The figure rushed over to Mr. Watson and grabbed his shoulders and shook him. He screamed and pushed and clawed at the person, but they didn’t budge. I rushed over and flipped the hood off revealing a young man with messy black hair. At this, Warner screamed even louder and ran to the corner of the room. Reaching into his coat he brandished a short blade and waved it at us.

“BACK BACK all of you!” he said with spittle flying from his mouth. His eyes were bulging from his sockets and he was panting heavily. The young man dashed over to Mr. Watson and gripped his wrist, wrenching the knife from his grip.

“It’s me sir! Henry, your servant, do you remember me? You ran away from the house and I’ve been all over searching over for you,” said the young man.

“Searching all over for me, did you say? Searching to KILL ME!?,” cried Watson in a frayed voice. “I won’t have it Henry, take my money, take my land, but don’t take my life.” Turning towards me now, with uncontrolled rage in his eyes. “And you! I bet you were in on this, making me think you were some genius detective when all you are is a fraud!!!”

SLAP

I had only blinked briefly but out of nowhere my daughter had come out of the room and now stood over Mr. Watson who was now on the floor shaking. She was shaking and her breathing was loud and heavy. In the stillness of the room, everything she said was heard, down to the enunciation of her words.

“Don’t ever. Ever call my father a fraud, you little fat man. My father takes up your case when no one else will and you call him a fraud? Scum like you should just scuttle back to the garbage and rot.”

Surprised, I’m in shock for a couple of seconds before snapping back to reality. Slowly walking over, so as not to make any sudden motion, I put my hand on her shoulder. At my touch her muscles relaxed and she turned back towards me with a smile. The smile was unnerving, to say the least, considering the situation. I’m not exactly sure what brought on the cold shiver down my back. Whether it was that unnatural smile or the way she so ruthlessly attacked Mr. Watson. I shook my head and cleared my thoughts so as not to show it on my face.

Turning now to the servant who still stood watching Mr. Watson with mixed emotions of fear, pity and disgust, I gestured towards the door.

“If possible could you take me to your masters residence? There’s a few things there that I’d like to check up on.”

The servant gave me an awkward little bow and glanced back nervously at Mr. Watson. He tilted his head slightly in my daughter's direction and mouthed the words, Will she be ok with him? I nodded my head discreetly and was beginning to move towards the door when Mr. Watson began to shout at me.

“Where are you going with that killer James? Are you perhaps going back to rob me of what possessions I have left? I dare say that is quite a bold move, especially considering me being right here.”

I laughed slightly and shook my head. “Nothing that extraordinary Mr. Watson I’m afraid, I’m just going to check the crime scene for any clues. I wouldn’t dare do anything behind your back sir.”

“W-well if I believe you’re telling me the truth, are you really going to leave me here with her!? She’s going to choke me the moment you walk out that door.”

“Nothing bad will happen to you Mr. Watson, I assure you. You’re in good hands with my daughter, just try not to make fun of me ok? Now Henry, shall we?”

Motioning for him to leave first I wave at my daughter and follow Henry outside. It seemed that I had spent more time than I had thought calming Mr. Watson down. The sun was now fully out and blazing down on me with its scorching heat. Outside the noise had doubled. No. Tripled in volume. The streets were now teeming with people of various ages and sizes. We were all packed in together, jostling and pushing like fish in a net. The feeling was overwhelming and I felt like I was being crushed from all sides. A sharp snap jolted me back into reality and I see Henry in front of me snapping his fingers.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Are you alright sir? You seemed to be a bit fazed there.”

Shaking my head I gave him a thumbs up and followed him into the crowd. After being shocked out of the blurriness the day had taken on a new perspective. In fact, I was brimming with energy, the excitement of the case had caught up I suppose. Henry began to lead me through an unfamiliar part of town. Here the houses were three, even four stories high and they seemed to loom over me. I myself have never entered a house more than two floors high and even that was grand for my standards.

After walking through a relatively empty street, we arrived at the end of the street. We stood in front of what seemed to be a previously four story, now three after what I assume is faulty construction. Just the front of the house gave off an ominous feel that made me shiver. Pushing open the splintered door, Henry gestured for me to follow him. Stepping into the musty front parlor, I wrinkled my nose and tried not to show too much on my face.

The lights were off and the floors were covered in a light coat of dust, telling me that the Watsons hadn’t had guests in quite a while. To my left, a grand sloping staircase made its way to the upper floors. On my right, there was a drawing room that held a single table and chair, along with some papers. The whole thing felt surreal, as if I was stepping into a long deserted house. I can see why no one else would take up his case, they probably thought he was crazy.

Coughing a little, I followed Henry up the old wooden stairs. They creaked loudly even under my light tread. The second floor was empty save for the bedrooms and a single bathroom. I let myself be led into the room furthest from the stairs. Here the smell of blood began its invasion into my nostrils.

The body laid in the middle of the room, untouched and surrounded by a pool of blood. The murder weapon was nowhere to be seen. Turning now to Henry I ask him, “Were you up here when the murder happened?”

He shook his head and said, “No sir, I was downstairs preparing breakfast for the master and the missus. I heard the missus screaming so I rushed upstairs and someone passed by me on the way up. I didn’t get a glance at them as my mind was preoccupied. Shortly after I entered the room, the master ran in too and saw me standing over the body. You can imagine how he would’ve thought it was I who killed her.”

Walking over to the body now, I lean in for a closer look at the wound. It appeared to be a fairly shallow cut, but the incision was clean and fast. This was by no means the killer’s first kill. At the very least, they had seen countless deaths similar to this one. They did have the humanity however to make it clean, but why they killed Mrs. Watson was beyond me at the moment. Rotating now back towards the stairs, I examine the floorboards by the door. Running my fingers along the relatively smooth wood, I deduce that the killer had to have caught Mrs. Watson off guard.

Going back to the body now, I kneel down and poke around looking for any signs the killer may have left behind. Finding nothing, I straighten up and head back down the stairs to the bottom floor. Trudging over to the kitchen now, I make a beeline for the stove and touch it. Cold. Something isn’t right, I clearly remember Henry telling me he was making breakfast. The stove was stone cold and even a few seconds of heat would’ve meant it being cool at most.

“Henry? Are you here?’

“Coming sir.”

“Let me see your hands.”

I picked up his right hand and examined it for any burns or calluses. From what I could see, his hand wasn’t worn from work in the slightest. There was no rough skin to suggest any sort of manual labor and no cuts or bruises to suggest any cooking. My gut is telling me that Henry isn’t everything he said was. I make sure to think over my words carefully before I speak to him.

“So… Henry, you said you were cooking correct? Why is it that I’m looking at your hands and I’m noticing no signs of work at all?”

“Well sir, we have other servants to take on manual labor. I simply oversee the running of the house and other such tasks. As for the cooking situation, you see there is this new product that my master has been craving lately. It’s this thing called canned food, if you can believe it. I just need to open the can and there’s food right there ready to be served. It sounds like the devil’s work, I know, but it is a thing. I can even show you sir.”

Henry led me over to the garbage can and pointed at a tin can lying at the bottom. I was turning away when a glint caught the corner of my eye. I turned back and picked up the can. There was a red liquid smeared on the sharp lid and it looked suspiciously like blood.

“And you were serving your master, tomato soup, correct?”

“No no sir, chicken soup.”

“What color is chicken soup, may I ask?”

A sort of panic flashed over Henry’s eyes almost fast enough that I didn’t catch it. He gave a slight pause before replying.

“A sort of… grayish white color, similar to fog I’d say.”