The wind was cold and sharp, tearing through the autumn air without mercy. Through it was only evening, Wilson huddled closer to the fire in a vain attempt to get warm. He had been in the Constant for a little less than a month by his accounts, and yet this was the coldest weather he had experienced. Usually he didn't have to go through this ordeal until nightfall.
Footsteps crunched through the pines. Wilson sprang up with a spear in hand
"Who's there," he asked, trying to peer through the thick wall of trees.
"Don't worry, you big baby, it's just me," came the reply.
Winnie stepped from behind a tree. Her face was worn and she was carrying a small bag of red berries. She went over to the fire and onto the hard ground.
"This was all I could find," she said wearily as she handed Wilson the bag. "I even checked the good lands, everything is just... gone."
Wilson put it down and threw another log onto the fire. "We need to look for a new location tomorrow. We'll have better luck somewhere else."
There was silence as both recovered from the day and split the small amount of food that Winnie had collected. Eventually, she broke the silence.
"Ya know... food isn't the only thing we haven't seen in a while," she stated. She seemed to have something on her mind. "When was the last time we saw Maxwell?"
Wilson gave this question some thought. It was true, they hadn't seen him in a while, but why was that such a bad thing? Personally, he thought that survival was easier WITHOUT a gloating puppet-master breathing down their necks.
"I never thought I would live to see it: the day that you actually miss Maxwell," Wilson said dryly. Maxwell and his "relationship" was bad, Maxwell's and Winnie's was worse.
"I don't miss him!" Winnie replied testily. "It just makes me nervous. If he's not done anything recently, it means that he's planning something, probably something big."
The seriousness of this fact sunk in as Wilson heard the words. She was right. He stared into the fire, going over options in his head. In this state, they would not be able to take on whatever Maxwell would throw at them: them; they were struggling enough as it was without his interference. Hopefully, he would not make his move until they had made it to a better location and gotten their bearings back.
Suddenly, there was laughter ringing in the air. They looked around and saw a shadow in the trees. A long, thin shadow. Both Winnie and Wilson sprang up. As quickly as it has come, it vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Okay, what just happened?" Winnie asked. Wilson made his way over to investigate. Where the shadow was, there was nothing except a piece of paper. He picked it up to discover thin cursive written on it.
"It's a note," Wilson reported back to Winnie, walking over to the fire.
"What does it say?"
He straightened the note with a flick of his wrist and started to read:
I'm afraid to say that I have not been checking up on you as much as I would have liked to. I've had things to do, places to see, and people to meet. What can I say? I'm a busy man.
Also, I wanted to be fair and give you two a fighting chance. After all, you can't get any entertainment out of someone who is frozen solid, can you?
Best of luck
That was it. There wasn't a signature; there was no need. Wilson handed the note to Winnie for her to read for herself.
He saw her lips move soundlessly as she scanned the page. "'...You can't get any entertainment out of someone who is frozen solid,' what does that mean?"
Wilson felt something cold and wet touch the back of his neck. He turned around to find the source, Dark clouds were covering the sky and, in the final hours of the day, white, puffy snowflakes were riding on the wind.
"Winter is coming."
Saturday, March 2, 2019
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Mission Aftermath (Part 2)
Commander is standing in the doorway. Compared to your boss, you suddenly look very out of place. His short, blonde hair is neatly combed, his business-like suit is crisp and clean, and his grass green eyes look well rested and untroubled. Seeing his pristine appearance made your anger overflow. He was definitely NOT the first person you wanted to see.
"You!" you exclaim, pushing yourself of your bed into a standing position.
"Yes me, Cally. No need to be so dramatic," Commander says, smirking.
You glare at him in rage and annoyance. Commander irritates the living daylights out of you and he knows it. He isn't afraid to do it either.
"You owe me some answers, Commander," you rage, striding towards him. Suddenly, you feel a sharp pain in your side and double over mid-stride.
"Careful, now," he scolds in his natural British accent. "You took quite a beating during the mission, and you still haven't fully recovered."
You straighten up with as much dignity as possible and sit down on the bed. Commander leaves his position in the doorway and sits down next to you with a sigh. His exhaled breath smells like the mints that were on your drawer. You stiffen, despite the pain still throbbing at your side.
"I used to have mints in a jar on my bedside table. You wouldn't know what happened to them, would you?" you growl, looking sideways at him through the corner of your eye.
Commander feigned a gasp. "Me? Cally, I have never heard such a preposterous accusation from an agent like yourself in all of my life!"
"And you talk to me about being dramatic," you mutter. You catch that smile, the smile that makes you want to punch something, playing at the corners of his mouth out of your peripheral vision. "Try taking your own advice for a change."
"But where's the fun in that?" Commander says, the aggravating smile full fledged now. "Besides, why follow my own advice when your here to follow it for me?"
All the anger that had been slowly regathering in the pit of your stomach suddenly furious like a grumpy beast that had been rudely awoken. You stand up once more, like the beast in your stomach, ready to pounce.
"Telling someone to do it is NOT the same as doing it yourself! If you are just here to annoy me, I suggest that you get out of my room! You haven't even explained to me what happened after I passed out! Was the mission a success? Did any of the other agents get captured? Are you even listing to me?"
You keep going. You let all of your anger and questions in one, continuous waterfall of dialog. You start pacing in front of the bed, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, ignoring the throbbing pain.
After a montage of pacing and ranting, you turn to face Commander to deliver one final blow of verbal combat, you see something glinting in his hand. A mechanical something. You stop, frozen in your tracks.
"Ah, I presume you are ready to listen to me now?" Commander says, a triumphant air in his voice. His words sound far away and echo-like. You don't even care about his witty remark. All you care about is getting to get a closer look at the device. It appears to be a midnight black cube the size of a grapefruit. The device has glowed an ominous, Disney villain green.
You have always been fond of technology, ever since you were a little girl. Science was, and still is, magic to you, and better yet, you could do it. Where people see random letters and numbers, you see a complex web of formulas that weave together to construct a digital universe. You can see the little cogs and wheels of intricate mechanical parts utilizing their place and job to complete their assigned task. Science was your strong suit, and it was what got you to become the leader of the mission.
"What. Is. That," you say, flabbergasted. You can't hide your surprise, no matter how hard you try.
"The answer to your question, my dear Cally," Commander said, rolling his eyes. "Yes, the others got out safely. Yes, I am listening to you. Yes, the mission was a success. This was the device that was out target."
"It seems to have a protective shell that needs to be deactivated to use," you observe, not caring about his sarcastic tone.
"Yes, we know that already. What we don't know is what it does and how to activate it. That's where you come in, hopefully. This assignment is a bit different than usual. You must choose to accept it at your own will because ...well, lets just say all we know is that it is highly dangerous and not much else." Commander informs you. You know in your heart that he was only asking you to join the mission to fulfill protocol. He knew as well as you did that you would not hesitate to accept.
Do it do it do it do it do it! Say yes! a little voice says in your head, egging you on. The prospect of finding out what that beautiful machine did was irresistible, despite the risks. Do it do it do it!
You are just about to say "I accept the assignment," when another voice made itself audible in your head.
Wait a second, Cally. Are you sure that this a good idea?All they know about this device is that it is highly dangerous. Are you really willing to risk the safety of you and everyone else just so you can satisfy your own selfish needs? Come on, be reasonable here.
You stand frozen as the voices in your head went back and forward, locked in a fierce debate. Finally, you decide to take the matter out of the hands of the voices and into your own.
"If I agree, will I be held accountable for the lives of the others that are also inspecting the device."
"No, you will only be liable for your own life and limb. Goodness, you're definitely taking your time! It isn't like the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, Cally." Commander says, slightly surprised at your hesitance.
You sigh and ,with the feeling that this is going to come back to haunt you, you say "I accept the assignment."
"Excellent! ?"
You groan. You know exactly what would happen next; debriefing. At the end of each mission, the lead agent would debrief what happened to an agent that was in charge of all the assignments. And, from the tone of his voice, you know EXACTLY who would be the agent.
"I see by your facial expression that you are just as thrilled as I am about this debriefing," Commander says with a smirk.
"I'm having trouble containing my excitement," you growl, the look you're giving saying that you are having no trouble whatsoever containing your joy.
Commander got off the bed and back to his original position in the doorway. "I'll meet you in my office. Oh, by the way, it might more fun if you weren't so sarcastic."
