo, is it haunted,” Sherlock mocks. Fletcher says no, but there is definitely something out there. He suspects it escaped from Baskerville. Sherlock says what, like a clone or a mutant or something? Except thanks to a typo, the subtitles suggest not a “clone”, but a “cone”. Chrissy: Yeah, it’s not the whole dog. Just one of those cones they put on them to keep them from biting the stitches. It just sort of hovers in mid-air. Diandra: It’s creepy from a distance because it amplifies the howling, but up close it’s kind of funny to watch it bump into stuff. Fletcher says whatever – they don’t know what sort of chemicals those guys are spraying in the direction of town. Or slipping in the water. Sherlock asks if that’s really all he’s got. Fletcher says actually he had a friend who worked for the MOD once. He showed up late to a fishing trip they had planned, totally shaken and pale, babbling that he’d SEEN things he could never unsee. He claimed he’d been sent to some sort of army something that could have been Baskerville and there were some HORRIBLE things in some super secret labs. Like mutated rats as big as dogs and dogs as big as horses. He shows Sherlock a cast of an enormous canine footprint. Sherlock hands fifty pounds over to John, who cheerfully accepts and will likely not be giving it back. So the boys drive right up to the Baskerville compound and Sherlock hands some sort of pass to a guard. John asks how the hell they have an ID that gets them in. Sherlock says it’s not really specific to HERE, but it’s Mycroft’s so it could probably get them into anything. “I um...[clears throat] acquired it ages ago, just in case.” Translation: Mycroft doesn’t know I have it. We see a guard swiping it on a monitor that pulls up a picture of Mycroft as John mutters that they’re totally going to get caught. Sherlock promises they won’t...yet. “Oh, hi, we just thought we’d come and have a wander around your top secret weapons base,” John mutters. “Really? Great! Come in, kettle’s just boiled.” No, really, I kind of love this new snarky John. The soldier who took the ID hands it back to Sherlock and they all stand back to let him drive through. Sherlock says he DID tell him that Mycroft is basically the British government. But they have twenty minutes before somebody figures out something’s wrong. They’re escorted deeper into the facility on foot and a soldier spills out of his own jeep to ask Sherlock what’s wrong and are they in trouble? “Are we in trouble, SIR,” Sherlock corrects. Oh, why the hell would anyone in uniform address YOU like their superior? You’re not actually Mycroft. Or are we assuming they are stupid enough to not have noticed that you look nothing alike? Sherlock asks if they are expected. The soldier says the ID got their attention and introduces himself as Corporal Lyons. But seriously, is there something wrong? Because they don’t usually get inspections. John finally decides to use his own military status to take control of the situation and asks if the corporal has ever heard of a spot check. He takes out his captain’s ID and introduces himself and the corporal immediately salutes him. Why didn’t we try this right out of the gate? Chrissy: Because Sherlock might have an inappropriate reaction to John being all commanding and bad ass? Lyons says the major will want to see them. Sherlock opens his mouth, but John says they don’t have time for that. They’re going to need a full tour. Now. And that’s an order. He doesn’t raise his voice at all, but Lyons scurries to obey him anyway. Sherlock’s lips twitch a bit and he looks at John with what I will assume is a newfound respect. Chrissy: Yeah, that and a newly discovered potential military kink. Diandra: And lo a thousand fanfics were launched. Chrissy: Oh, I would think that number is way higher than that. Diandra: Especially if you combine it with stuff from the last episode and conclude that Sherlock likes to be dominated in general. Lyons swipes his card on the panel beside the nearest door. Sherlock swipes Mycroft’s and the door pops open. As they’re being led down a hall, Sherlock mutters that that was a nice touch. John says he hasn’t pulled rank on anybody in a LONG time. Sherlock asks if he enjoyed it. John says fuck yeah. Chrissy: Good, because I’m going to need you to do it again when we get home. Diandra: Hope you have your dog tags and/or uniform somewhere still. I think I have discovered a way to fix the rocket situation. Lyons escorts them down a couple flights to an insanely brightly lit lab with cages full of shrieking monkeys. Sherlock asks how many animals they have. “Lots,” Lyon’s non-answers. Chrissy: And what do you do at this facility? I don’t know. Stuff. Sherlock asks if any have ever escaped. Lyons says they’d have to learn how to use the lift. Well...they’re monkeys. They have opposable thumbs and reasonable intelligence. Chrissy: Eh, as long as they’re not testing a cure for Alzheimer’s and hiring Draco Malfoy to guard the cages, they’re good. Diandra: And absolutely under NO circumstances should the facility be run by Hannibal Lecter. They are met by a Dr. Frankenstein...sorry, FrankLAND...who jokes that they should be careful they don’t get “stuck here” because he just came to fix a leaky faucet. Chrissy: Yeah, hahahaha...get back to work, slave. John asks how far down the elevator goes. In what is apparently going to be a continuing tradition of cryptic non answers, Lyons says “quite a way”. Can’t we just agree right now that we shouldn’t ask him any more questions? John, undeterred, asks what’s down there. Lyons says um...the bins. As they continue through the labs, John asks what it is exactly they do here. Lyons notes that he should probably know that already if he’s here for an inspection, shouldn’t he? Um...der... John says yes, well, he’s not an EXPERT, is he? Lyons says they do all sorts of research from stem cells to cure for the common cold. Chrissy: Oh, I forgot: if you see Emma Thompson? Run for your life. Diandra: That was cancer, but yes. Just make sure you only do it during the day. You should spend your nights locked in a super secure bunker unable to sleep because you’re too focused on not shitting yourself every time one of the vampire zombie hoards outside wails. John says but it’s mostly weapons right? Biological? Chemical? Lyons is like yes. All of the above. Alarmingly, the next room they enter appears to have a monkey who immediately leaps up and gives them a fair approximation of a Nazi salute. Chrissy: No, Bobo! Nicht jetzt! Diandra: Achtung! Toilette! Schnell! Chrissy: Wow. You really need to learn more German words. Diandra: Eh, I remember the important ones. In any language. I know how to ask for two beers in Spanish and note the nice weather we’re having in Japanese. Chrissy: That last one is definitely Minnesotan. Diandra: Isn’t it? Lyons introduces them to Dr. Stapleton, a petite middle aged woman. He says these guys are Priority Ultra and they’re here for an inspection. Sherlock asks what her role is here. She says that’s classified so she’s not at liberty to answer. Sherlock scoffs that she certainly is and suggests that she answer OR ELSE. John kind of gives him a sideways glance like “maybe we should go back to me leading here?” Chrissy: Oh, just ignore him. He ALWAYS wants to lead. Diandra: I didn’t hear you complaining last time. Of course, your mouth was kind of full... Dr. Stapleton gives the following bullshit answer: “I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up.” Chrissy: Hmm...funny. Irene said something similar, but I think when she said “pies” she really meant something else. Diandra: And when I say “in” I do mean I really get them in there, although sometimes I like to play with the outside a bit. It’s all generally very messy. Sherlock says he realizes where he knows her name now. He opens a little notebook, on which he has simply written “BLUEBELL” in enormous letters. She stares at it and – instead of noting that he’s shit at taking notes and must waste a TON of paper - asks if he’s been talking to her daughter. Sherlock asks why Bluebell had to die. John is like ‘wait, we’re talking about that rabbit again?’ Sherlock says obviously if it disappeared from a locked hutch it was an inside job. Also, the fact that it was glowing in the dark is suspicious. Dr. Stapleton is like yeah...um...what are we talking about now? Who are you? Somewhere, somebody sitting at a computer gets a “level five security breech” alert and picks up a phone. Sherlock checks his watch, announces that they’ve seen enough and herds John toward the door. John asks if they really just broke into a military base to investigate a fucking RABBIT disappearance. At a club whose name we will not be mentioning yet, Mycroft gets a text on his phone. He looks at it and gets a hilarious ‘what the FUCK’ expression on his face before going to send his own text. Sherlock is still marching through the halls of the facility when his phone beeps with a message from Mycroft demanding to know just what the hell he thinks he’s doing. He informs John that it’s been twenty-three minutes and notes that Mycroft is getting slow. They get in the elevator with Dr. Frankland, who has apparently just been riding up and down since they last saw him and Lyons. When the doors open, there is a man in military uniform glaring at them from the hallway, demanding to know why he wasn’t told about this. Lyons greets him as “Major” and John realizes this must be Major Barrymore. He goes to shake his hand and says they’re very impressed with the place. The major rants that Baskerville is supposed to be above this sort of bureaucratic bullshit. Over his ranting and while brushing past him down the hall, Sherlock says it’s a new policy and they couldn’t expect to go unmonitored INDEFINITELY. He mutters at John to keep walking. Too late. Lyons receives some sort of message that prompts him to slap a lockdown button. As the doors lock and the alarms blare he apologizes that Sherlock’s ID is unauthorized. John tries to play it off as some sort of mistake. Computer error. It’ll all go in the report. Dr. Frankland, who has been trailing after them like a lost puppy, reassures the major that he knows who these men are because he never forgets a face and clearly Mr. Holmes here has a particularly...um...unique face. “Good to see you again, Mycroft.” John stares wide eyed as Frankland claims to have met “Mycroft” at a WHO conference. Chrissy: Or was it a “Doctor Who” convention? I always get those mixed up. Diandra: Either way, I’m pretty sure Peter Capaldi was involved. And possibly some zombies. Chrissy: I don’t know what’s more alarming. The level of fanwank we just managed to achieve or the fact that I actually got all those references even though I don’t watch “Doctor Who”. Diandra: As I said, the fact that Mark Gatiss wrote this episode might explain some things. Frankland offers to show the boys out. The major says fine, it’s his funeral. Frankland says yeah, whatever and follows them out the door. Once they’re outside, he says this is about Henry Knight isn’t it? He knew the kid wanted help, but he didn’t think he’d contact Sherlock Holmes. Oh, and by the way, they’re lucky the rest of the people in there don’t get out as much as he does and therefore don’t have enough cultural knowledge to recognize them. He notes that Sherlock isn’t wearing the hat. Sherlock grumbles that it wasn’t HIS hat. Frankland turns to John and says he barely even recognized Sherlock without the hat. Sherlock grumbles some more. John is enjoying this though, especially since Frankland adds that he really enjoys reading his blog. He especially liked the “pink thing” and the one about the aluminum crutch. Sherlock decides he’s had enough of this and asks if Frankland knows Henry. Frankland says he knew Henry’s DAD better because while he was a good friend he had all sorts of crazy theories about Baskerville. He gives Sherlock his number and offers to help with Henry. Sherlock asks what it is Frankland does here again. Frankland laughs that he’d love to tell him, but then he’d have to kill them. Sherlock is like yeah...jokes. I know what those are. We didn’t have them on my planet. So tell me about Dr. Stapleton. Frankland smiles tightly and says he can’t speak ill of a colleague. Sherlock says he could speak WELL of one and it’s interesting that he’s choosing not to. Frankland is like yeah...interesting huh? Wink wink. As they return to the car, John asks what that whole thing about the rabbit was about. Sherlock flips his coat collar up and John groans and asks if they could please not do that this time. Sherlock is like ‘what? What are we doing?’ “You being all mysterious with your...cheekbones and turning up your coat collar so you look cool.” Chrissy: Stop being so attractive! It’s making me question my sexuality! Diandra: Yes, that would be the generally agreed upon slasher reading. Sherlock scoffs that he does NOT do that. John says yes, he does, and gets in the car before Sherlock can pout about it. Sometime later, John breaks the apparently long awkward silence in the car by bringing up that email from the little girl about Bluebell again. Sherlock says her name is Kirsty Stapleton and her mother specializes in genetic manipulation. John says what, like making rabbits glow in the dark? Yes, John. Exactly like that. Scientists have done this with cats too. It involves splicing a jellyfish gene onto mammals and apparently cures feline leukemia. John says okay, but... Sherlock says they know Dr. Stapleton is doing experiments on rabbits, but has she been working on anything deadlier? John notes that “deadlier than a rabbit” is a pretty large category. Sherlock blinks at him like ‘what is the DEAL with you lately?’ Henry’s house, which is large even by American standards. John notes as much by asking if Henry is rich or something. Henry just says uh...yeah. Yes, he is. And we go right to them sitting in the kitchen with tea as Henry explains that he keeps seeing these words: liberty and in. John writes this down in a notepad and, as Henry turns to put something in the fridge, asks if it means anything to Sherlock. Sherlock mutters that there’s an expression “liberty in death” that is supposedly the only true “freedom”. Henry comes back and asks what the next step is. Sherlock offers a plan to take him back out to the moor and see if anything attacks. “What,” John blurts, giving him the usual “are you out of your fucking mind” look. Sherlock is like ‘what? That would get this over with faster, wouldn’t it?’ John berates him and Sherlock asks if he has any better ideas. If they are actually looking for some sort of creature they need to figure out where it lives. He smiles pointedly at Henry, who looks like he’s regretting ever calling them in the first place. So all three guys go out to the moors as the sun is setting and poke around with flashlights. John falls behind when something moves in some bushes, even though it sounds like it’s just some sort of bird. But from his position, he can see a blinking light just over a hill in the distance. He turns to point it out to Sherlock, but he and Henry are no longer anywhere in sight. He pulls out his notepad and reads the rhythmic blinking as morse code: UMQRA. Obviously this isn’t even close to a word. The light stops and he heads in the direction they had been going in in the hopes of eventually catching up. Meanwhile, Sherlock and Henry are picking past overgrown CAUTION and KEEP OUT signs. Sherlock casually mentions that he ran into Dr Frankland, who seemed worried about Henry. Henry says oh, yeah, Bob is a worrier, but he’s been nice to Henry. Sherlock notes that he knew Henry’s father, but wouldn’t Henry’s father have taken issue with the fact that he works at Baskerville? Henry brushes this off as friendship being a funny thing. “I mean, look at you and John.” Sherlock says what? What about them? Henry non answers that John is pretty straightforward and Sherlock...um...his dad and Uncle Bob agreed never to talk about work. Let’s just put it that way. Chrissy: Oh he was your “uncle”, was he? Diandra: No, let’s not make assumptions about EVERYBODY now. Chrissy: I’m just saying. Henry stops walking suddenly and nods at a little foggy area through an opening in some rock, declaring it Dewer’s Hollow. John is still wandering through the woods when he hears a distant, mechanical banging noise. Like somebody is beating on giant steel drums or something. He finds some sort of oil drum under a tree with water dripping on it and seems to conclude that it’s the source of the noise. That does not, however, explain the big black thing that streaks past behind him or the howling that emanates from the direction it went. He goes running off. Sherlock and Henry are climbing down into the hollow and Sherlock is noting...something about what looks like a random clump of rocks and/or leaves...when they hear the howling too. He points his flashlight up at a ledge and something snarls and darts away. Henry stumbles toward him babbling “ohmygodohmygodDIDYOUSEEIT?” Sherlock blinks and shoves past him, heading back out of the hollow. They meet John on the way out, who asks if they heard that noise just now. Henry says they SAW it. Sherlock grumbles that he didn’t see anything. And suddenly we’re back at the house as