The Canterbury Problem

The cold, icy February wind was howling over the fields as I walked past them. The usual thick fog was hovering over the entire village, making everything seem utterly scary and dramatic.
Cornhill-on-Tweed, one of those places where you’re not sure if it’s still England or already Scotland.
Usually it was clam and really nice, but recently there had been some rather unusual events. Two people have disappeared and they didn’t move away. I did research on it, asked people, but only got rejected and sent way again. People would rather silence all of this to death, than worry about the people.
I was walking Dickens, my German shorthaired pointer this morning. It was still early and most of the people wouldn’t go out in the cold that early. I followed the usual paths up river Tweed. It was still cold and windy up here.
Suddenly Dickens seemed to have smelled something, to which he responded with barking and pulling on his leash.
“Gee...calm down Dickens.” I tried to calm him, but he wouldn’t stop.
Gundog stays gundog, I thought to myself and decided to let him lead me to where he wanted to go. He pulled me down to the river, where I could see something laying in the water, half inside and half on land. Cautiously I made my way down, careful to not slip. As I approached the something, I realised that it was a corpse, a human corpse.
“Mrs. Henderson.” I gasped.
This is what happened to the people. They died and from the way Mrs. Henderson looked I assumed that it wasn’t a natural death. I picked up Dickens leash again and sprinted back to my house. If I would be seen or call the police they would just let her disappear. The only chance I had was to figure it out by myself or get help from outside the village.
Back home I had made a decision. I needed help and the only one I knew that could help me was Sherlock Holmes. I had read about him a few times and after the whole Baskerville thing, I knew that this would be something he would be interested in...