Sherlock stood at the edge of the porch surveying the surrounding landscape. The cabin rested on a small embankment about fifty feet from a rushing river. He went into his mind palace and pulled up the few maps that he had studied on the plane trip over. This must be the 92 mile long Moyie River that snakes its way through North Idaho and up to British Columbia. Western White Pines, Bull Pines and scattered Cedars meshed into browns and mixtures of India and Hunter greens. It smelled of rotting wood amidst moist and mossy earth.
He closed his eyes and filed away this specific scent. It was something new for his odor palette. He glanced at the front door knowing he could pick the lock in under a minute. Wood was stacked three and a half feet high to the left of the door. A splitting maul rested against the side of the stack. He contemplated grabbing it in case there were any surprises inside. He left it. No one had been there for at least a week. Pine needles and debris had blown onto the porch and accumulated. There was no evidence of foot travel, and this was the only way in and out of the cabin. Windows were abnormally small, definitely not up to code.
Once inside, Sherlock took stock of the interior. The front room merged living and dining areas with a small laminated counter serving as a partition. The kitchen was a mere alcove of the dining room with a gas cook stove and small refrigerator separated by more counter and oak cabinets. The cabinets were a new addition and looked severely out of place in this rustic cabin. A narrow hallway led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms at the back of the house. A quick inspection did not reveal anything important. Sherlock knew what he really sought after would not be in plain sight, and as he opened the door to the basement another new scent wafted through the air.
It had a tinge of chemical with more rotting something and wet earth. He flicked on the light switch to the right of the stairs. He was rewarded with a soft glow. The basement had a dirt floor and the cement foundation walls were crumbling in places. Water pipes hung from the ceiling and wiring dangled between floorboards. A few empty crates were stacked against the far wall. Sherlock pulled them away only to reveal more crumbling concrete. The pattern of the cracks in the wall caught his eye and a smile spread across his face. A few pushes on different parts of the wall and a rumbling began. A section of the concrete wall slowly began to swing outward revealing a long dark passageway. Removing his flashlight, he stepped into the tunnel knowing that he would not find anything good.
Author's Note: Another really short chapter, but I did not want to get too rusty even though I have another job I am currently doing online besides teaching during the day. I hope to write a couple longer chapters this coming weekend. Fair warning-there will be a plot twist soon. I am just giddy thinking about it. Please let me know your thoughts on the story. Commentary motivates me more than anything. Thanks!