an alternate ending to the hound of the Baskervilles?
Answers
With love khushman
In the final chapters of The Hound of the Baskervilles, a mystery novel by Sir Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes and his assistant John Watson (SPOILER ALERT!) lure a gigantic hound out of hiding and shoot it, saving the life of Sir Henry Baskerville. However, what would happen if Sherlock and Watson had not outsmarted Mr Stapleton, the owner of the vicious hound? Allow me to invent a new climax to the story.
“Hist!” cried Holmes, and I heard the sharp click of a cocking pistol. “Look out! It’s coming!”…
[Excerpt From: Arthur Conan Doyle. “The Hound of the Baskervilles.”]
Hearing his words, Lestrade and I turned around sharply and cocked our weapons. Sir Henry had described to me in detail what this alleged ‘hound’ was like. However, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. The word hound couldn’t even begin to describe this beast, nothing could. Its back arched and its head hung low, stalking its prey. Drool dripped from its thin, black sneer as it let out a heart-stoppingly low growl.
The three of us could hear Sir Henry’s screams as he sprinted across the moor. I knew from the beginning that it was a horrible idea to use him as bait, but it was the best option.
Between the trees we crept trying to angle our firearms directly at the chest of the hound. The hound was getting dangerously close to Sir Henry now, so Sherlock took his chances and fired. The bullet zoomed towards the heart of the enemy, only to ricochet off of a rock cluster.
Hearing the noise the hound stopped in its tracks searching from the source of the bullet. My stomach flew up into my throat as its fiery eyes scanned the moor. Sherlock ducked behind a tree in an attempt to conceal himself, but it was too late; the hound had already spotted him.
Faster than the speed of light itself, the hound lurched in Sherlock’s direction. Lestrade and I sprinted until we were shielded by the nearest boulder. I had no idea where Sherlock went, and I couldn’t look behind me. BOOM! BOOM! I heard Sherlock fire two rounds at the hound. Before I had an opportunity to experience relief, I heard another low growl.
Lestrade and I peeked around the large stone to see what was occurring. Sherlock was attempting to scale a pine tree, with speed I had never seen from a human, and shoot the hound at the same time. Suddenly, I didn’t hear anymore rounds being fired. Soon after that was when I saw the hound lying limp on the ground. However, I also saw Sherlock lying limp next to it. I let out a small gasp and Lestrade did the same. We dashed towards his body, and I felt for his pulse with my three middle fingers. Tears began to well up in my eyes and drip on to the dewy lawn.
“You can go and arrest Stapleton, now,” I whimpered as I clutched my friend’s cold, dead hand.
Answer:
Explanation:
“Hist!” cried Holmes, and I heard the sharp click of a cocking pistol. “Look out! It’s coming!”…
[Excerpt From: Arthur Conan Doyle. “The Hound of the Baskervilles.”]
Hearing his words, Lestrade and I turned around sharply and cocked our weapons. Sir Henry had described to me in detail what this alleged ‘hound’ was like. However, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. The word hound couldn’t even begin to describe this beast, nothing could. Its back arched and its head hung low, stalking its prey. Drool dripped from its thin, black sneer as it let out a heart-stoppingly low growl.
The three of us could hear Sir Henry’s screams as he sprinted across the moor. I knew from the beginning that it was a horrible idea to use him as bait, but it was the best option.
Between the trees we crept trying to angle our firearms directly at the chest of the hound. The hound was getting dangerously close to Sir Henry now, so Sherlock took his chances and fired. The bullet zoomed towards the heart of the enemy, only to ricochet off of a rock cluster.
Hearing the noise the hound stopped in its tracks searching from the source of the bullet. My stomach flew up into my throat as its fiery eyes scanned the moor. Sherlock ducked behind a tree in an attempt to conceal himself, but it was too late; the hound had already spotted him.
Faster than the speed of light itself, the hound lurched in Sherlock’s direction. Lestrade and I sprinted until we were shielded by the nearest boulder. I had no idea where Sherlock went, and I couldn’t look behind me. BOOM! BOOM! I heard Sherlock fire two rounds at the hound. Before I had an opportunity to experience relief, I heard another low growl.
Lestrade and I peeked around the large stone to see what was occurring. Sherlock was attempting to scale a pine tree, with speed I had never seen from a human, and shoot the hound at the same time. Suddenly, I didn’t hear anymore rounds being fired. Soon after that was when I saw the hound lying limp on the ground. However, I also saw Sherlock lying limp next to it. I let out a small gasp and Lestrade did the same. We dashed towards his body, and I felt for his pulse with my three middle fingers. Tears began to well up in my eyes and drip on to the dewy lawn.
“You can go and arrest Stapleton, now,” I whimpered as I clutched my friend’s cold, dead hand.