Henry grumbles to John that Sherlock, who is now absent for some reason, MUST have seen that because he was standing right next to him. It was RIGHT THERE. John tries to calm him down, making him sit on the couch and offering to give him something to help him sleep. Henry babbles that this is good, really, because it means he’s not crazy. Sherlock definitely saw it, even if he claims he didn’t. Sherlock is in a nice little seating area in the lodge of the hotel, sitting in a big plushy chair by the fire. John sits in the other chair and grumbles that Henry is definitely in a manic state right now, entirely convinced that there’s some sort of “mutant super-dog” roaming the moors. Of course, that’s all nonsense, isn’t it? Sherlock says nothing, but is breathing kind of heavily and looking strangely shaken. John doesn’t notice and pulls out his notebook to discuss the weird morse code message he saw. Sherlock takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, obviously trying to calm down or something. John is like um...okay... so...let’s go over what evidence we have again. Whatever it is is leaving footprints that have been spotted by two people, so let’s assume that’s concrete. Also, they all heard the howling. He notes the odd ways Sherlock’s face is contorting as he tries to hold in some sort of outburst and suggests they figure out who in the area has a big dog. “Henry’s right,” Sherlock finally says. “I saw it too.” John doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Sherlock looks at him, wide-eyed and whispers that he saw the enormous mutant hound. John scoffs that they need to be rational about this and he of ALL PEOPLE should be capable of that. Sherlock goes back to staring at the fire, looking traumatized and maybe strung out. John prompts him to stick to the facts and try again. “Once you rule out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true,” Sherlock blurts. John asks what the hell that’s supposed to mean. Sherlock picks up a scotch glass, his hand visibly shaking, and notes that this is an indicator that he is actually afraid right now. He’s always done such a great job of divorcing himself from his own feelings, but “my body’s betraying me”. He babbles about emotions and how very ANNOYING they are. And then Mark Gatiss breaks the space time continuum. John: Yeah, all right...Spock. Just take it easy. Chrissy: Oh, and we have a new level of nerd fanwank. What does that achievement unlock? Diandra: Referencing a character who quoted that impossible/improbable line back in the 60s, claiming it was something an ancestor of his used to say? Hopefully some aspirin. Chrissy: Worse than that: I’m pretty sure the Zachary Quinto version of Spock used the same quote. Diandra: Yes. Yes, he did. Right before Khan showed up wearing this version of Sherlock’s face and made this entire reference an even bigger confusing mess. I mean, I get it. Mark Gatiss is a gigantic nerd and I love that about him, but he basically just created the Gordian’s Knot of nerd references. And that’s BEFORE taking into account Benedict playing Khan, which hadn’t technically happened yet. Chrissy: Should I go get you that aspirin? Diandra: No, I think I’m good as long as we move on and never mention this again. John notes that Sherlock has been pretty “wired” lately and now he’s gone and gotten himself “a bit worked up”. Sherlock scoffs that there’s nothing WRONG with him, damnit. Then he starts panting and massaging his temples with shaking hands. John watches for a second, then starts calling his name until Sherlock yells that there is NOTHING WRONG WITH HIM. He glances at the other people in the lodge staring at him and lowers his voice. He says he can prove it: John’s plan is to look for a big dog. “Cherchez le chien. Good. Excellent. Yes. Where shall we start?” Then he starts doing cold readings of the other people in the lodge. There’s a widow in the corner with her son the unemployed fisherman. He has a west highland terrier named Whisky, but that’s not exactly what anyone would call a “big” dog, is it? John grumbles at Sherlock to knock it off. Sherlock barrels on that the guy is clearly uncomfortable in that sweater he’s wearing, which is probably either because it’s new or because the pattern is hideous. Probably a Christmas present from mom, which means he’s probably wearing it because he’s trying to play the loving son. Also, based on the amount of food they’re eating he concludes that he’s trying to impress her while eating basically an appetizer himself. John gives in to this obvious distraction and suggests maybe he’s not hungry. Sherlock says no, he practically licked the plate clean and she’s eating dessert. The state of his shirt cuffs and shoes confirms he’s not very well off. Sherlock mockingly imitates John asking how he knows the woman is the guy’s mother and answers that only a mother would give a Christmas present like that. He says it COULD be an aunt, but nah. He goes over the old scars on the back of his hand from fishhooks as evidence of the career he hasn’t had for a while now and concludes that he’s reaching out to mummy for help. Oh, and she’s obviously a widow because she’s wearing her husband’s ring on a chain around her neck. I’m sorry, I just paused the video and Benedict’s face froze in this godawful sneer complete with him looking cross-eyed down his scrunched up nose. I will continue the recap again just as soon as I finish laughing. Chrissy: This may actually be his Smaug face. Diandra: Which is why I can’t take Smaug seriously. Oh, and they have dog hair on their pants, but only below the knees. He mimics John again, asking how the hell he could possibly know what kind of dog it is and that it is named “Whisky” and says they were on the same train and he heard her calling it. Okay, again with the giving evidence in a weird order. He seems to realize this though as he defensively claims this is NOT cheating, it’s listening. “I use my senses, John, unlike some people.” So in conclusion: he is fine. Totally fine. “So just leave. Me. Alone.” John stares and says yeah, okay then. Sure. Why would Sherlock want to listen to him? He’s just his friend. Sherlock sneers that he doesn’t have friends. John says no, that’s true. “Wonder why?” He stomps out the door. Outside, he notices the blinking light has started up in the distance again. He follows it, pulling out his flashlight again. With each blink of the light, some hovertext reminds us that in morse code the blinking is saying UMQRA. John passes several cars at a lookout point and the people in the cars blink at him like “honestly, officer, I didn’t know she was a prostitute!” Except the one car, which has no one in the front seat and is rocking suggestively. From this one, a man’s voice moans that he got “it” caught on his belt. Apparently it takes John this long to figure out what people are doing parking out here as he grumbles “oh, God...” and walks quickly away. Chrissy: You see, it involves rockets... He gets a text from Sherlock announcing that Henry’s therapist is at Cross Keys Pub. How he knows this is anyone’s guess. John texts back “so?” Sherlock immediately responds “interview her?” John asks why the hell he should do that. Sherlock sends a picture. John stares at it and whispers “oh, you’re a bad man.” Chrissy: Although I’m not sure why you’re sending me that picture NOW after instructing me to go to a pub and leave you alone. Also, how did you even get in that position by yourself, much less manage to take a picture of it? Diandra: Yeah, it’s actually a totally innocent picture of the therapist, but I knew Chrissy would say something like that and I’m leaving it this way because I like this version better. Chrissy: You what? I feel so USED! Diandra: Phrasing. Henry’s place. Henry is in a completely different part of the mansion than he was when John left him, watching something on television about wolves. Really? Did that seem like a good idea? He flips the channel and the motion activated floodlights covering the lawn next to the enormous glass doors he’s sitting behind turn on. He looks for what triggered it, but nothing is moving except for some water trickling from a garden hose. Chrissy: This is foreshadowing. Diandra: Meaning he’s going to pee his pants when something actually does appear out there? Chrissy: Now you’re getting it. The lights go off and something dark runs past the camera. The TV is featuring yet ANOTHER movie/show about wolves because they have been the go-to scary monster in the UK for generations. He turns the TV off and the floodlights outside go on again. He steps closer to the window and the dark thing streaks across the