DETECTIVE OF LONDON: A KILLER WITHOUT A SOUL

Chapter Four

You are finally back outside and take in everything in. The old woman is still sitting there looking at you with a face of frustration. And, as you pass her desk, she then suddenly blurts out, "SIR! ARE YOU GOING TO GET A ROOM OR NOT?!" Her voice was filled with rage and devastation, but you turn to her and give her a cold stare that makes her look of frustration turn into a look of fear, and she just fell back from her stool onto the floor. You didn't think much would come if you helped her, so you continued your treck towards Smith, who was probably either waiting outside for you, or he was already trying to make his way to the police station. When you do get outside, you find that Smith is still waiting for you, and he stares into London's beautiful sky that still had the sun out for now.
You come up to him and say, "Well dear friend, if I'm correct, carriages don't show up by just standing there like a statue." You the chuckle a laugh in which seemingly made the situation even worse since Smith then turns to you and gives you a begrudged face, and sure enough, you calm down, so
your friend doesn't start a fight. "But, if you do want a ride, then you've come to the right place, my
good old chap!" You say this with a jolly tone that lifts the frustration from Smith's mind. You then
whistle a fair and delightful tune, and all of the sudden, from the streets ally ways, comes the carriage
that your butler drives and it stops right in front of you with the door popping right open all of a sudden. You wait for Smith's response, and he then says,
"If you think that is going to surprise me, then you have no idea of what my personality is like." His words are harsh, but you brush them off and head into the carriage with Smith coming in next and then the door suddenly shutting by itself, and off you went on this new adventure to capture this beast, and save London from another problem once more.

The carriage passes along the streets with a mindful speed, and the butler is keeping a lookout for
people. Minutes pass without a talk or even a whisper in the carriage, then the butler suddenly breaks the silence by asking, "Sir, you never really mentioned where you want me to take you." You then reply, saying, "We must head to the main police station, and with speed, for we have no a moment to waste!" Your voice is in a quickened tone, and the butler takes heed of it for in a matter of seconds, you are suddenly pushed back to the cushion of the carriage seat as your butler quickens the horses pace and the carriage goes jolting down the street. People duck and run, and many warn each other about your speeding carriage. You yourself are afraid that the butler might crash into someone, and they might die. Luckily, your butler manages to dodge all the people the whole way there. And for all that journey there, you just thought of the consequences if you crash into somebody, so much so
that you didn't even realize that you were at your destination. You were sweating and had to be tapped on the shoulder to get out of your trance. And when you do, you see your butler wiping your brow from the sweat and your friends hand on your shoulder. "It's all right, dear friend," Smith says with a calming voice, "We have arrived at the main police station. All you have to do is come outside."
You listen to Smith's words and get out of the carriage, and what you see astonished you.
The station was a gigantic brick house with at least four levels from your perspective. There are
arches scattered all around as entryways to the main building with smaller buildings to the side of
the building with lamps near them also scattered around the streets, and windows and poster boards were all over the walls, showing the police either light or information posted on the wall daily. And, a roof on the top of what seems to be an endless leveled building has dark grey shingles that are curved
to the likeness of the waves of the sea and were patterned in a square pattern that covers the building in a sea of grey waves. You follow Smith as he walks through one of the arches that has windows
on the walls it covers. On the left window, you see a dark room that is only lit up by candlelight that shines the face of a bearded man that was writing on a piece of parchment with an inked quill and seemed to be very busy since he doesn't pay any attention to you. On your right, you see
a window that is lit with many candles that hang from above from chandelier made out of iron carvened with patterns of beauty and passion, and through the light of the candles, you can see a printing press made out of wood, and you can see police men running here and there with pieces of parchment and were working the press like a furnace. You continued your way until you arrived right at a great wooden door that had an iron handle. To your left, you see a pathway that leads a few meters until it stops right at a smaller wooden door that has a small window. There are some windows on the walls that make the hallway to this passage way, and some small plants are scattered around. This is the same for the right side, but there are some officers talking to each other here.
Smith then knocks on the giant door. The sound rings out for a bit in your ears, and then, a small peak hole opens up to reveal a pair of eyes, a sharpened nose, and a lovely mustache.
"What is the meaning of this?!" The officer seemed annoyed to have visitors at his tea time. "We are just here to solve a mystery." Smith's last three words had a tone of a secret pass code, and you then suddenly see that the officer's eyes widen, and then the small peek hole closes, and a few seconds later the main door opens and out comes the officer from before. "What is your name?" the officer asks us,
"My name is Smith, and this is my detective friend," You then cut him off before he could say your real name, "Just call me, detective." Your response makes a surprised look on the officer's face, "Oh my, are you the famous detective of London who goes out solving cases and mysterious happenings that happen in London?" You then reply, "Yes."
"Are you the one who people refer to as the son of Sherlock Homes!?" You reply to him another."Yes!"
"Then thank you for receiving my letter!" You look at him with a confused look on your face,
"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir. I never got to ask for your name." You wait for the reply, and the officer then said, "Well then, good detective, my name is Officer Jones."