"WELL, MAYBE I WOULDN'T BE SO SARCASTIC IF YOU WEREN'T SO ANNOYING!" you yell after him as he leaves you to get ready for one of the worst forms of torture in your life.
"You!" you exclaim, pushing yourself of your bed into a standing position.
"Yes me, Cally. No need to be so dramatic," Commander says, smirking.
You glare at him in rage and annoyance. Commander irritates the living daylights out of you and he knows it. He isn't afraid to do it either.
"You owe me some answers, Commander," you rage, striding towards him. Suddenly, you feel a sharp pain in your side and double over mid-stride.
"Careful, now," he scolds in his natural British accent. "You took quite a beating during the mission, and you still haven't fully recovered."
You straighten up with as much dignity as possible and sit down on the bed. Commander leaves his position in the doorway and sits down next to you with a sigh. His exhaled breath smells like the mints that were on your drawer. You stiffen, despite the pain still throbbing at your side.
"I used to have mints in a jar on my bedside table. You wouldn't know what happened to them, would you?" you growl, looking sideways at him through the corner of your eye.
Commander feigned a gasp. "Me? Cally, I have never heard such a preposterous accusation from an agent like yourself in all of my life!"
"And you talk to me about being dramatic," you mutter. You catch that smile, the smile that makes you want to punch something, playing at the corners of his mouth out of your peripheral vision. "Try taking your own advice for a change."
"But where's the fun in that?" Commander says, the aggravating smile full fledged now. "Besides, why follow my own advice when your here to follow it for me?"
All the anger that had been slowly regathering in the pit of your stomach suddenly furious like a grumpy beast that had been rudely awoken. You stand up once more, like the beast in your stomach, ready to pounce.
"Telling someone to do it is NOT the same as doing it yourself! If you are just here to annoy me, I suggest that you get out of my room! You haven't even explained to me what happened after I passed out! Was the mission a success? Did any of the other agents get captured? Are you even listing to me?"
You keep going. You let all of your anger and questions in one, continuous waterfall of dialog. You start pacing in front of the bed, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, ignoring the throbbing pain.
After a montage of pacing and ranting, you turn to face Commander to deliver one final blow of verbal combat, you see something glinting in his hand. A mechanical something. You stop, frozen in your tracks.
"Ah, I presume you are ready to listen to me now?" Commander says, a triumphant air in his voice. His words sound far away and echo-like. You don't even care about his witty remark. All you care about is getting to get a closer look at the device. It appears to be a midnight black cube the size of a grapefruit. The device has glowed an ominous, Disney villain green.
You have always been fond of technology, ever since you were a little girl. Science was, and still is, magic to you, and better yet, you could do it. Where people see random letters and numbers, you see a complex web of formulas that weave together to construct a digital universe. You can see the little cogs and wheels of intricate mechanical parts utilizing their place and job to complete their assigned task. Science was your strong suit, and it was what got you to become the leader of the mission.
"What. Is. That," you say, flabbergasted. You can't hide your surprise, no matter how hard you try.
"The answer to your question, my dear Cally," Commander said, rolling his eyes. "Yes, the others got out safely. Yes, I am listening to you. Yes, the mission was a success. This was the device that was out target."
"It seems to have a protective shell that needs to be deactivated to use," you observe, not caring about his sarcastic tone.
"Yes, we know that already. What we don't know is what it does and how to activate it. That's where you come in, hopefully. This assignment is a bit different than usual. You must choose to accept it at your own will because ...well, lets just say all we know is that it is highly dangerous and not much else." Commander informs you. You know in your heart that he was only asking you to join the mission to fulfill protocol. He knew as well as you did that you would not hesitate to accept.
Do it do it do it do it do it! Say yes! a little voice says in your head, egging you on. The prospect of finding out what that beautiful machine did was irresistible, despite the risks. Do it do it do it!
You are just about to say "I accept the assignment," when another voice made itself audible in your head.
Wait a second, Cally. Are you sure that this a good idea?All they know about this device is that it is highly dangerous. Are you really willing to risk the safety of you and everyone else just so you can satisfy your own selfish needs? Come on, be reasonable here.
You stand frozen as the voices in your head went back and forward, locked in a fierce debate. Finally, you decide to take the matter out of the hands of the voices and into your own.
"If I agree, will I be held accountable for the lives of the others that are also inspecting the device."
"No, you will only be liable for your own life and limb. Goodness, you're definitely taking your time! It isn't like the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, Cally." Commander says, slightly surprised at your hesitance.
You sigh and ,with the feeling that this is going to come back to haunt you, you say "I accept the assignment."
"Excellent! ?"
You groan. You know exactly what would happen next; debriefing. At the end of each mission, the lead agent would debrief what happened to an agent that was in charge of all the assignments. And, from the tone of his voice, you know EXACTLY who would be the agent.
"I see by your facial expression that you are just as thrilled as I am about this debriefing," Commander says with a smirk.
"I'm having trouble containing my excitement," you growl, the look you're giving saying that you are having no trouble whatsoever containing your joy.
Commander got off the bed and back to his original position in the doorway. "I'll meet you in my office. Oh, by the way, it might more fun if you weren't so sarcastic."
"WELL, MAYBE I WOULDN'T BE SO SARCASTIC IF YOU WEREN'T SO ANNOYING!" you yell after him as he leaves you to get ready for one of the worst forms of torture in your life.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Mission Aftermath
(THIS STORY IS INCOMPLETE! I AM GIVING YOU A SNEAK PEEK OF THE STORY!)
You wake up with a start to complete darkness. Your muscles tense as you start to panic, eyes flitting around in the darkness.
"He has me. He must have the others. One of us is going to crack and tell him everything. Its all over!" you frantically think, huddling into a small, tight ball.
Suddenly, you notice details about your surroundings that help you calm your anxiety and hyperventilation. For one thing, you had been trapped in some sort of sack before, and it has definitely never been this comfy. Second, this place seemed familiar, good familiar, not bad familiar like other times you'd get this feeling. The fabric felt kind and inviting against your body. The nice sound of rain filled the low light-level atmosphere you lay in. The smell of rainy summer and your favorite mints waft through the darkness. You get bored of just laying there like a dead fish, so you wiggle in the direction you think best. After squiggling around like a worm in dark earth, you finally see light and, ...no. You can't believe your readjusting eyes. You see your bedroom. The window is open, letting in the nice, rainy day smell. You look around in complete bewilderment while you take it all in. You look from the hard wood floor to your secret stash of mints on your dresser, empty (which you find strange because you were sure that you had just restocked before you left on the mission). You take a look at the mirror and freeze, gazing at your appearance. Your chocolate brown hair that usually falls like a waterfall to your shoulders is in complete disarray. Your blueish green eyes stared hard into the mirror, trying to process if you really look like this. A new addition to your On your cheek is a new addition to your scruffy appearance; a long cut that runs almost from your nose to your cheekbone that you know you have, but you can't remember getting. Still wearing the black pants and top you had worn on the mission, you think that you look a bit like a type of demented ninja hedgehog.
"Oh, man," you mutter to yourself, shocked by your unruly appearance. How long have I been out?"
You give yourself one last look at your surroundings and your appearance, exhale a sigh, and get out of bed. Just as you are examining your disturbing refection in closer detail, you hear a knock at the door.
"May I come in, Cally?" the man asks and enters your room, without waiting for an answer. Anger flods your body as you see who it is.
You wake up with a start to complete darkness. Your muscles tense as you start to panic, eyes flitting around in the darkness.
"He has me. He must have the others. One of us is going to crack and tell him everything. Its all over!" you frantically think, huddling into a small, tight ball.
Suddenly, you notice details about your surroundings that help you calm your anxiety and hyperventilation. For one thing, you had been trapped in some sort of sack before, and it has definitely never been this comfy. Second, this place seemed familiar, good familiar, not bad familiar like other times you'd get this feeling. The fabric felt kind and inviting against your body. The nice sound of rain filled the low light-level atmosphere you lay in. The smell of rainy summer and your favorite mints waft through the darkness. You get bored of just laying there like a dead fish, so you wiggle in the direction you think best. After squiggling around like a worm in dark earth, you finally see light and, ...no. You can't believe your readjusting eyes. You see your bedroom. The window is open, letting in the nice, rainy day smell. You look around in complete bewilderment while you take it all in. You look from the hard wood floor to your secret stash of mints on your dresser, empty (which you find strange because you were sure that you had just restocked before you left on the mission). You take a look at the mirror and freeze, gazing at your appearance. Your chocolate brown hair that usually falls like a waterfall to your shoulders is in complete disarray. Your blueish green eyes stared hard into the mirror, trying to process if you really look like this. A new addition to your On your cheek is a new addition to your scruffy appearance; a long cut that runs almost from your nose to your cheekbone that you know you have, but you can't remember getting. Still wearing the black pants and top you had worn on the mission, you think that you look a bit like a type of demented ninja hedgehog.
