The Case of The Colourful Murders

122A Baker Street

                                                   122A Baker Street

As crazy as it might sound, Jonathan really was, the next day, at 12'O clock noon, on his way to Baker Street. What was the flat number? Ah, 122A. The humour of the situation made Jonathan want to laugh. 122A? 221B? And then there was this Henderson guy.

He basically saw Jonathan and told him his life history. He must've deduced him like Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, and his attitude matched that of Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock. So, who was this guy really? An actual consulting detective? Or was he just some really observant guy who was a lot into theatrics and had watched Sherlock and was some cosplayer? Maybe all he came to know about Jonathan was from some customer he might have been talking to. But then again, his employer didn't know even one of the many problems of his life that Stiles revealed, leave alone customers.

He decided not to stress his mind too much. He would come to know what his profession was, really, when they would meet again.

As his taxi came to a halt and he paid up, getting out of the cab, he found Stiles Henderson standing in front of the flat. Frankly, Jonathan didn't want to waste time and was all too glad that Henderson was already there. He walked up to Henderson, who was a good thirty or so cm taller than himself, maybe about 182 cm or 185 cm.

They both shook hands, and Jonathan said, "Let's go inside, Mr. Henderson."

"Sure Mr. Whittemore, and just call me Stiles."

"Call me Jonathan, then."

Stiles knocked on the door, and a slightly plump, sweet old lady opened the door. Jonathan wondered if she was called 'Mrs. Hudson' by any chance.

"Mrs. Albright, this is Jonathan Whittemore. Jonathan, this is Mrs. Albright. She is my mother's best friend, and was there for me when... well, when my mother passed away. Anyways, let's move inside."

Jonathan felt sorry for Stiles. He followed them both into the flat.

The flat looked cozy, and it gave a feeling like... home. Jonathan could not explain why it did, since he had never even stepped foot in this place before, but it just felt right. There were two couches in the drawing room, placed next to a fireplace, facing each other. The drawing room was large enough to have a kitchen and a dining table, with chairs of course. On moving further inside, the hallway branched into two rooms next to each other.

He almost expected a skull to be present on the mantelpiece, but it wasn't there.

"Why don't you boys sit down? Also, Stiles, is Jonathan some friend of yours?" asked Mrs. Albright.

"Not exactly. We met yesterday, I found out he needs a flatmate, and from today we'll share a flat", replied Stiles, smiling. Jonathan was annoyed. Why did this Stiles guy think he could just speak on behalf of Jonathan without even asking him? For all Jonathan knew, he could be a psychopathic serial killer.

"Well, it's good then that you found a flatmate. Do move in now, Stiles. You don't know how horribly bored I am when you are not here with your childish antics", said Mrs. Albright, smiling."Did you just imply that I'm childish?"