yard just as they snap off again. Chrissy: And water trickles from Henry’s garden hose. Diandra: Ah. There it is. Henry lunges for a gun he has been keeping nearby and steps right up to the window. We have a pretty standard horror movie moment where everything is quiet and still and then something BANGS into the glass near his face. He screams and steps back and the next time the lights outside come on we see it’s just a soccer ball. The lights start turning on and off again and again while Henry collapses in a ball on the floor and cries. Meanwhile, John is at the pub “interviewing” the pretty therapist – Dr. Mortimer - over wine. He holds up the empty bottle and offers to get more. She asks if he’s trying to get her drunk. He scoffs that he would NEVER. Chrissy: Why? Is it working? She says she thought a while ago that he was “chatting [her] up”. He asks why she doesn’t think that any MORE. She says well, she started getting suspicious once he started asking about her patients. John says oh, no, he really IS a friend of Henry’s. She says he’s still one of her patients so she can’t talk about him. Also, Henry told her about all his old friends. “So which one are you?” John, realizing this plan has completely failed, says okay, but what about Henry’s father? He was never a patient so she can talk about him. Wasn’t he some sort of conspiracy “nutter”? “You’re only a nutter if you’re wrong,” says Dr. Fox Mulder. And she REALLY hopes he was wrong. John notes that he was fixated on Baskerville and couldn’t Henry have developed the same fixation and started hallucinating a giant hellbeast “hound”. Dr. Mortimer asks why he’s so determined to get her to talk about this. He says because she’s worried about him and John is a doctor who happens to have another “friend who might be having the same problem.” Aw. He’s worried Sherlock is losing it. Chrissy: At least ten years late to be making that observation, isn’t it? Dr. Mortimer is just starting to look like she might say something when Dr. Frankland shows up, slaps John on the back and asks how the investigation is going. Okay, A) why are you here?, B) what the hell sort of plot device is this? and C) no, seriously, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? Dr. Mortimer asks what investigation he’s talking about. Frankland is like ‘what? You don’t read Dr. Watson’s blog about the private detective with the funny hat?’ He identifies John as Sherlock’s “live in personal assistant.” Chrissy: Yes. Ahem. “Assistant”. Diandra: Mostly assisting with rocket-related problems. It’s all very scientific. She notes the “live in” part like this explains everything. Chrissy: It doesn’t? John tries to deflect by introducing Dr. Mortimer to Frankland. Frankland says yeah, hi, listen, “tell Sherlock I’m keeping an eye on Stapleton. Any time he wants a little chat...” He chuckles and leaves them alone. Dr. Mortimer grabs her coat and tells John he should really be buying that guy a drink because “I think he likes you.” John, for once, neglects to announce that he is not gay. We cut back to what looks like exactly the same shot of Sherlock standing on those rocks back when they first came out here, although there doesn’t seem to be a reason. And then Sherlock is just barreling into Henry’s place, grabbing him by the shoulders and staring at him while he asks how he’s feeling. Henry mumbles that he didn’t get a whole lot of sleep. Sherlock spews fake-sounding sympathy and offers to make coffee. He charges through the house and starts rooting around in the kitchen cabinets before Henry can answer. He seems to actually be making coffee, but he also slips something he finds in the coffee can into his pocket. Henry trails after him and says so about last night... Chrissy: Oh, hang on. I’m getting flashbacks. Henry asks why Sherlock is claiming he didn’t see anything. “I mean, I only saw the hound for a minute, but...” Sherlock drops everything he’s doing and asks why Henry keeps calling it a “hound”. Because it’s a strange, archaic word choice for someone his age. He says THIS is why he took the case: Henry used such a strange phrase back at 221b when he was describing the footprints. Henry doesn’t know why he worded it that way. Sherlock brushes past him and says they’ll skip the coffee. Chrissy: Because he’s caffeinated enough already, apparently. Diandra: At least we hope it’s just caffeine making him that twitchy. And now we’re in a graveyard for...some reason. Yes, this episode really is this choppy and weird. Sherlock finds John going through his notes. John pointedly shoves the notepad in his pocket when he sees Sherlock coming and they start acting awkward. Exactly as if the last time they saw each other they had a big fight. Diandra: Let’s play a game. After each line of dialogue the boys actually say, we’ll jump in with possible subtext. Chrissy: You’re on. Sherlock: You uh...getting anywhere with that Morse code? Diandra: I uh...noticed you stayed out all night. John: No. [Gets up and walks away] Chrissy: We were on a break. Sherlock: U-M-Q-R-A, wasn’t it? [follows John like a lost puppy] Diandra: Oh, come on, you know I didn’t mean it! I need you! John: Look, forget it. Chrissy: Look, I’m tired of your bullshit. You can launch your own damn rocket from now on. Sherlock: UMQRA. Uhhhmqura. UMQRA? Diandra: I’m really hoping you find my desperate persistence cute. John: Look, forget it. I thought I was onto something. I wasn’t. Chrissy: God help me, FINE. Sherlock: Sure? Diandra: Really? John: Yeah. Chrissy: No. Sherlock: How about Louise Mortimer? Did you get anywhere with her? Diandra: How about Louise Mortimer? Did you get anywhere with her? John: No. Chrissy: No, she thinks I’m gay too. Sherlock: Too bad. Did you get any information? Diandra: Haha, he’s still mine, bitch. John: Hmm. You’re being funny now? Chrissy: Jealous? Sherlock: John...no, wait. What happened last night... something happened to me...something I’ve not really experienced before. Chrissy: I pictured you in your military uniform holding a riding crop and my rocket went off prematurely. Diandra: Hey, I’m supposed to be doing Sherlock! Chrissy: Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Let’s just say I lost the competition. Diandra: I’m not sure I would consider that losing, but let’s move on anyway. I should note that John is wearing a drab green jacket with strings hanging from it, which, on a woman’s coat I would presume were there to cinch it tighter and accentuate her curves. I have no Earthly idea why a man’s coat would have these and Stephen Moffat clearly doesn’t either because he became strangely fascinated with them in the commentary (hence why I’m mentioning it). I think he floated a theory that if you pulled on them, a parachute would fly out of the back of the coat. Chrissy: Um...anyway. Can we get back to the recap now? John says yes, Sherlock already mentioned that he felt fear last night. Sherlock says no, he felt DOUBT. He’s always been able to trust his senses, but last night he couldn’t believe what he could see with his own eyes. John scoffs that he actually believes he saw some sort of monster. Sherlock says no, but he SAW it. “So the question is: how?” John says okay, so...good luck with following up on that. He starts to walk away and Sherlock calls that he meant what he said before. He doesn’t have friends. You know, except the one. Chrissy: You make me want to be a better man. You complete me. You jump, I jump. Diandra: Really? Knowing that the Reichenbach Falls episode is coming up, you’re going to make that reference? Chrissy: What? John says yeah, okay, and walks away faster before this gets any mushier than it has to. Sherlock has some sort of realization and starts running after him again, babbling that he is “amazing” and “brilliant”. I mean, “you’ve never been the most luminous of people but as a conductor of light, you are unbeatable.” John is like ‘um...thank you? What?’ Sherlock babbles that some people without the gift of genius have the ability to stimulate it in others. Diandra: You stimulate me. Wait, that doesn’t sound right. Chrissy: Sounded fine to me. Diandra: Yeah, it would, wouldn’t it? John points out that Sherlock was apologizing just a minute ago and now he’s going to ruin it. He asks just what he’s done, exactly, that was so “stimulating”. Sherlock pulls out his little notebook, writes HOUND in big capital letters across a page and shows it to John. John is like ‘yeah, you still don’t know how to use that thing properly. So what?’ Sherlock asks what if it isn’t a WORD, what if it’s an acronym? He puts dots between the letters. Before they can discuss this any further, Sherlock notices Lestrade inside the main desk of the lodge, which they have circled back in front of. He marches in and asks what the HELL he’s doing here. Lestrade says yeah, nice to see you too, buddy. I’d ask how the rocket situation is going, but judging by that terse greeting I’m guessing not well. He says he was on vacation and heard they were in the area. So are they looking for this hellhound they keep talking about on TV? Sherlock says he’s still waiting for Lestrade to explain why he’s here. Lestrade repeats that he’s on holiday. Sherlock notes that his skin is so dark that certain establishments in America would refuse to serve him, so obviously he’s already coming BACK from his holiday. “This is Mycroft, isn’t it? One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to spy on me.” Chrissy: I thought I was your handler. Diandra: No, you’re my rocket-launcher-slash-stimulator. Slight difference in connotation. Sherlock says his disguise isn’t even that good and why the hell is he calling himself “Greg”? John frowns and reminds Sherlock that Greg is actually Lestrade’s name. Sherlock looks surprised by this and Greg grumbles that he couldn’t be bothered to figure that out. This, like the location of John’s war wound, is another inconsistency of Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories that this show has turned into a sort of in-joke. The few times that Doyle tried to refer to Lestrade by his given name, he couldn’t seem to remember what the hell that name was. Once he couldn’t even remember what WATSON’S first name was (which will be brought up in a later episode). Remember, these stories were written 100 years ago, before obsessive fans kept track of shit like this and writers could be as inconsistent as they wanted. Which is why he once had Watson explaining the absence of a wife he hadn’t even met yet by saying she was visiting with her mother. Who was dead. Because WHATEVER. Lestrade objects that he does NOT just do what Sherlock’s brother tells him to. Chrissy: At least not unless he’s holding the riding crop. Diandra: So you subscribe to that particular ship too? Chrissy: What? That’s actually a thing? Diandra: Have you read ANY “Sherlock” fic? Chrissy: Apparently not as much as I thought. John says actually, they could use Lestrade on this. He pulls the receipt he took from the counter several scenes ago from his pocket and notes that this is a suspiciously large order of meat for a vegetarian restaurant. So Lestrade is looking over some paperwork at a table with the owner couple, who are fidgeting nervously. Sherlock comes up to where John is standing behind them and hands him a cup of coffee. John looks at it like he’s never seen one before because what is the deal with Sherlock suddenly offering to make coffee for people? “Don’t you want it,” Sherlock asks innocently. John says he doesn’t have to keep apologizing. Chrissy: Though I can think of a few other ways you can do that later in private. Sherlock makes a face like he’s a puppy John just whapped on the nose with a newspaper and John softens and takes the cup with a mumbled “thanks”. Sherlock smiles a little, then watches a little too intently while John takes a sip. John winces and says he doesn’t take sugar in his coffee. Sherlock makes the face again and John guiltily takes another sip and says it’s fine, it’s “good”. Sherlock goes back to staring at John while he drinks. None of this is at all suspicious. If you don’t know anything about Sherlock anyway. The guy who isn’t Gary blurts that the weird order was all him: he had a bacon sandwich at a wedding and one thing led to another and he just can’t stop stuffing himself with meat now. Chrissy: Phrasing. Diandra: I stand by it. Chrissy: Okay, well, in that case, can I say that it was probably a totally innocent mistake because he thought “bacon sandwich” meant something else entirely? Diandra: I was expecting you too, yes. Chrissy: Again with you totally manipulating me into doing exactly what you want. I feel so violated. Diandra: Phrasing. Lestrade brushes off his explanation as a “nice try”. Gary says they’re just trying to give the publicity a little boost by feeding the wild dog they may or may not have found running around on the moor. Lestrade asks where this dog is. Gary says it was holed up in an old mine shaft nearby and it was okay there for a while, but it was vicious and they couldn’t control it. NotGary took it to the vet a month ago and they had to put it down. Gary says it was just a joke. Lestrade notes that their “joke” has nearly driven a man insane. He stomps off. John trails after him. Sherlock pointedly looks into John’s coffee cup and follows. Outside, John tells Lestrade that Sherlock is actually really happy to see him, despite what he says. Chrissy: Oh, I thought that was just a gun in his pocket. Diandra: It was both, probably. Lestrade theorizes that having all the same faces back together just appeals to Sherlock’s... “Asperger’s?” John finishes. Sherlock appears and eyes them suspiciously as they pretend they weren’t just talking about him. Lestrade asks if he believes the story about the dog that was put down. Sherlock mutters that there’s no reason not to. Lestrade shrugs that there’s no harm done and he doesn’t know what he’d charge them with anyway, so...he’ll just talk to the local police. Bye! The second he leaves, John turns to Sherlock and says so that was just a dog people were seeing out there? But that’s not what SHERLOCK saw, now is it? Sherlock says no, what he saw was huge with bright red eyes. Oh, and it was glowing. He shakes his head and says he has a theory, but he needs to go back to Baskerville to test it. John notes that they can’t exactly pull off the ID thing again. Sherlock says nope, and dials his phone. “Hello, brother dear,” he sing-songs into it, all syrupy sweet and fake. Chrissy: Yes, because his response wouldn’t be to just hang up. Diandra: No, I think he knows by now that he can’t dissuade Sherlock from doing anything. At least if he’s made aware of it he can control the damage. So the truck pulls up to the gates again. The scene looks exactly the same as the first time, but now Sherlock is talking about needing to see Major Barrymore as soon as they get inside, so John will have to start searching for this “hound” by himself. He should start in the labs – particularly Stapleton’s. Sherlock warns that it could be dangerous. Yes, because we all know John is wary of all things dangerous. Sure. Inside, Sherlock is apparently trying to talk Barrymore into giving him unlimited access to the facility. The Major is saying he’d absolutely LOVE to do that, but, you know, he should really do something about this flying pig situation first. Sherlock says he just needs twenty four hours and he “negotiated” it already. Chrissy: There was a little hesitation before the word “negotiated”. What, exactly, did he agree to do in exchange for this? Diandra: My guess is it involves a camera and as little clothing as possible. Chrissy: You really think Mycroft would whore out his little brother? Diandra: What? Who said anything about sex? Chrissy: Oh. You know what? Don’t say anything else. I don’t want to know what’s going on in your head. Barrymore grumbles that he has been compelled to go along with this, but he does NOT like it and he doesn’t know what the hell Sherlock is expecting to find anyway. “Perhaps the truth,” Sherlock says. Barrymore says oh, of course...he’s one of those conspiracy freaks. “The big coat should have told me.” Sherlock kind of glances down at it like ‘what? This doesn’t just make me look cool?’ Barrymore tells him to go ahead and knock himself out looking for monsters or aliens or whatever sort of top secret weapons he thinks they have. Chrissy: I think you have me confused with Jack Harkness. Diandra: Nah, Jack would have flirted with him by now. Sherlock snarkily asks if they have any of those things. Barrymore says a couple crashed here in the 60s and they nicknamed them Abbot and Costello. He turns back to his desk and Sherlock rolls his eyes and flounces off. On the lab level they were on before, John steps out of the elevators onto the mostly deserted floor. A couple lab rats exit off to one side at just that moment, shutting off the lights on their way out, leaving the floor seemingly ENTIRELY deserted. Well. That’s not weird at all. He swipes a card to open a door that warns people to keep out “unless you want a cold!” He pokes around a little, apparently finding nothing and nobody. He comes back out to the main room and a giant light flashes in his face, blinding him. And then an alarm starts blaring. He staggers to a door, half covering his ears and half cringing from the bright lights, and swipes his card. The panel flashes “access denied”. He tries a couple more times with the same result and then the lights go off and the alarm stops. He pulls out a flashlight, but that doesn’t help much as we see from his perspective that he still has the afterimage of that giant floodlight blocking most of his vision. There’s clanking sounds from somewhere nearby. John checks a row of sheet- covered cages. The first is empty. The second is empty with the door hanging open. The third has an angry monkey that lunges at him, shrieking. He staggers back and then looks at the next cage, where the door is bent open like whatever was inside escaped. Something growls nearby. John starts breathing heavily and runs back to the door to try swiping the card again. He keeps getting the access denied message and starts pleading with the security panel to please not do this to him. As you do. Chrissy: Actually, by this point I’d be searching for a heavy object to smash the panel with. He dials a number on his cell phone and mutters pleas to whoever he’s calling to pick up. They don’t. He runs as stealthily as possible toward another door to try again, but before he can swipe the card the growling comes from nearby again. He points the flashlight in that direction and tries desperately not to lose his shit. Something pads closer to him and he covers his mouth with the hand not holding the flashlight to...I don’t know, hold in the terrified squeaking noises or just muffle his breathing. He runs to the cage with the open door and locks himself inside, flipping the canvas covering down to hide him and huddling in the back of the cage. The thing outside snarls and growls some more and he covers his mouth again. And then his cell phone rings. He fumbles it out and hisses by way of greeting that it’s “here” with him. Sherlock’s voice drifts from the speaker to ask where “here” is exactly. John babbles that he’s in that first big lab they were led through and Sherlock has to get him out of here PLEASE. The thing growls and he squeaks and covers his mouth again. Sherlock instructs him to keep talking and he’ll find him. John whimpers that he can’t because it will hear him. Sherlock asks him to describe what he’s seeing. John creeps tentatively closer to the spot where the cloth doesn’t quite cover and whispers that he can’t see anything much, really, but he can HEAR it. Sherlock tells him to stay calm and asks again if he can SEE it. John says no, but then we close in on his face as the growling gets closer and he goes straight past “terrified” to “shit, I’m gonna die”. He plasters himself to the back of the cage and says yes, he can see it. It’s here. A shadow moves on the other side of the cloth and then the cloth is flipped up, the light comes on and Sherlock is coming into the cage that John apparently didn’t lock very well and asking if he’s okay. John shrugs him off, babbling that it was just HERE. He staggers around a bit, just as shaken and jittery as Sherlock was back at the lodge earlier, rambling about how it was just here and did he see it? Sherlock says it’s okay now and John shrieks NO IT ISN’T because he was WRONG, the hellbeast is REAL and it was JUST HERE. Sherlock blinks and asks what he really SAW. A huge glowing hound with red eyes? John says yes. Sherlock says yeah, well, that’s because that’s what he was expecting to see based on Sherlock’s description earlier, but he made up the part about it glowing. He says John has been drugged. In fact, they all have. He asks if John can walk. John gasps of COURSE he can walk, what... Chrissy: Oh, sorry, I meant to ask that this morning. Forgot where I was for a second there. Diandra: I didn’t even see you this morning. Chrissy: Oh...........right. Never mind. Sherlock says okay, then, let’s go and marches out the door. John visibly composes himself and follows. In another lab, Dr. Stapleton is examining a rabbit when Sherlock and John barrel in. She asks what this is about this time. Sherlock says “murder” and flips off the lights by the door. The rabbit on the exam table glows green. He turns the light on again and asks if he should tell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell. She sighs and asks what he wants. He asks to borrow a microscope. Sometime later, he’s looking at something through a microscope while John stares into space nearby. Dr. Stapleton asks if John is okay because he looks a bit “peaky”. He says he’s fine. Chrissy: Had a little accident earlier with a garden hose, but it’s fine. She tries to explain the jellyfish gene splicing thing I mentioned earlier to him, but he really doesn’t care. The only question he has is: why. She counters with “why not?” Because scientist. She says it was a mix-up. Her daughter ended up with one of the lab animals, so “poor Bluebell had to go”. John sarcastically notes her overwhelming compassion on the matter. She mutters that she actually hates herself sometimes. He says she can trust him since he’s a doctor and asks in all seriousness what else they have in here. She sighs that if it can be imagined somebody somewhere is probably doing it. Their only limitations are ethical and legal and there’s a lot of flexibility in both of those. Sherlock suddenly leaps up and chucks a slide at the wall, growling that there’s “nothing there”. Dr. Stapleton asks what he was expecting to find. Sherlock says a drug because it HAS to be a hallucinogen but there’s no trace of anything in the sugar. John says wait, sugar? What sugar? Sherlock says he saw the hound exactly as his imagination expected it would look. He identified seven reasons why that would happen and the most likely was narcotics. Both he and Henry saw it and John didn’t even though they had all been eating and drinking the same things since Grimpen. Except for the fact that John doesn’t put sugar in his coffee. So he stole some sugar from Henry’s kitchen and put it in John’s coffee, but according to the tests he just ran there’s nothing in it. John’s like okay, so forgetting for a second that you just used me as a guinea pig in your little experiment...maybe it’s not a drug? Chrissy: I’ve discovered another way you are like Sherlock. Diandra: Oh, don’t be a drama queen. I’m not THAT bad. Sherlock says it HAS to be a drug, but he can’t figure out how they were all dosed. And now we have the introduction of a device that will be used many times on this show. In fact, it has been used many times on many shows, most overtly on “The Mentalist” where Patrick Jane, who is basically a variation on Sherlock Holmes, described it in great detail. In the commentary, Mofftiss seem to forget that Arthur Conan Doyle actually had something like it in the original stories. Sherlock talked about his brain having an “attic” where he could store things in a way that he could readily access them again. This is basically just an expansion on that: a larger space capable of storing a whole lot more detail. Anyway, Sherlock orders Dr. Stapleton to get out so he can go into his mind palace. She has no idea what that means. John mutters that Sherlock isn’t going to be doing much talking for a while, so they might as well go somewhere else. He gives Stapleton the cliff notes explanation of what a mind palace is: a memory technique that involves creating a mental map of a location, real or imaginary, that a person can walk through, leaving memories for later retrieval. Stapleton seems stuck on the idea that the location could be ANYTHING, but Sherlock called it a “palace”. “Yeah, well, he would, wouldn’t he,” John mutters. Chrissy: He always wanted to be a princess. Diandra: What does THAT mean? Chrissy: Nothing, your highness. Once he’s alone, Sherlock closes his eyes and words and images float around him that he can manipulate with his hands. He pulls down the word “liberty”. The word “pattern” appears under it, which is unhelpful. He swipes it away and it’s replaced by a Liberty London logo. He swats that aside too and the word “liberty” wobbles and tips sideways. He starts over. The word “liberty” turns to “liberté”, which is immediately followed by “égalité” and “fraternité”. Au les enfants de la patriiiie. He makes some wild, frustrated gestures and they disappear. Back to liberty, to which is added “bell” and the sound of a bell bonging in the distance. He flicks it aside and a picture of John Phillip Souza hovers in front of his face accompanied by a bar of, presumably, the Liberty Bell March. Since this isn’t going anywhere, he moves on to the word “in”, which appears on the side of the screen while possible words that start with that scroll by. Inn. India. Ingolstadt. Really? Indium, accompanied