"Oh, man," you mutter to yourself, shocked by your unruly appearance. How long have I been out?"
You give yourself one last look at your surroundings and your appearance, exhale a sigh, and get out of bed. Just as you are examining your disturbing refection in closer detail, you hear a knock at the door.
"May I come in, Cally?" the man asks and enters your room, without waiting for an answer. Anger flods your body as you see who it is.
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
The Irregulars
This is a short story Olivia wrote a little bit ago, I'm just moving it here so people can get to it more easily. Enjoy!
July 26, 2014,
An Irregular Story
The hollow sounds of horse and carriages echo down the street. People stream by, going on about their daily business, not sparing a thought for me. I guess I can't blame them, seeing as there are plenty of shops on my street, but I thought I was sort of special, seeing as I was the only one who made and sold personalized perfumes and colognes. You see, I take orders on what smell to make, and then I make it. An interesting profession, I know, but there aren't many jobs for an unmarried and non-courting girl of 16 in London. My parents had died when I was very young, not even 5 years old. I was then shipped off to a terrible orphanage with a terrible director. I escaped from there when I was 10 and have been living on the street ever since. 3 years ago, I met an interesting man. This man offered me a cash reward for reporting troubles and helping with his cases around my home street. I earned enough cash from this to open up my shop, and I also earned the title of a Baker Street Irregular.
One day, I saw a particular suspicious man that I recognized from the police station sketches. As soon as I saw him, I closed up shop and ran as possible to 221B Baker Street, where the man lived, who goes by the name Sherlock Holmes. Once I arrived, I knocked on the door.
"Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson are you in there?!" I called.
"Gracious child, what's the matter?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she opened the door. Once she saw me, her eyes widened in recognition. "Darcy? What's going on? Is it just you?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. It's just me. I would like to talk to Mr. Holmes. Is that possible?" I inquired hopefully.
"Sorry, dear. Mr. Holmes is off on a case this week." Mrs. Hudson answered, sympathetically.
"Doctor Watson then?" I pressed.
"He went with Mr. Holmes. Whatever is the matter dear? Is it anything I can help you with?"
"I just saw one of the men that the police have drawings of." Words came tumbling out of my mouth.
"Where?" Mrs. Hudson seemed taken aback.
"In the police station."
"No, I meant where did you see the man?"
"One street over, just outside of my shop."
"Well, seeing as how both Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson are incapacitated are the present moment, you're going to have to take this matter to the police." Mrs. Hudson then gave me one last apologetic look and shut the door. Sighing, I turned around and walked back to my store.
When I got back to the store, an unknown man walked in. I rarely get new customers, in fact I rarely get customers at all. The man looked to be about 25 years of age, medium build, with short dirty blond hair. He looked at me with a long, questioning look. I could just imagine what I must look like to a random stranger: A lanky girl of 16, alone in a shop, wearing a simple cotton dress and apron, not to mention having a strange business. Still looking suspicious
he cleared his throat.
"Is this 'Euphoria'?" he asked in a smooth, soft voice, like chocolate.
"Um, yes it is. Is there anything I can help you with?" I replied, a little nervous.
"I hear you make custom scents." he continued, his voice floating through the air, almost hypnotic.
"Yes, I-I do," I stuttered, taking out a notepad and a pen. "Do you have a name?"
"Of course," he said, irritated. "People call me Mr. Lynch."
"Thank you, and your order?" I say absentmindedly, relaxing a little as I scribbled down words on my notepad. Next thing I knew, Mr. Lynch had me up against the wall, with a knife to my throat.
"My order would be for you to keep your small adolescent nose out of other people's business." Mr. Lynch growled.
"I don't know what you mean," I gasped.
"Yes, you do. You saw him walking down the street today and immediately ran to Mr. Holmes. Well, he's not here to help you this time, I made sure of that." Mr. Lynch put his knife away and started to leave. Right before he got to the door he turned around, "oh, and make sure you stay away from this whole affair or else the knife will go deeper next time." With that he left the store. I leaned against the counter to steady myself, a small throbbing in my neck where the knife had been placed was the only evidence that the entire exchange ever happened. Putting out my candles, I went behind my counter and pulled out my bed roll. Laying down, I fell into a restless, fitful sleep of nightmares about Mr. Lynch coming back and stabbing me in the middle of the night. The next morning, I went to talk to the other Irregulars.
I met Joey on the street corner, where he was selling newspapers. I waved him over to me and he jogged over.
"Hey Darcy," he said as he ran around the corner. We were standing in an alley between a flower shop and a tailors. "What's going on?"
"I need your help." I said.
"Help? Help for what?" Joey was genuinely perplexed.
"I saw a man yesterday, one of the ones that the police are looking for. Then, last evening I was threatened in my shop." I looked at Joey, who still looked confused.
"Shouldn't we go tell Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson?"
"I tried that, but Mrs. Hudson said they were out of town. Mr. Lynch said that he was the one who sent them out." I was a little annoyed with Joey. He could either help me or he couldn't.
"Mr. Lynch?" Joey still looked confused.
"The one who threatened me yesterday." I felt like I was done explaining, but with Joey you could never tell. Joey nodded and looked over his shoulder. A few minutes later, I was on my way with the promise of Joey meeting me later at my shop, along with the other Irregulars. That evening, I was sitting on the counter in my shop, Euphoria, surrounded by Joey, Matt, Fred, and Roy. After retelling the story that I had told them earlier that day, I waited for their questions. Roy spoke up first.
"So, tell me again why we can't talk to Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson?" Roy sounded annoyed.
"I already told you a million times! They're out of town because of something Mr. Lynch did!" no matter how annoyed Roy sounded, I sounded much more so.
"Well, if the Doctor and the Mister aren't here, then I don't see how we are supposed to help." Fred said next. The little kid was the youngest of us 5, but that didn't mean he couldn't keep up with us older children.
"We help every other time don't we?" I asked, exasperated.
Matt sighed, "Darcy, I wish I could help you. I really do, but without the Mister and the Doctor I think we should just bring this matter to the police." Matt looked down at his watch, "I have to be going. I'm sorry again Darcy." With that, he turned around and left the store. After Matt left, Fred looked very uncomfortable.
"Is there something you want to say?" I peered into Fred's face, as he turned away.
"I have to go too," Fred muttered. "I'm so sorry Darcy, I just don't want to get in trouble with the police. I can't let them take me back, and Mr. Holmes isn't here to help me this time." With his head hanging low, the little boy walked out of the shop and raced to catch up with Matt.
"Well, what about you two?" I asked incredulously.
Roy looked up into my eyes, and I stared down into his deep blue eyes, he spoke softly. "Darcy," as he continued to speak his voice got louder and more excited, "there is absolutely no possible way that you can ever talk me out of this! I mean, it's cool enough to work on cases with Mr. Holmes, but all by ourselves? This is the best!" Roy looked practically giddy with excitement by the time he was done speaking.
I turned to Joey, "Joey? What about you? Are you in this with us?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Definitely! What are we talking about again?" Joey said, looking confused and out of it. Laughing, Roy and I caught him up on everything that had happened in the past ten minutes, because he seemed to have blanked out. By the time everyone had to go home, we had already made plans to meet up the next day.
The next day was business as usual, which meant that there was no business, like usual. I spent the day making perfumes, colognes, and notes. The perfumes and colognes were for customers, and the notes were for our case. Around noon, Mrs. Hudson walked in. Surprised, I walked around the counter.
"Hi, Mrs. Hudson, is there anything I can help you with?" I asked politely.
"Yes, dear. You see, after our talk the other day, I telegraphed Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson." Mrs. Hudson said, fidgeting a little. "I just wanted him to know what was going on in his absence. The problem is, I got another telegram back today that doesn't sound like him at all." Mrs. Hudson handed me a telegram. "It's addressed to you." I opened it up and read it.
