Chapter 6: A Pound For A Life (Part 3)

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Once again I found myself on the same street where the Welfore's lived. As I lead Sherlock to her house, I stopped as I realized I didn't want to go back to the Welfore's house and deal with all of those emotions again.

Without realizing I stopped, Sherlock pressed onward. As much as I did not want to go, I knew Sherlock was not the person for a grieving lady. I needed to be there to control him. As I followed him past the house that the Welfore family lived on, I raised my eyebrows. I thought we were going to talk to her and now I did not know where we were going. If we were not talking to the mother, we had to be talking to the gang and they should be close to here.

"I did a case with the gang before," he said as he turned onto a street then walked into a café.

"They can't own this." I said as I looked around at all the little decorations on the pink walls. Out of all the run-ins I've had with gangs, it was always in gritty places, but this looked like it was owned by a grandmother.

We weren't even there for a minute until a man came up to us. "Holmes, you're not welcome here," a man said as he cracked his knuckles. He was a short man, only about 2 inches talker than me, but the way he stood with his legs firmly grounded said that he was a man of power and the many gold rings on his hands proved it.

"Bob, we need to talk," Sherlock said and smiled pleasantly at him.

"Not with you, no," he stated and then crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fine, take her." Sherlock thrusted me in front of him.

"What?" I said in shock as I looked back at Sherlock. He had to not be serious. What on earth was he thinking? Leaving me alone with them? This was why he wanted me to come. I was going to be his shield.

He was quiet for a minute, which made me feel uncomfortable. This man was seeing what I would do, if I was going to see past him like Sherlock. I looked at Sherlock to see if his face gave me any clues about what he was thinking, but all his face said to me was to wait.

I was mad that Sherlock even suggest this. He and I both knew that I could hold my own, but that was beside the point. He didn't ask me beforehand. I should just leave right now, but there was something in his face that told me otherwise. He looked confidently at me as if he knew I could do great things.

"Fine, you need to leave though," the man finally said to Sherlock.

Without saying another word, Sherlock walked out of the store and down the road.

I watched him leave and when he was out of sight, I looked back at Bob. "Don't you dare touch me," I stated fiercely to him.

"Wow, he's got a feisty companion. Trust me, we're not like that. We like cooking now," he said and looked around at his little café.

I rolled my eyes at him. Yeah right, every gang has a front, and this was theirs. No matter how miss leading this was, he was the bad guy in this story and my gut told me that much.

"What do you want to ask me? I have five minutes," Bob said and took a seat at the nearest table.

"Why don't you like to talk to Sherlock, but you will talk with me?"

He said nothing for a minute, but I knew what the answer was. Sherlock could pick apart untold secrets. He could know he was up to something. But he didn't know me. If he thought I would be like John, he was wrong since I was nothing like him and I could do the same that Sherlock could. "I rather not say. Next question."

"Do you know this man?" I said and took out a picture of Luke from my pocket.

"Nope, can't say I can. Now, if that's all you wanted, you can leave now," he said with a faint smile on his face. His face was calm, like he was talking to a friend, but I could feel his left foot going up and down at a fast pace under the table.

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