by its atomic number. He makes what I assume is supposed to be a face that conveys intent focus, but kind of looks like the “I’m going to murder somebody” Khan face from the last episode and starts going through “hounds”, like wolfhounds. Elvis Presley’s face superimposes over his with the words “hound dog”, which I take as a sign that his train of thought has derailed. And then he jolts like he’s been hit with a live wire and the swirling bullshit around his head resolves into “Liberty, Indiana, H.O.U.N.D”. Moors, night. Henry is running across an open stretch of grass, seemingly being chased by a dark blur with glowing red eyes. He has a gun in his hand and he turns to shoot at the thing, but suddenly he’s in his house and Dr. Mortimer is cowering in the corner beside the window he just shot at. He seems to come awake, looks at the gun in his hands like he has no idea how it got there and babbles apologies to the crying therapist. And we’re back at Baskerville, where Dr. Stapleton leads the boys into another part of the facility, presumably somewhere more private. Sherlock just says “John...” and John says yeah, he’s on “it” and parks himself beside the door, looking out. Sherlock asks Dr. Stapleton about Project Hound, which he assumes he read about somewhere to explain why he would have some obscure CIA experiment in an obscure town in Indiana in his mind palace. He leans over her shoulder as she searches the facility’s database on one of the computers for HOUND. It blinks “no access” and “CIA classified” and she says that’s as far as her credentials will go. John thinks there should be some sort of override. Dr. Stapleton says sure, but Major Barrymore would have it. Sherlock somehow determines that Barrymore would have sat at the desk in the corner when he came up with such a password and plops himself in the chair, scanning the immediate surroundings. He asks Stapleton how she would describe Barrymore. She says he’s a “martinet” and a “throwback”. Sherlock translates this as “old fashioned” and “traditionalist”. He concludes that he’d be unlikely to use his children’s names as passwords and he loves his job. He has Jane’s Defense Weekly, Hannibal and books by Wellington, Rommel and Churchill at eye-level. Also, a bust of Chruchill and FIVE biographies of Margaret Thatcher. Jesus Christ, I could barely get through ONE viewing of “The Iron Lady”. Does this guy ever get laid? Sherlock sees a picture he determines is Barrymore and his father, dressed in military uniform with several medals pinned to his shoulder. John sticks his head in to supply that based on the date, he must have been a veteran of the Falklands. Sherlock says definitely Thatcher then and marches over to the computer, adding some little detail about Barrymore probably thinking he’s on a first name basis with Thatcher. He types “Margaret”, but the cursor stops moving before he can finish because that’s too long. He hesitates a second, types “Maggie” and gets an “access granted” message. Chrissy: So...career soldier stick in the mud AND one of the few guys in the UK who probably doesn’t picture Old Iron Vagina when he’s trying to PREVENT an erection and/or orgasm? Bet he’s fun at parties. Diandra: You think he’d actually be invited to one? We focus on Sherlock’s face as pictures and text scroll across the screen. Key words include “suggestibility”, “conditioned terror” and “aerosol dispersal”. He lands on a picture of what looks like a group of scientists and the names of five of them superimpose on the picture. Hansen, O’Mara, Uslowski, Nader and Dyson. The names arrange themselves in that order, the first letters highlighted. For the complete morons in the audience, Stapleton notes that it spells “hound”. More text scrolls by with words like “paranoia” and “acceleration” and “cranial damage” leading to “multiple homicides”. Sherlock mutters that project HOUND was intended to test a drug that rendered its subject highly suggestible. “An anti-personnel weapon to disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus.” It was shut down in 1986 though because it had the unforeseen side effect of sending people into insane fits of homicidal rage. John asks if somebody is continuing the experiments then. Sherlock says maybe refining it. Do the names mean anything to Stapleton? Nope. Sherlock starts zooming in on the picture of the original scientists, looking for someone else who might have been there. He realizes something and suggests it would be somebody who says “cell phone” instead of “mobile” because they had spent time in America. Chrissy: And because you translate it that way every time one of them says “mobile”, I didn’t notice anything. Diandra: I didn’t even note what, specifically, he said because “cell phone” doesn’t register as unusual phrasing to me. Luckily, we flash back to Frankland giving Sherlock his number and, sure enough, he calls it a “cell number” before settling on one of the men in the picture who looks like a younger version of him. Stapleton says but Bob Frankland wouldn’t have anything to do with this because he’s a virologist. Sherlock points out that that’s what he does NOW, but he had to start somewhere. He’s never given up on the idea that the drug COULD potentially work. He leaves the computer on a close up of one of the scientists shirts, which features a ferocious hellbeast of a wolf and the letters HOUND while he pulls out his...mobile and dials Frankland. Or texts him maybe. Either way, he’s distracted when John’s phone starts ringing. It’s Dr. Mortimer, sobbing, babbling that he has to find Henry because he has a GUN and there’s no telling what he’ll do with it. John asks where she is now. She says she’s at Henry’s place, but she’s okay. John says he’ll send someone to her and hangs up, giving the abbreviated version to Sherlock. Sherlock says there’s only one place Henry would logically go now. He calls Lestrade and orders him to go to Dewer’s Hollow and bring his gun. Moors. Sherlock and John spill from the truck and run in the direction of Dewer’s Hollow. Lestrade is nowhere to be seen yet. Down in the hollow, Henry is staggering toward the spot where his dad was brutally killed by a wild animal (or something) and mutters apologies to him or his spirit or whatever. He puts the barrel of his gun in his mouth. Sherlock arrives before he can pull the trigger and yells for him to stop. Henry calls him “dad” and screams at him to stay away. John tries to calm him and convince him to put the gun down. Henry rambles that he knows what he is and what he “tried to do”. Sherlock tries a different approach: yes, Henry does know what he is, doesn’t he? Because he’s starting to remember and somebody is trying to keep him quiet. He prompts Henry to try to remember what actually happened when he was a kid. Henry screams hysterically about the “hound” getting his father and puts the gun in his mouth again. Sherlock yells at him to recall the words “Liberty” and “IN” that he saw twenty years ago. Lately he’s been starting to piece together what really happened that night and realized that his dad wasn’t killed by an animal, but a man. We flash back on his dad’s attack and the “man” has his whole head covered in an old fashioned gas mask, the eyes of which appear in Henry’s perspective to glow red. Also, the grunting noises he’s making are warped enough by the mask to sound like a snarling animal. Dad hits his head on a rock in the scuffle and the killer walks away, but not before we get a good look at the T-shirt he’s wearing, which matches the one in the picture on the computer. When he started showing signs of remembering what actually happened, somebody decided the only way to keep the whole thing from unraveling was to drive Henry crazy so nobody would believe him. John sidles over to take the gun from Henry. Lestrade arrives just then but everybody basically ignores him. Henry moans that they SAW the hound last night though. Sherlock says yes, there was a dog leaving those pawprints. They saw it as a vicious hellbeast because they had been drugged and expecting it to look like that. “But there never was any monster,” he concludes. This is punctuated by a low howl and a large animal slinking past up on the rocky cliff. Chrissy: Son of a... Henry screams hysterically and curls into a ball on the forest floor. The “monster” looks down at Sherlock, John and Lestrade with glowing red eyes and snarls. John verifies that they’re all seeing this and points out that Lestrade isn’t drugged, so...um...WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? Sherlock says it’s okay, it’s just a dog. The “dog” howls and starts down the slope