Dear Miss McGrew,
I regret to inform you that there is nothing that I can do to help you on this little 'case' of yours. This matter should be brought before the police right now, if you haven't told them already. Don't be worried if you haven't, though. A high profile criminal like the one you saw surely would have been spotted by other London citizens, and taken care of already. Even if this is not the case, I urge you to NOT go investigating on your own, or with any of the other Irregulars. I don't want you or anyone else getting hurt. Stay out of this, and pretend you never saw the man. If you go asking questions, he will know you saw him, and if he knows you saw him, he will come after you. So heed my words, Miss Darcy McGrew, and stay out of trouble.
Sincerely,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes
I stared at the letter in shock, reading and rereading it. I shook my head, my brown braids moving only slightly. "That doesn't sound like Mr. Holmes at all!"
"I know," Mrs. Hudson's voice was soft and scared. "That's what worries me." Studying the note closer, I remember the signal the Irregulars in I used to put in our notes to each other when we were helping Mr. Holmes with a case.
"Look!" I gasped. "The other Irregulars and I made up a code for our notes to each other, Mr. Holmes obviously knew about. The code was quite simple actually, and anyone taking the time to study our notes to each other could figure it out. All you do is write one sentence, and then capitalize the one word that you don't mean. So, 'I urge you to NOT go investigating on your own, or with any of the other Irregulars' is that sentence. Take out the NOT and it tells us to go investigating. Sounds stupid, I know, but that was his one way to hint that this isn't right!"
"Do you think?" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.
"Yes, I do, and if you don't mind Mrs. Hudson, I would like to go show this to the other Irregulars." I nodded to Mrs. Hudson and followed her out the store, locking up behind me. I ran down the street and got Joey, then told him to go get Roy. After Joey collected Roy they made their way over to my shop. Just as before, I was sitting on the counter, but this time with Joey and Roy sitting on either side of me. Jumping down from the counter, I handed Roy the telegram.
The red hair boy looked at it then stared at me, his brownish red hair falling in front of his eyes. "This isn't good. This is not good."
"Can I see?" Joey tried to peer over Roy's shoulder, his black hair bouncing up and down with his movements. Roy handed the telegram to the shorter boy, who read it, then looked at us, confusion clouding his already stormy grey eyes. "What are you two going on about? What's bad about this?"
Sighing, Roy reached over and pointed out the incriminating sentence. "Remember our 'code'?" Joey nodded and Roy continued, "this is part is that code. Mr. Holmes obviously knew about it and this is obviously his attempt to alert us that something was wrong." Joey's eyes widened in terror.
"So, what are we going to do?" Joey voiced what we were all thinking.
"The only thing we can do, tell the police." I stated.
"Tell the police what?" Roy said, irritated. "That Mr. Holmes is away? That the only 'proof' we have of his disappearance is a silly code made up by a couple of street kids? We have nothing! They wouldn't believe us, much less listen to us."
"Roy's right," Joey admitted. "The only thing we can do is to help him ourselves." Sighing, I agreed. Together, we made plans to start our investigation the following morning. My job was to go to the police station to find out who the man I saw was. After that, I would pass my information onto Joey and Roy who would then ask around to see if they could find out anything about said man. That night, as I lay on my bedroll under the counter, I could only dream of what would happen when this was all over. Would I be paid? Would we be heroes? Or would we be arrested or something similar. When I woke up, I got changed into a plain blue cotton dress and walked to the police station.
On the way, I thought up possible cover stories for my presence at the police station. After multiple scenarios, I finally settled on saying a thief stole my purse. I had the whole thing planned out in my head. I didn't plan on using the excuse unless I truly had to. I also didn't plan on being in there long. Just long enough to get a name and get out. But, if they did ask me why I was there, I imagine the exchange would go a little like this:
"Miss, is there anything I can help you with?" a police officer might ask.
"Yes! I believe someone stole my purse." I would say, feigning weakness.
Then the police officer would then probably ask if I had a description, and I would tell him to wait a second, as I had written it down. I would then proceed to rummage through my purse, look surprised, and leave. As hard as it is to believe, I thought of all this in the short 10 minute walk to the police station. I slipped in, wincing as my presence was made known by the bell hanging above the door. Walking over to the wall of 'Wanted' sketches, my eyes ran over face after face of unknown and unnerving men until I found the one I recognized. Underneath his sketch was his name. Taking out my pencil and paper, I wrote down the two simple words: 'Byron Sike'. Hastily putting my writing utensils back in my purse and walked towards the door. Thankfully, none of the police officers took much interest in me since I was leaving. Running down the street as fast as my shoes, dress, and gender could allow, I went to get Joey and Roy. Since their bosses would fire them if they saw them talking to me, I just handed them a piece of paper with the name and the time they should meet me at the shop.
At the set time, Joey and Roy walked into my shop. Sitting down, Roy started talking first.
"I started striking up casual conversation at first. Just a question here or there to someone who seemed like they might know what I'm talking about. I got no direct answer, after I asked a group of tough looking men if they ever heard of man called Byron Sikes, and they all said no. As they walked away, I heard one of them men turn to another and say, 'Sikes is back?' Then they all started talking at the same time, telling the first man that 'of course Sikes is back!' and 'ya haven't heard?' I didn't catch the rest of their conversation, just that Sikes usually hangs out in this shady pub called 'The Hydra's Head'." Roy finished, looking quite proud of himself.
Scribbling to write what Roy just said down, I turned to Joey. "Did you hear anything?"
Joey sighed, then began. "I tried my very best, but you know I sell newspapers. That isn't exactly a job where you can make small talk, and I didn't want to shout out his name like it would be in the papers." Roy and I nodded solemnly in agreement. "But I did keep my ears open, and stuck to shadier streets. Alas, I didn't hear anything. I'm sorry Darcy." Joey looked down, as if he had failed.
"It's okay, Joey." I said tenderly, patting him on the shoulder. "You did the best that you could." Joey looked up and gave me a bleak smile. "Now, the next step is to go to the Hydra's Head and see if we can find out anything."
"I'll go. I look older than you two do," Roy volunteered.
"Just be careful, okay?" I asked the redhaired boy. Smiling, he bobbed his head in agreement. "See you tomorrow," I said as the two boys strode out of my store.
The next day was the most normal one since this whole endeavour began. There was no sneaking around, no visits to the police, no threats, nothing really. All there really was to do that day was wait for Roy and Joey to come over. Just before dusk, Roy came running into the shop.
"Do you have any water?" he gasped. I handed him a glass of water and had him sit down before he continued. "I was at that tavern the entire day. I managed to overhear something about a Mr. Sikes and a Mr. Lynch hanging out at the old abandoned warehouse down by the river, but I didn't pay it much attention because I saw Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch walk in. They talked to the bartender for about 5 minutes, then walked out. Naturally, I followed him. They took a roundabout route to the river, and it seemed like that man was telling the truth. They walked into this large abandoned warehouse, number 14 I think, and closed the door behind them. I jogged up to the window and tried to look inside, see if I could see anything. The window was too tall for me to see in, so I stood on a rubbish can near by. After dragging the can over as quietly as possible, I peered into the grimy window. I saw the Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch's backs. They were standing in front of something that I couldn't see, and I craned my neck for a better view. Eventually, they moved aside and I could see Mr. Holmes tied up to a chair! I was so startled that I fell off the rubbish can. It made such a racket that I ran all the way back here for fear that they would investigate and find me out."
Grabbing Roy's shoulders and roughly shaking them I cried, "this is great! Now we don't only know where Mr. Holmes is but we also know Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch's base of operations!" It took all my willpower not to start dancing around the room. "Now that we know things, we can go and get Mr. Holmes! Then he'll help us!" My voice rose higher and higher, shriller and shriller, until I felt like the windows would shatter. Roy just looked at me and Joey covered his ears.
Roy waited for my outburst to be done, then just looked at me sadly. "They're going to move them, Darcy." He said softly, looking into my eyes "They know I was there, they're not going to take that chance."
I realised Roy and slumped down onto the counter, dejected. Hearing a strange sound, I looked again. To my surprise, Roy and Joey were giggling.
"What?!" I demanded incredulously.
"Honestly Darcy! I thought you were smarter than this!" Joey managed to get out between giggles.
"What? What!" I said again, confused and angry.
Sighing and wiping tears from his eyes, Roy said, "it's simple! We just get Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson BEFORE they move them."
