Detective on Baker Street

First: Waves

"There's a hurricane moving along the coast. Some people south of us have already lost power," Rickey says as he sorts through some canned foods. We stand in a small kitchen with dark gray counter tops and white cabinets. The pale green tile is cold under my bare feet, and I can see dark clouds through the window above the sink.

"Hopefully that's as destructive as it will get," I mutter, zipping up the duffel bag that holds blankets, extra clothes, and the like. Rickey has all of the food in a large backpack on the counter.

"Do you have flashlights?" he asks, squeezing past me out into the sitting room.

"No, but there might be some upstairs in the nightstand." I hear his footsteps go up the stairs. Then I walk into the other room, which has tall white walls and a shiny wood floor. Everything in the townhouse is a light color. There is no furniture, and wind from the open window pushes on the long sheer curtains.

A soft purple light is all that illuminates the room. I hear a rumble of thunder; it appears to echo around the empty room.

"Rickey," I call up the stairs. His head pokes from around the corner.

"Yep?"

"We need to hurry up and get over to Baker Street..." He just nods and disappears back down the hallway.