Sherlock Holmes and The Return of The Ripper

♧ ◀Chapter 8 ▶♧

Of course, we went immediately to investigate the bloody shed. I texted Sherlock, letting him know what had happened, then looked over at the flustered man who owned the shed.
"Have you called the police?" I asked.
"Yes." He nodded, rocking back and forth slowly. "Yes, I called the police . . . They'll know what to do . . . Everything will be fine, j-just fine."
I patted him on the back, guiding him to a chair. "Kelsie, stay here with him." I said, knowing her calm, mature presence would calm the man enormously.
"Right." She nodded.
"We need to get there before the police arrive." I told the children sotto voce.
"Gotcha." Samantha nodded. "We need his address."
"Easy." Liam slipped his hands into the man's pockets as gently as a breeze. A moment later, the man's wallet was in his jacket, and we were out of there.
Flicking through some cards, Liam announced, "Strickland Street." He typed the information into Google on his phone. "That's on the --"
"-- outskirts of town, yes." Sherlock hurried from the direction of the hotel towards us, his coat wrapped snugly around himself.
"Time is of the essence. We need to leave." His gaze ran over the group. "Where's Kelsie?"
"She's with -- " I tried to say, but Sherlock cut me off.
"No time, talk and walk." He hurried along Main Street, the rest of us struggling to keep up with his lengthy strides.
"She's with the owner of the shed, because he's probably having a nervous breakdown." I responded.
"Even better. He won't be going anywhere near the scene of interest for a while." Sherlow grinned, satisfied. "This way, even if the police get there first or we have to leave, we'll be able to come back at our leisure."
We hurried through the quiet town, hitting Strickland Street as soon as we were out of downtown.  It started as a two-laned, paved road, but gradually dwindled into a 1.5-laned dirt road.
Sherlock was continually looking around anxiously, and his fidgeting finally got on my nerves so much l hissed, "Sherlock!"
  "What?" He asked, sounding distracted and annoyed.
"Stop . . . Fidgeting! What are you even nervous about?"
"He called the police, and it's a one-lane road. If they come along, we'll be seen." He snapped back. "Not only that, but it's been at least eight minutes since he supposedly called 9-1-1. I know their response times aren't the best, but the town isn't huge. Why haven't we heard anything-"
"Kelsie!" Liam yelled.
"I was a fool!" Sherlock gasped, stopping suddenly. "We need to get back, right now!"
"Why?" I cried, my mind struggling to keep up with the detective's and the children. "What happened?"
"The man never really called the police." Sherlock called, turning around and breaking into a sprint. "He was lying to us! And now he's got Kelsie!"