"Ooooh!" I said, finally understanding. "So what are we waiting for?"
"Just for you to understand," Joey said grinning. I grabbed my coat and we ran out the door. On the way there, Roy stopped to grab some rope from a very suspicious looking stack of objects. Not questioning him, we just kept on going.
"Over here!" Roy called, gesturing to an old abandoned warehouse. The warehouse was, like I said, old and abandoned. The paint was peeling off and the hinges on the huge bay doors were almost rusted through. There was a smaller door, though, with a single grimy glass pane. Roy led us to that door, and we tried the handle.
"It's locked!" Joey groaned, looking defeated.
"Oh, how you doubt me," Roy said grinning, pulling a set of lock-picks.
"Roy! That's illegal!" I whispered angrily.
"Well, so is kidnapping!" he countered. Shrugging because he had a point, stepped aside and let him unlock the door. Once the door was unlocked, Roy pushed it open, it's hinges creaking loudly.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice echoing throughout the building. Roy and Joey elbowed me to remind me to be quiet. A muffled voice rang out in return. Gesturing madly to Roy and Joey, I crouched down behind a bunch of old boxes and ran toward the sound of the voice. Eventually, we could see the wooden chairs in which Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson were tied up. The chairs were tied up in the 'classic' position. One back of the chair was tied to the other, so neither of the men could see each other, but that didn't keep them from arguing.
"Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?" I heard a voice that I recognized as Doctor Watson said.
"You know perfectly well why! There was a problem and we couldn't just leave it!" Mr. Holmes voice replied, obviously annoyed.
"We? It was you!" Doctor Watson practically shouted.
"It's them all right," Joey said, as we all shook with silent laughter. Stepping out from behind out cover, we ran over and started untying the knots.
"Kids! What are you doing here?!" Doctor Watson sounded appalled.
"Helping us, obviously," Holmes said dryly. When we got all the knots untied, we all ran out of the building. Locking the door behind us, Roy and I ran to the police station while Holmes, Watson, and Joey stayed back to wait for Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch. We told the police everything we knew and they agreed to post an officer outside that warehouse.
Walking out, Roy turned to me and said, "I can't believe that we're almost done! That the bad guys will be caught, finally!"
Grinning back, I replied, "yeah,and it only took a of couple weeks." We laughed and walked back to the warehouse talking. We told Holmes, Watson, and Joey what happened down at the police station, and we all waited by the warehouse together for the police officer. Two days, later, I got a telegram.
Dear Miss McGrew,
We are pleased to inform you that the men you had reported to us previously have been arrested and put into custody. Mr. Sikes and Mr Lynch will no longer be bothering you. They will no longer be bothering anyone.
Sincerely,
Scotland Yard July 26, 2014,
An Irregular Story
The hollow sounds of horse and carriages echo down the street. People stream by, going on about their daily business, not sparing a thought for me. I guess I can't blame them, seeing as there are plenty of shops on my street, but I thought I was sort of special, seeing as I was the only one who made and sold personalized perfumes and colognes. You see, I take orders on what smell to make, and then I make it. An interesting profession, I know, but there aren't many jobs for an unmarried and non-courting girl of 16 in London. My parents had died when I was very young, not even 5 years old. I was then shipped off to a terrible orphanage with a terrible director. I escaped from there when I was 10 and have been living on the street ever since. 3 years ago, I met an interesting man. This man offered me a cash reward for reporting troubles and helping with his cases around my home street. I earned enough cash from this to open up my shop, and I also earned the title of a Baker Street Irregular.
One day, I saw a particular suspicious man that I recognized from the police station sketches. As soon as I saw him, I closed up shop and ran as possible to 221B Baker Street, where the man lived, who goes by the name Sherlock Holmes. Once I arrived, I knocked on the door.
"Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson are you in there?!" I called.
"Gracious child, what's the matter?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she opened the door. Once she saw me, her eyes widened in recognition. "Darcy? What's going on? Is it just you?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. It's just me. I would like to talk to Mr. Holmes. Is that possible?" I inquired hopefully.
"Sorry, dear. Mr. Holmes is off on a case this week." Mrs. Hudson answered, sympathetically.
"Doctor Watson then?" I pressed.
"He went with Mr. Holmes. Whatever is the matter dear? Is it anything I can help you with?"
"I just saw one of the men that the police have drawings of." Words came tumbling out of my mouth.
"Where?" Mrs. Hudson seemed taken aback.
"In the police station."
"No, I meant where did you see the man?"
"One street over, just outside of my shop."
"Well, seeing as how both Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson are incapacitated are the present moment, you're going to have to take this matter to the police." Mrs. Hudson then gave me one last apologetic look and shut the door. Sighing, I turned around and walked back to my store.
When I got back to the store, an unknown man walked in. I rarely get new customers, in fact I rarely get customers at all. The man looked to be about 25 years of age, medium build, with short dirty blond hair. He looked at me with a long, questioning look. I could just imagine what I must look like to a random stranger: A lanky girl of 16, alone in a shop, wearing a simple cotton dress and apron, not to mention having a strange business. Still looking suspicious
he cleared his throat.
"Is this 'Euphoria'?" he asked in a smooth, soft voice, like chocolate.
"Um, yes it is. Is there anything I can help you with?" I replied, a little nervous.
"I hear you make custom scents." he continued, his voice floating through the air, almost hypnotic.
"Yes, I-I do," I stuttered, taking out a notepad and a pen. "Do you have a name?"
"Of course," he said, irritated. "People call me Mr. Lynch."
"Thank you, and your order?" I say absentmindedly, relaxing a little as I scribbled down words on my notepad. Next thing I knew, Mr. Lynch had me up against the wall, with a knife to my throat.
"My order would be for you to keep your small adolescent nose out of other people's business." Mr. Lynch growled.
"I don't know what you mean," I gasped.
"Yes, you do. You saw him walking down the street today and immediately ran to Mr. Holmes. Well, he's not here to help you this time, I made sure of that." Mr. Lynch put his knife away and started to leave. Right before he got to the door he turned around, "oh, and make sure you stay away from this whole affair or else the knife will go deeper next time." With that he left the store. I leaned against the counter to steady myself, a small throbbing in my neck where the knife had been placed was the only evidence that the entire exchange ever happened. Putting out my candles, I went behind my counter and pulled out my bed roll. Laying down, I fell into a restless, fitful sleep of nightmares about Mr. Lynch coming back and stabbing me in the middle of the night. The next morning, I went to talk to the other Irregulars.
I met Joey on the street corner, where he was selling newspapers. I waved him over to me and he jogged over.
"Hey Darcy," he said as he ran around the corner. We were standing in an alley between a flower shop and a tailors. "What's going on?"
"I need your help." I said.
"Help? Help for what?" Joey was genuinely perplexed.
"I saw a man yesterday, one of the ones that the police are looking for. Then, last evening I was threatened in my shop." I looked at Joey, who still looked confused.
"Shouldn't we go tell Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson?"
"I tried that, but Mrs. Hudson said they were out of town. Mr. Lynch said that he was the one who sent them out." I was a little annoyed with Joey. He could either help me or he couldn't.
"Mr. Lynch?" Joey still looked confused.
"The one who threatened me yesterday." I felt like I was done explaining, but with Joey you could never tell. Joey nodded and looked over his shoulder. A few minutes later, I was on my way with the promise of Joey meeting me later at my shop, along with the other Irregulars. That evening, I was sitting on the counter in my shop, Euphoria, surrounded by Joey, Matt, Fred, and Roy. After retelling the story that I had told them earlier that day, I waited for their questions. Roy spoke up first.
"So, tell me again why we can't talk to Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson?" Roy sounded annoyed.
"I already told you a million times! They're out of town because of something Mr. Lynch did!" no matter how annoyed Roy sounded, I sounded much more so.
"Well, if the Doctor and the Mister aren't here, then I don't see how we are supposed to help." Fred said next. The little kid was the youngest of us 5, but that didn't mean he couldn't keep up with us older children.
"We help every other time don't we?" I asked, exasperated.
Matt sighed, "Darcy, I wish I could help you. I really do, but without the Mister and the Doctor I think we should just bring this matter to the police." Matt looked down at his watch, "I have to be going. I'm sorry again Darcy." With that, he turned around and left the store. After Matt left, Fred looked very uncomfortable.
"Is there something you want to say?" I peered into Fred's face, as he turned away.
