Shots

Chapter One - Sherlocked - Part One

       You had no idea what shocked you more, the fact that the police were here already or the fact that suddenly a dead man was sitting across the table from you. Red, white, and blue lights flashed and flooded the dark room with color and cloaked the dead man. Frightened you tried to get up and out of your chair but, to no avail. Your eyes cast down to the rope securing your wrists to the arms of the chair. Your feet were also tied down so there wasn’t any use to try and kick about either.

            Realizing your immobility, you take in your surroundings. The decaying walls, spider webs, and shattered windows met your gaze. The old building and table and chairs creaked with every breath you took. It felt as if one more gasp of fear would cause the building to collapse where it stood. Your gaze, whether you liked it or not, fell upon the gentlemen slumped over across the table. He looked to be in his mid-50s and was very unkempt. He was unshaven, unwashed, and just over all dirty. He was in need of a good washing but, that was obsolete now.

            Your ears twitched as you faintly heard men outside shout over the roaring sirens of police cars. You heard them shout about guns, kidnapping, death, and a man they referred to as “He.”

            “Is He coming,” “Where is He.” And “He doesn’t need to be here,” was called about between some people below. Before you knew it, you heard the door burst open a few floors below and feet rushing up the stairs only to slow down just down the hall from your room. You remained quiet as the floor’s creaking grew closer. There was a sound right outside the door and you sat up straight and it flown open as police men flooded in with their guns. As the final one came in, a woman with obvious authority over the others, two men came in dressed differently from the rest. One man was in a blue tyvec suit putting on gloves and the other in a long overcoat over some pretty casual clothing.

            It took the police a moment to realize you were alive and tend to you. The man in the over coat came over to look at your face. You produced a weak smile for him and he returned the gesture. His brown eyes sparkled and his grey hair glowed as the lights continued to flash furiously outside.

             “Anderson,” he called, “Please tend to her. The others will check the scene.” He pulled away but not before you could read his badge. DI Lestrade. He was London’s very own Detective Inspector Lestrade. You have heard of him, he was famed for his bravery and the copious amount of crimes he had taken up and solved.

            The man named Anderson approached you and immediately pulled out and flipped a switchblade. Your eyes widened with fear as the shiny metal flashed. Anderson gave a chuckled and kneeled down at your right side. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He smiled. And carefully hunched down and sawed at the ropes at your feet. The numbing grasp on your ankles subsided and you stretched your legs out a little. It was like when you first wake up in the morning, that morning stretch feels great. This was like that, refreshing and wonderful.

              Anderson popped his head back up from under the table and asked, “Feel better?” You tried to respond but a simple nod was all you could muster. He now brought the blade to your wrist and told you to remain very still. He didn’t want to cut your wrist. You’ve been through too much to have to worry about this now. Now that he was closer, you got a better look at his face. Anderson had soft bluish-grey eyes, a rather prominent nose, and brown hair with longer bangs parted in the front down the middle. He had just finished freeing you when the woman officer from earlier arrived. She had lots of brown hair and dark eyes. “We should get her outside where it’s lighter to check for wounds and take samples.” She said.

            “Agreed Sergeant Donovan,” He said, “It may be midnight but there are enough lights out there to mistake it for a sunny day.”