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Sherlock Holmes 221B Baker Street, London

24 October, 1889 Mycroft Holmes 13 Pall Mall Street, London

Dear Mycroft Holmes, How have you been my dear Brother? I am deeply sorry I have not written to you lately. I have been busy in a very complex case. I am writing you today to tell you about an event that occurred this last week during my investigations. However, you may need some background information first. The complex case I speak of has to do with a family, and a century old legend. A friend of the family, Dr. James Mortimer brought the problem to be. The legend states that the Baskerville family is cursed by an ancestor by the name of Hugo Baskerville. He had his throat ripped out, and ever since the family has been haunted by a giant, fierce and supernatural hound. Dr. Mortimer stated that Sir Charles Baskerville had died of a heart attack, and that he observed footprints a few feet away that could only be the footprints of a hound. Dr. Watson and I spent almost two months on this case, but finally concluded that the hound that caused Sir Charles death belonged to the neighbor, Jack Stapleton. He used it in an attempt to take over the estate of Baskerville Hall because he was secretly related to the Baskervilles. I would like to tell you how I discovered and killed this large beast. It was the 19th of October when the whole plan went down. In the morning, I told Sir Henry that Watson and I would be departing for London. I instructed the young baronet to continue with his plans to have dinner with the Stapletons, and that he should walk home. While he thought we were in London, Watson and I tied the loose ends of our case, and met our friend Investigator Lestrade at the train station. When it was time for our friend to depart from dinner, we hid in the moor and waited. A few minutes later, we saw a giant hound headed towards Sir Henry. My dear Mycroft, let me tell you about this horrifying creature. It was quite large and coal black in color. Fire burst from its mouth, and its body was outlined in flames. In its eyes you could see a glare of hunger. The creature was frightening. Not in my darkest nightmares could I ever have dreamed such a creature. The three of us froze briefly, but Watson and I both fired our revolvers. Both of us missed the shot, and I took off running. I emptied my revolver on the hound and finally the giant beast fell. It came within a few feet of Sir Henry, and the poor lads nerves are shaken, but no longer will he have to worry about the legend that haunted his family. Mr. Stapleton was found dead later that night. My dear sibling, it was one of the most exhilarating nights of my life. I hope you enjoyed this account of events. Talk to you soon.

Sincerely,

Sherlock Holmes