"I have to go too," Fred muttered. "I'm so sorry Darcy, I just don't want to get in trouble with the police. I can't let them take me back, and Mr. Holmes isn't here to help me this time." With his head hanging low, the little boy walked out of the shop and raced to catch up with Matt.
"Well, what about you two?" I asked incredulously.
Roy looked up into my eyes, and I stared down into his deep blue eyes, he spoke softly. "Darcy," as he continued to speak his voice got louder and more excited, "there is absolutely no possible way that you can ever talk me out of this! I mean, it's cool enough to work on cases with Mr. Holmes, but all by ourselves? This is the best!" Roy looked practically giddy with excitement by the time he was done speaking.
I turned to Joey, "Joey? What about you? Are you in this with us?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Definitely! What are we talking about again?" Joey said, looking confused and out of it. Laughing, Roy and I caught him up on everything that had happened in the past ten minutes, because he seemed to have blanked out. By the time everyone had to go home, we had already made plans to meet up the next day.
The next day was business as usual, which meant that there was no business, like usual. I spent the day making perfumes, colognes, and notes. The perfumes and colognes were for customers, and the notes were for our case. Around noon, Mrs. Hudson walked in. Surprised, I walked around the counter.
"Hi, Mrs. Hudson, is there anything I can help you with?" I asked politely.
"Yes, dear. You see, after our talk the other day, I telegraphed Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson." Mrs. Hudson said, fidgeting a little. "I just wanted him to know what was going on in his absence. The problem is, I got another telegram back today that doesn't sound like him at all." Mrs. Hudson handed me a telegram. "It's addressed to you." I opened it up and read it.
Dear Miss McGrew,
I regret to inform you that there is nothing that I can do to help you on this little 'case' of yours. This matter should be brought before the police right now, if you haven't told them already. Don't be worried if you haven't, though. A high profile criminal like the one you saw surely would have been spotted by other London citizens, and taken care of already. Even if this is not the case, I urge you to NOT go investigating on your own, or with any of the other Irregulars. I don't want you or anyone else getting hurt. Stay out of this, and pretend you never saw the man. If you go asking questions, he will know you saw him, and if he knows you saw him, he will come after you. So heed my words, Miss Darcy McGrew, and stay out of trouble.
Sincerely,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes
I stared at the letter in shock, reading and rereading it. I shook my head, my brown braids moving only slightly. "That doesn't sound like Mr. Holmes at all!"
"I know," Mrs. Hudson's voice was soft and scared. "That's what worries me." Studying the note closer, I remember the signal the Irregulars in I used to put in our notes to each other when we were helping Mr. Holmes with a case.
"Look!" I gasped. "The other Irregulars and I made up a code for our notes to each other, Mr. Holmes obviously knew about. The code was quite simple actually, and anyone taking the time to study our notes to each other could figure it out. All you do is write one sentence, and then capitalize the one word that you don't mean. So, 'I urge you to NOT go investigating on your own, or with any of the other Irregulars' is that sentence. Take out the NOT and it tells us to go investigating. Sounds stupid, I know, but that was his one way to hint that this isn't right!"
"Do you think?" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.
"Yes, I do, and if you don't mind Mrs. Hudson, I would like to go show this to the other Irregulars." I nodded to Mrs. Hudson and followed her out the store, locking up behind me. I ran down the street and got Joey, then told him to go get Roy. After Joey collected Roy they made their way over to my shop. Just as before, I was sitting on the counter, but this time with Joey and Roy sitting on either side of me. Jumping down from the counter, I handed Roy the telegram.
The red hair boy looked at it then stared at me, his brownish red hair falling in front of his eyes. "This isn't good. This is not good."
"Can I see?" Joey tried to peer over Roy's shoulder, his black hair bouncing up and down with his movements. Roy handed the telegram to the shorter boy, who read it, then looked at us, confusion clouding his already stormy grey eyes. "What are you two going on about? What's bad about this?"
Sighing, Roy reached over and pointed out the incriminating sentence. "Remember our 'code'?" Joey nodded and Roy continued, "this is part is that code. Mr. Holmes obviously knew about it and this is obviously his attempt to alert us that something was wrong." Joey's eyes widened in terror.
"So, what are we going to do?" Joey voiced what we were all thinking.
"The only thing we can do, tell the police." I stated.
"Tell the police what?" Roy said, irritated. "That Mr. Holmes is away? That the only 'proof' we have of his disappearance is a silly code made up by a couple of street kids? We have nothing! They wouldn't believe us, much less listen to us."
"Roy's right," Joey admitted. "The only thing we can do is to help him ourselves." Sighing, I agreed. Together, we made plans to start our investigation the following morning. My job was to go to the police station to find out who the man I saw was. After that, I would pass my information onto Joey and Roy who would then ask around to see if they could find out anything about said man. That night, as I lay on my bedroll under the counter, I could only dream of what would happen when this was all over. Would I be paid? Would we be heroes? Or would we be arrested or something similar. When I woke up, I got changed into a plain blue cotton dress and walked to the police station.
On the way, I thought up possible cover stories for my presence at the police station. After multiple scenarios, I finally settled on saying a thief stole my purse. I had the whole thing planned out in my head. I didn't plan on using the excuse unless I truly had to. I also didn't plan on being in there long. Just long enough to get a name and get out. But, if they did ask me why I was there, I imagine the exchange would go a little like this:
"Miss, is there anything I can help you with?" a police officer might ask.
"Yes! I believe someone stole my purse." I would say, feigning weakness.
Then the police officer would then probably ask if I had a description, and I would tell him to wait a second, as I had written it down. I would then proceed to rummage through my purse, look surprised, and leave. As hard as it is to believe, I thought of all this in the short 10 minute walk to the police station. I slipped in, wincing as my presence was made known by the bell hanging above the door. Walking over to the wall of 'Wanted' sketches, my eyes ran over face after face of unknown and unnerving men until I found the one I recognized. Underneath his sketch was his name. Taking out my pencil and paper, I wrote down the two simple words: 'Byron Sike'. Hastily putting my writing utensils back in my purse and walked towards the door. Thankfully, none of the police officers took much interest in me since I was leaving. Running down the street as fast as my shoes, dress, and gender could allow, I went to get Joey and Roy. Since their bosses would fire them if they saw them talking to me, I just handed them a piece of paper with the name and the time they should meet me at the shop.
At the set time, Joey and Roy walked into my shop. Sitting down, Roy started talking first.
"I started striking up casual conversation at first. Just a question here or there to someone who seemed like they might know what I'm talking about. I got no direct answer, after I asked a group of tough looking men if they ever heard of man called Byron Sikes, and they all said no. As they walked away, I heard one of them men turn to another and say, 'Sikes is back?' Then they all started talking at the same time, telling the first man that 'of course Sikes is back!' and 'ya haven't heard?' I didn't catch the rest of their conversation, just that Sikes usually hangs out in this shady pub called 'The Hydra's Head'." Roy finished, looking quite proud of himself.
Scribbling to write what Roy just said down, I turned to Joey. "Did you hear anything?"
Joey sighed, then began. "I tried my very best, but you know I sell newspapers. That isn't exactly a job where you can make small talk, and I didn't want to shout out his name like it would be in the papers." Roy and I nodded solemnly in agreement. "But I did keep my ears open, and stuck to shadier streets. Alas, I didn't hear anything. I'm sorry Darcy." Joey looked down, as if he had failed.
"It's okay, Joey." I said tenderly, patting him on the shoulder. "You did the best that you could." Joey looked up and gave me a bleak smile. "Now, the next step is to go to the Hydra's Head and see if we can find out anything."
"I'll go. I look older than you two do," Roy volunteered.
"Just be careful, okay?" I asked the redhaired boy. Smiling, he bobbed his head in agreement. "See you tomorrow," I said as the two boys strode out of my store.
The next day was the most normal one since this whole endeavour began. There was no sneaking around, no visits to the police, no threats, nothing really. All there really was to do that day was wait for Roy and Joey to come over. Just before dusk, Roy came running into the shop.