of the rock wall toward them. It looks kind of like one of those werewolf things from “The Hunger Games”. Chrissy: Knowing the kind of scientists we’re dealing with...that actually makes perfect sense. Diandra: Hmm. And yet it’s still not as stupid. And then Sherlock turns to see a man in a gas mask creeping up on them. He runs over and pulls the mask off to reveal Moriarty, grinning psychotically at him. Because they are all tripping balls still. Moriarty starts growling like a dog, the image of him snapping in and out of focus and Sherlock yells that it’s not really him and wrestles with him a bit until the image shifts we see that he’s actually holding Frankland by the lapels. Frankland has a hand over his lower face. Sherlock concludes that the drug is in the fog surrounding them. The records said it was aerosolized, so the whole Hollow must be a “chemical minefield”. Because the drug apparently works very quickly, Frankland is already under its influence. He looks at the glow-eyed dog and yelps for somebody to kill it already. Lestrade fires his gun at it and misses. The dog lunges and John fires his own gun, knocking it back. It curls on the ground and whimpers. Sherlock shoves Henry toward it, insisting he look at what it really is. It’s just a regular dog that possibly has mange. Henry leaps at Frankland, screaming “you bastard” over and over. John and Lestrade pull him off as he’s demanding to know why Frankland didn’t just KILL HIM instead of letting him think he was crazy for twenty years. Sherlock says it was simple: people actually listen to dead men. They don’t listen to crazy ones, though, so he made sure Henry said enough to throw doubt on everything he ever said about his father. And he happened to have the means to booby trap the scene of the crime with pressure pads that would release the hallucinogen. Sherlock chuckles at the sheer brilliance of the plan and thanks Henry for bringing this case to his attention. “Sherlock,” John says. Sherlock turns to him and he hisses “timing.” Sherlock blinks stupidly and says “not good?” Chrissy: You know, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t shown up to domesticate you. Diandra: Look, I’ve already told you I’m not wearing the collar in public. Chrissy: That’s okay, the dog tags will suffice. Henry doesn’t care, because all of this ultimately means his dad was right: he discovered something at Baskerville and was killed for it. Before anyone can say anything (or, more importantly, because this scene has basically run its course), the dog...or possibly another animal snarls and John fires in its general direction. It runs off and so does Frankland. Everyone chases him and he runs right over some barbed wire fencing into a minefield, getting maybe twenty feet before audibly stepping on a mine. He freezes, then sighs and picks up his foot. The rest of the group are knocked back by the excessively large explosion. Morning. NotGary brings John a plate of food at one of the picnic tables outside the lodge. Sherlock arrives just behind him with two mugs, setting one down in front of John. He says that dog last night was obviously the wild stray the owners lied about having put down. John agrees with this explanation. Obviously they couldn’t bring themselves to go through with it. Chrissy: Unlike John, who shot it without any hesitation whatsoever. Diandra: Yeah, that worries me. I mean, it was wild and it was attacking and that’s totally the kind of thing Arthur Conan Doyle’s Watson would do offhandedly, but... Chrissy: It doesn’t play well with a modern audience full of dog lovers like you. Diandra: Exactly. I might be remembering why this is my least favorite episode. Chrissy: Well, that and the whole horror story thing doesn’t really work. Diandra: It’s the best they could have done with the most famous Sherlock Holmes story. This and “The Blind Banker” are good for character development and not a whole lot else. Sherlock sits beside him, sipping at his coffee and John says by the way... “what happened to me in the lab?” Sherlock gets fidgety and tries to distract him by reaching for a basket of sauce packets for him. John, as he has pointed out, isn’t stupid though and continues that he hadn’t been anywhere near the Hollows, but he was still hallucinating a giant dog. Sherlock, intently digging through sauce packets, mutters that he must have been dosed somewhere else. He babbles that the pipes in the lab were pretty ancient looking and probably leaked. John is like yeah, but YOU thought it was in the sugar. Sherlock frowns at him, checks his watch and starts babbling about a train leaving in half an hour and they’d better hurry. Chrissy: Wow. You are REALLY bad at this. Diandra: I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, look! A thing! John groans and says Sherlock locked him in the lab, didn’t he? Sherlock gives up all attempts at denial and admits it was an experiment. “An experiment,” John yelps and Sherlock tries to shush him. John growls that he was fucking TERRIFIED. Sherlock says he put the sugar in John’s coffee thinking that’s where the drug was and arranged the little trap in the lab with Barrymore. We get a little flash of him playing growling noises on the sound system from the security room, watching John dart around the lab frantically and encouraging John over the phone to describe what he’s seeing. Because this apparently isn’t bad enough, he adds that he already knew the effect the drug had on his own “superior mind”, so he needed to know what it would do to an “average one”. Chrissy: That’s it. You and your rocket are on your own for the foreseeable future. John stares straight ahead, hands tightening on his silverware, probably resisting the urge to stab Sherlock with his fork, and Sherlock says John knows what he means. Diandra: I belittle because I love. Chrissy: I’m tempted to quote Irene here and say that I could make you beg for mercy twice right now, but you wouldn’t enjoy my version. Diandra: I wouldn’t be so sure of that. John takes a hostile bite of food and says but the drug wasn’t actually IN the sugar. Sherlock says yeah, he didn’t know John had already been exposed to the drug out at the Hollow. John concludes that he was wrong. Sherlock says no, he wasn’t. John snaps that yes, he really was. Sherlock shrugs it off, saying it won’t happen again. John asks if the drug has any long term effects. Sherlock says they’ll all be fine once they “excrete” it. Chrissy: Thanks for that image. Lovely. John mutters that he probably already took care of that. Chrissy: See aforementioned garden hose problem. Sherlock sees Gary pouring coffee for some women over by the lodge, puts his cup down and stands. John asks where he thinks he’s going. Sherlock says he needs to see a man about a dog and stalks over to Gary. Chrissy: So after that initial burst of anger, John seems to have taken that strangely well. Diandra: I think he’s accepted that this is just how Sherlock IS and there are limits to what John can do about it. Expanding on the analogy I made earlier: he is like a puppy. John can try to socialize him and teach him proper behavior, but he can’t be TOO mad at him for occasionally chewing on stuff and piddling on the floor because he is still a puppy. Chrissy: I’m sorry, I understand what you’re saying, but now I have a mental picture of Sherlock on a leash held by John in military uniform. Diandra: Of course you do. Chrissy: That plot bunny’s free, by the way. Elsewhere, Mycroft opens a door to a small room and says “all right, let him go.” Some guards escort Moriarty out of the room. One guy stays behind to note the way Moriarty spent however long he was in there writing “Sherlock” on every panel of wall in the room and backwards on the one-way mirror. What he did all this writing WITH isn’t really clear. Chrissy: As long as it’s not bodily fluids, we’re okay. The guard leaves the room and slams the door and we’re in the closing credits. Chrissy: Obvious segue to the next episode is obvious. Diandra: Yep. And because I neglected to mention it earlier, I will leave you with this bit of dialogue from the original Arthur Conan Doyle “Hound of the Baskervilles” story: “I have a hunting crop.” “We must close on him rapidly, for he is said to be a desperate fellow. We shall take him by surprise and have him at our mercy before he can resist.” “I say, Watson, what would Holmes say to this?” Chrissy: And on that note: always remember to take the time to go through proper ignition sequence before launching your rocket. Diandra: Ugh. I promise we will try to behave ourselves better in the next episode. Chrissy: Speak for yourself. I make no such promise.