Chapter 2

I leaned forward, placing my face closer to the screen, observing the results I got from just searching the name Sherlock Holmes. I found pages upon pages of information on this man.

He was known as the "Best detective" or "Greatest detective the world has ever seen," Things like that. He seemed to look quite normal. His hair a brown looking color, and it was very curly.

His face was quite narrow and he did seem to have a very distinguished look. Nothing I've ever seen before. This was getting interesting. I brushed my hand through my hair causing it to fray and become messy.

Realizing I was getting off track, I quickly returned my attention to the task at hand. To find out how to contact him (if need be) I just had to do a bit more digging.

Apparently, he didn't seem to think that someone like me would try to find him. He had an entire website on him and how "Good" he was. It included his cell phone number and other means of contacting him. It was all so perfect. Too easy, maybe. I hope this becomes more difficult I wished.

This made my hopes on him being different then the others drop a little, but then again he did need people to know how to contact him if they needed to report a crime.

I stood up, my legs already beginning to cramp from not moving them. Pushing back my chair, I began to pace back and forth.

All I need to do is figure out how to get his attention. This couldn't be too difficult. I thought. I could get a murder spree started. Maybe something to get his attention.

I was thinking over the possibilities when I got an idea. "I'll just test how good he really is!" I exclaimed out loud. I fell back onto my chair, making it roll back over to the desk.

"I just need to contact a few people and bingo! It just needs to be someone that will be willing to do something like this," I mumbled. Sitting there, I racked my brain for someone who I could trust.

Someone that wouldn't be noticeable, but would always be in the right place at the right time. Someone that could be easily swayed by money. The idea didn't come to me right away so I decided to leave for a walk.

Usually, walks help my mind focus. In the city I live near, I get ideas quite easily from the many people that roam around. The conversations between them could give me more information about a person then any computer or news paper could.

The things people seem to know around the city and the rumors that travel around are great for finding out what I need to know. I stood up from my chair, the leather rubbing together making a squeaking noise.

Rolling it back to give me room to stand, I walked to the door of the room and exited it. Quickly, I grabbed the door and shut it, locking it with the key that I got along with the house.

I replaced the key into my pocket and continued down the hallway to the kitchen. The house seemed darker compared to the room I had just left. There was a smaller amount of windows then there were in my workroom, so not as much light seeped in through the panes.

The kitchen was quite small only consisting of a bar separating it from the dining room that opened at one end so I could enter it, a few more counters lined along the wall, a dishwasher, sink, and a fridge.

Next to the fridge placed on the east wall of the kitchen, there was the door leading to the mud room. From the mud room, another door leading outside and another leading to the garage.

I opened the door leading outside and went through it, breathing in the fresh afternoon air. I stood there for just a moment before walking over to the side walk. To the right, a little ways away, you could see the busy city where people seemed to be crammed together. A large moving body of flesh and sweat.

I was very hesitant to go in that direction, but in that mass of people, there may be an answer to my question. I looked down at myself. I had picked out one of my most regular outfits available, or at least regular from what I see other men my age wearing.

I had jeans, quite baggy at that, with a T-shirt that read a name of a band I didn't know anything about. My hair was brushed back, yet it was a bit messy.

At least I might fit in I thought to myself. I made a disgusted look down at my clothing then turned right and continued to walk, my hands shoved into my jean pockets to lower the amount of contact I made with people.

With my hopes high, I entered the wave of moving people. Once I got into the natural flow of things, only being hit by a few fast movers, I started to look around for my perfect person. The perfect murderer.

No one would think of an older person I thought The elderly are always considered safe. I pondered this in the back of my mind, careful to not make it distract me from the task at hand.

Looking around, I noticed tons of cabs along the sidewalk. The cabbies were either ushering people over to their cabs, or sitting in the taxi not seeming to care whether or not people rode with them.

There were also a few people sitting in the cabs, consulting the cabbie about payment. Cabbies are the best at swindling people out of their hard earned money I remarked to myself I wonder if they're good at swindling people into other things too.

This question interested me. This could be what I'm looking for. Making a sharp left, I walked over to where the taxi's seemed to all be gathering. I leaned over, looking into the window of one of the many taxi's parked on the curb.

There was a slightly older looking man sitting in the drivers seat of the cab. He wore rounded glasses upon his nose. On his head covered in grayish white hair, he wore a tan hat with black stripes in a plaid pattern.

His face was round, eyes a gray blue. He turned his head in my direction. His face was blank as he asked "Are you gettin in?" I smiled. He was the perfect murderer.

No one would suspect a cab driver. He can pick anyone up and leave them anywhere without anyone second guessing it. "No... But I was just wondering if I could have a name for... Future purposes" I replied.

His gaze never left mine as he said. "My name is Jeff Hope. My cab number is 71126" He answered. I stood up and stepped back from the cab. The engine sounded then Jeff Hope, my perfect murderer, was gone.

(Hello! So I forgot to ask before but do you guys like this story line so far? If you want me to continue you can tell me! Also if you want me to change anything I could see to it. I'll be writing quite a bit on this so just follow it to keep up if you really like it. If I can't write one day I'll try to tell tell you in the most recent chapter. Please review this and tell me what you think! :P And yes, that is the cabbies actual cab number)