"Do you have any water?" he gasped. I handed him a glass of water and had him sit down before he continued. "I was at that tavern the entire day. I managed to overhear something about a Mr. Sikes and a Mr. Lynch hanging out at the old abandoned warehouse down by the river, but I didn't pay it much attention because I saw Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch walk in. They talked to the bartender for about 5 minutes, then walked out. Naturally, I followed him. They took a roundabout route to the river, and it seemed like that man was telling the truth. They walked into this large abandoned warehouse, number 14 I think, and closed the door behind them. I jogged up to the window and tried to look inside, see if I could see anything. The window was too tall for me to see in, so I stood on a rubbish can near by. After dragging the can over as quietly as possible, I peered into the grimy window. I saw the Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch's backs. They were standing in front of something that I couldn't see, and I craned my neck for a better view. Eventually, they moved aside and I could see Mr. Holmes tied up to a chair! I was so startled that I fell off the rubbish can. It made such a racket that I ran all the way back here for fear that they would investigate and find me out."
Grabbing Roy's shoulders and roughly shaking them I cried, "this is great! Now we don't only know where Mr. Holmes is but we also know Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch's base of operations!" It took all my willpower not to start dancing around the room. "Now that we know things, we can go and get Mr. Holmes! Then he'll help us!" My voice rose higher and higher, shriller and shriller, until I felt like the windows would shatter. Roy just looked at me and Joey covered his ears.
Roy waited for my outburst to be done, then just looked at me sadly. "They're going to move them, Darcy." He said softly, looking into my eyes "They know I was there, they're not going to take that chance."
I realised Roy and slumped down onto the counter, dejected. Hearing a strange sound, I looked again. To my surprise, Roy and Joey were giggling.
"What?!" I demanded incredulously.
"Honestly Darcy! I thought you were smarter than this!" Joey managed to get out between giggles.
"What? What!" I said again, confused and angry.
Sighing and wiping tears from his eyes, Roy said, "it's simple! We just get Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson BEFORE they move them."
"Ooooh!" I said, finally understanding. "So what are we waiting for?"
"Just for you to understand," Joey said grinning. I grabbed my coat and we ran out the door. On the way there, Roy stopped to grab some rope from a very suspicious looking stack of objects. Not questioning him, we just kept on going.
"Over here!" Roy called, gesturing to an old abandoned warehouse. The warehouse was, like I said, old and abandoned. The paint was peeling off and the hinges on the huge bay doors were almost rusted through. There was a smaller door, though, with a single grimy glass pane. Roy led us to that door, and we tried the handle.
"It's locked!" Joey groaned, looking defeated.
"Oh, how you doubt me," Roy said grinning, pulling a set of lock-picks.
"Roy! That's illegal!" I whispered angrily.
"Well, so is kidnapping!" he countered. Shrugging because he had a point, stepped aside and let him unlock the door. Once the door was unlocked, Roy pushed it open, it's hinges creaking loudly.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice echoing throughout the building. Roy and Joey elbowed me to remind me to be quiet. A muffled voice rang out in return. Gesturing madly to Roy and Joey, I crouched down behind a bunch of old boxes and ran toward the sound of the voice. Eventually, we could see the wooden chairs in which Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson were tied up. The chairs were tied up in the 'classic' position. One back of the chair was tied to the other, so neither of the men could see each other, but that didn't keep them from arguing.
"Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?" I heard a voice that I recognized as Doctor Watson said.
"You know perfectly well why! There was a problem and we couldn't just leave it!" Mr. Holmes voice replied, obviously annoyed.
"We? It was you!" Doctor Watson practically shouted.
"It's them all right," Joey said, as we all shook with silent laughter. Stepping out from behind out cover, we ran over and started untying the knots.
"Kids! What are you doing here?!" Doctor Watson sounded appalled.
"Helping us, obviously," Holmes said dryly. When we got all the knots untied, we all ran out of the building. Locking the door behind us, Roy and I ran to the police station while Holmes, Watson, and Joey stayed back to wait for Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch. We told the police everything we knew and they agreed to post an officer outside that warehouse.
Walking out, Roy turned to me and said, "I can't believe that we're almost done! That the bad guys will be caught, finally!"
Grinning back, I replied, "yeah,and it only took a of couple weeks." We laughed and walked back to the warehouse talking. We told Holmes, Watson, and Joey what happened down at the police station, and we all waited by the warehouse together for the police officer. Two days, later, I got a telegram.
Dear Miss McGrew,
We are pleased to inform you that the men you had reported to us previously have been arrested and put into custody. Mr. Sikes and Mr Lynch will no longer be bothering you. They will no longer be bothering anyone.
Sincerely,
Scotland Yard
July 26, 2014,
An Irregular Story
The hollow sounds of horse and carriages echo down the street. People stream by, going on about their daily business, not sparing a thought for me. I guess I can't blame them, seeing as there are plenty of shops on my street, but I thought I was sort of special, seeing as I was the only one who made and sold personalized perfumes and colognes. You see, I take orders on what smell to make, and then I make it. An interesting profession, I know, but there aren't many jobs for an unmarried and non-courting girl of 16 in London. My parents had died when I was very young, not even 5 years old. I was then shipped off to a terrible orphanage with a terrible director. I escaped from there when I was 10 and have been living on the street ever since. 3 years ago, I met an interesting man. This man offered me a cash reward for reporting troubles and helping with his cases around my home street. I earned enough cash from this to open up my shop, and I also earned the title of a Baker Street Irregular.
One day, I saw a particular suspicious man that I recognized from the police station sketches. As soon as I saw him, I closed up shop and ran as possible to 221B Baker Street, where the man lived, who goes by the name Sherlock Holmes. Once I arrived, I knocked on the door.
"Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson are you in there?!" I called.
"Gracious child, what's the matter?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she opened the door. Once she saw me, her eyes widened in recognition. "Darcy? What's going on? Is it just you?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. It's just me. I would like to talk to Mr. Holmes. Is that possible?" I inquired hopefully.
"Sorry, dear. Mr. Holmes is off on a case this week." Mrs. Hudson answered, sympathetically.
"Doctor Watson then?" I pressed.
"He went with Mr. Holmes. Whatever is the matter dear? Is it anything I can help you with?"
"I just saw one of the men that the police have drawings of." Words came tumbling out of my mouth.
"Where?" Mrs. Hudson seemed taken aback.
"In the police station."
"No, I meant where did you see the man?"
"One street over, just outside of my shop."
"Well, seeing as how both Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson are incapacitated are the present moment, you're going to have to take this matter to the police." Mrs. Hudson then gave me one last apologetic look and shut the door. Sighing, I turned around and walked back to my store.
When I got back to the store, an unknown man walked in. I rarely get new customers, in fact I rarely get customers at all. The man looked to be about 25 years of age, medium build, with short dirty blond hair. He looked at me with a long, questioning look. I could just imagine what I must look like to a random stranger: A lanky girl of 16, alone in a shop, wearing a simple cotton dress and apron, not to mention having a strange business. Still looking suspicious
he cleared his throat.
"Is this 'Euphoria'?" he asked in a smooth, soft voice, like chocolate.
"Um, yes it is. Is there anything I can help you with?" I replied, a little nervous.
"I hear you make custom scents." he continued, his voice floating through the air, almost hypnotic.
"Yes, I-I do," I stuttered, taking out a notepad and a pen. "Do you have a name?"
"Of course," he said, irritated. "People call me Mr. Lynch."
"Thank you, and your order?" I say absentmindedly, relaxing a little as I scribbled down words on my notepad. Next thing I knew, Mr. Lynch had me up against the wall, with a knife to my throat.
"My order would be for you to keep your small adolescent nose out of other people's business." Mr. Lynch growled.
"I don't know what you mean," I gasped.
"Yes, you do. You saw him walking down the street today and immediately ran to Mr. Holmes. Well, he's not here to help you this time, I made sure of that." Mr. Lynch put his knife away and started to leave. Right before he got to the door he turned around, "oh, and make sure you stay away from this whole affair or else the knife will go deeper next time." With that he left the store. I leaned against the counter to steady myself, a small throbbing in my neck where the knife had been placed was the only evidence that the entire exchange ever happened. Putting out my candles, I went behind my counter and pulled out my bed roll. Laying down, I fell into a restless, fitful sleep of nightmares about Mr. Lynch coming back and stabbing me in the middle of the night. The next morning, I went to talk to the other Irregulars.
I met Joey on the street corner, where he was selling newspapers. I waved him over to me and he jogged over.
"Hey Darcy," he said as he ran around the corner. We were standing in an alley between a flower shop and a tailors. "What's going on?"
"I need your help." I said.
"Help? Help for what?" Joey was genuinely perplexed.
