Prompt: Too late (Michael JG Meathook)
Holmes made one final sweep of the lantern, briefly illuminating the dark nooks and crannies of the close vestibule before settling upon the peeling, splotchy door which led deeper into the manor.
"I expect we must tread deeper to find the answers we seek." Holmes lowered his voice, giving it a grave echo.
I assented, taking the door by the handle, and yanked it open. Holmes followed close behind me, a hand at the small of my back and the lantern held aloft to shed its dim light upon the vaulted chamber beyond. The entrance hall was not so large, but high and narrow, streaked with shadows, like silhouettes flitting in and out of the sputtering light.
However, it was not until Holmes and I had taken a few steps inside that we saw, illuminated some marks on the wall. Dark, spattered streaks trailed down in terraced lines into rough symbols.
"HELP," it read.
The tail of the 'P' sank toward the ground and gave way to a dark mass slumped against the wall. I was at its side in an instant, feeling for the flicker of life, but the body was cold to the touch. It was a man, no older than Holmes or I, his swollen features twisted into a gasp of horror, and his clothes damp with blood.