Chapter One: An Unexpected Mystery to Solve
Rain drizzled down the window, quietly, as the night drew on. Arthur Kirkland was sitting in his favorite chair, next to his fireplace, roaring in life, feet up on an ottoman and reading his favorite book, Sherluck Jones. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door.
"Who could that be at this dreadful hour?" he wondered out loud as he marked and put down the book, and stood up. He walked into the hall, tying his robe around his waist. The knocking continued, "Yes! Yes! I'm coming, Man!" Arthur tried smoothing out the wrinkles in his robe, trying to look presentable in his night robe. He took a breath and his hand rested on the door knob. But the knocking had stopped. "That's strange…" Arthur opened the door and a gust of wind and rain blew in and the man who had been knocking at the door fell to the floor, face-first, dead! His wounds were horrible and his blood was now on the carpet.
"…" Arthur stood there, in shock and sorrow. "Poor Chap. I should've opened the blasted door sooner!"
Police, the Scotland Yard, and K-9 units surrounded Arthur's house. Arthur stood outside, hugging himself to stay warm, in the rain. Yellow crime scene tape kept curious onlookers out. As they took pictures and samples of the crime scene, Arthur was asked several questions.
"Did you know the man?" a detective asked him.
"No, I'm afraid not," he answered. "I wanted to help him, but I suppose it was already too late."
The detective took notes as he answered. "And why do you think he came to you? Some connection?"
"I already told you," Arthur complained, "I don't know. Perhaps my house was closer. The poor man needed my help! The hospital's in town! He couldn't make it with his wounds!"
"Is there anyone else who lives in the house?" he asked.
"Well," Arthur thought. "My servant is on holiday. He won't be back until tomorrow evening."
"Very well," the detective replied. He flipped his note pad closed and moved on.
Arthur sighed. There had been a murder and he didn't know what to do. Suddenly, he had a déjà vu moment. This was in that blasted book he had been reading just an hour ago! Sherluck woke up from falling asleep on his couch from a rude knocking. The rain was falling harder, though, but everything else was accurate. Sherluck opened the door and a stranger fell to his marble floor, blood staining the carpet. Sherluck didn't know the man, and it turned out to be a murder.
But the murderer was still on the loose, and so far in the series, he hadn't been caught. Not even Sherluck, in all his wisdom, just couldn't catch the murderer. The murderer always had a part in each book, even if the main crime wasn't committed by him. He'd always shown up in inconvenient times and caused more trouble for the protagonist. He was called, "X" because Sherluck didn't know his true identity. He was also named, "X" for other reasons. Either by the way he always killed or because Sherluck had found his "Bingo Book" in which he collected newspaper articles and photographs of his next victim, crossing out their page, as if tallying his killings. The man, or woman, was obsessed with killing, or maybe killing gave them some sick pleasure? Sherluck had only once saved one of them because the next victim wasn't yet crossed out, but for how long could he protect her? The next victim on "X"'s list was his fiancée, Victoria…
Arthur gulped. He was now involved in a crime. He wasn't Sherluck. He didn't want anything more than just reading the stories, not being part of them! He sighed deeply. This was going to be a long night, and it was only 10 p.m.