"I saw a man yesterday, one of the ones that the police are looking for. Then, last evening I was threatened in my shop." I looked at Joey, who still looked confused.
"Shouldn't we go tell Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson?"
"I tried that, but Mrs. Hudson said they were out of town. Mr. Lynch said that he was the one who sent them out." I was a little annoyed with Joey. He could either help me or he couldn't.
"Mr. Lynch?" Joey still looked confused.
"The one who threatened me yesterday." I felt like I was done explaining, but with Joey you could never tell. Joey nodded and looked over his shoulder. A few minutes later, I was on my way with the promise of Joey meeting me later at my shop, along with the other Irregulars. That evening, I was sitting on the counter in my shop, Euphoria, surrounded by Joey, Matt, Fred, and Roy. After retelling the story that I had told them earlier that day, I waited for their questions. Roy spoke up first.
"So, tell me again why we can't talk to Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson?" Roy sounded annoyed.
"I already told you a million times! They're out of town because of something Mr. Lynch did!" no matter how annoyed Roy sounded, I sounded much more so.
"Well, if the Doctor and the Mister aren't here, then I don't see how we are supposed to help." Fred said next. The little kid was the youngest of us 5, but that didn't mean he couldn't keep up with us older children.
"We help every other time don't we?" I asked, exasperated.
Matt sighed, "Darcy, I wish I could help you. I really do, but without the Mister and the Doctor I think we should just bring this matter to the police." Matt looked down at his watch, "I have to be going. I'm sorry again Darcy." With that, he turned around and left the store. After Matt left, Fred looked very uncomfortable.
"Is there something you want to say?" I peered into Fred's face, as he turned away.
"I have to go too," Fred muttered. "I'm so sorry Darcy, I just don't want to get in trouble with the police. I can't let them take me back, and Mr. Holmes isn't here to help me this time." With his head hanging low, the little boy walked out of the shop and raced to catch up with Matt.
"Well, what about you two?" I asked incredulously.
Roy looked up into my eyes, and I stared down into his deep blue eyes, he spoke softly. "Darcy," as he continued to speak his voice got louder and more excited, "there is absolutely no possible way that you can ever talk me out of this! I mean, it's cool enough to work on cases with Mr. Holmes, but all by ourselves? This is the best!" Roy looked practically giddy with excitement by the time he was done speaking.
I turned to Joey, "Joey? What about you? Are you in this with us?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Definitely! What are we talking about again?" Joey said, looking confused and out of it. Laughing, Roy and I caught him up on everything that had happened in the past ten minutes, because he seemed to have blanked out. By the time everyone had to go home, we had already made plans to meet up the next day.
The next day was business as usual, which meant that there was no business, like usual. I spent the day making perfumes, colognes, and notes. The perfumes and colognes were for customers, and the notes were for our case. Around noon, Mrs. Hudson walked in. Surprised, I walked around the counter.
"Hi, Mrs. Hudson, is there anything I can help you with?" I asked politely.
"Yes, dear. You see, after our talk the other day, I telegraphed Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson." Mrs. Hudson said, fidgeting a little. "I just wanted him to know what was going on in his absence. The problem is, I got another telegram back today that doesn't sound like him at all." Mrs. Hudson handed me a telegram. "It's addressed to you." I opened it up and read it.
Dear Miss McGrew,
I regret to inform you that there is nothing that I can do to help you on this little 'case' of yours. This matter should be brought before the police right now, if you haven't told them already. Don't be worried if you haven't, though. A high profile criminal like the one you saw surely would have been spotted by other London citizens, and taken care of already. Even if this is not the case, I urge you to NOT go investigating on your own, or with any of the other Irregulars. I don't want you or anyone else getting hurt. Stay out of this, and pretend you never saw the man. If you go asking questions, he will know you saw him, and if he knows you saw him, he will come after you. So heed my words, Miss Darcy McGrew, and stay out of trouble.
Sincerely,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes
I stared at the letter in shock, reading and rereading it. I shook my head, my brown braids moving only slightly. "That doesn't sound like Mr. Holmes at all!"
"I know," Mrs. Hudson's voice was soft and scared. "That's what worries me." Studying the note closer, I remember the signal the Irregulars in I used to put in our notes to each other when we were helping Mr. Holmes with a case.
"Look!" I gasped. "The other Irregulars and I made up a code for our notes to each other, Mr. Holmes obviously knew about. The code was quite simple actually, and anyone taking the time to study our notes to each other could figure it out. All you do is write one sentence, and then capitalize the one word that you don't mean. So, 'I urge you to NOT go investigating on your own, or with any of the other Irregulars' is that sentence. Take out the NOT and it tells us to go investigating. Sounds stupid, I know, but that was his one way to hint that this isn't right!"
"Do you think?" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.
"Yes, I do, and if you don't mind Mrs. Hudson, I would like to go show this to the other Irregulars." I nodded to Mrs. Hudson and followed her out the store, locking up behind me. I ran down the street and got Joey, then told him to go get Roy. After Joey collected Roy they made their way over to my shop. Just as before, I was sitting on the counter, but this time with Joey and Roy sitting on either side of me. Jumping down from the counter, I handed Roy the telegram.
The red hair boy looked at it then stared at me, his brownish red hair falling in front of his eyes. "This isn't good. This is not good."
"Can I see?" Joey tried to peer over Roy's shoulder, his black hair bouncing up and down with his movements. Roy handed the telegram to the shorter boy, who read it, then looked at us, confusion clouding his already stormy grey eyes. "What are you two going on about? What's bad about this?"
Sighing, Roy reached over and pointed out the incriminating sentence. "Remember our 'code'?" Joey nodded and Roy continued, "this is part is that code. Mr. Holmes obviously knew about it and this is obviously his attempt to alert us that something was wrong." Joey's eyes widened in terror.
"So, what are we going to do?" Joey voiced what we were all thinking.
"The only thing we can do, tell the police." I stated.
"Tell the police what?" Roy said, irritated. "That Mr. Holmes is away? That the only 'proof' we have of his disappearance is a silly code made up by a couple of street kids? We have nothing! They wouldn't believe us, much less listen to us."
"Roy's right," Joey admitted. "The only thing we can do is to help him ourselves." Sighing, I agreed. Together, we made plans to start our investigation the following morning. My job was to go to the police station to find out who the man I saw was. After that, I would pass my information onto Joey and Roy who would then ask around to see if they could find out anything about said man. That night, as I lay on my bedroll under the counter, I could only dream of what would happen when this was all over. Would I be paid? Would we be heroes? Or would we be arrested or something similar. When I woke up, I got changed into a plain blue cotton dress and walked to the police station.
On the way, I thought up possible cover stories for my presence at the police station. After multiple scenarios, I finally settled on saying a thief stole my purse. I had the whole thing planned out in my head. I didn't plan on using the excuse unless I truly had to. I also didn't plan on being in there long. Just long enough to get a name and get out. But, if they did ask me why I was there, I imagine the exchange would go a little like this:
"Miss, is there anything I can help you with?" a police officer might ask.
"Yes! I believe someone stole my purse." I would say, feigning weakness.
Then the police officer would then probably ask if I had a description, and I would tell him to wait a second, as I had written it down. I would then proceed to rummage through my purse, look surprised, and leave. As hard as it is to believe, I thought of all this in the short 10 minute walk to the police station. I slipped in, wincing as my presence was made known by the bell hanging above the door. Walking over to the wall of 'Wanted' sketches, my eyes ran over face after face of unknown and unnerving men until I found the one I recognized. Underneath his sketch was his name. Taking out my pencil and paper, I wrote down the two simple words: 'Byron Sike'. Hastily putting my writing utensils back in my purse and walked towards the door. Thankfully, none of the police officers took much interest in me since I was leaving. Running down the street as fast as my shoes, dress, and gender could allow, I went to get Joey and Roy. Since their bosses would fire them if they saw them talking to me, I just handed them a piece of paper with the name and the time they should meet me at the shop.
At the set time, Joey and Roy walked into my shop. Sitting down, Roy started talking first.
"I started striking up casual conversation at first. Just a question here or there to someone who seemed like they might know what I'm talking about. I got no direct answer, after I asked a group of tough looking men if they ever heard of man called Byron Sikes, and they all said no. As they walked away, I heard one of them men turn to another and say, 'Sikes is back?' Then they all started talking at the same time, telling the first man that 'of course Sikes is back!' and 'ya haven't heard?' I didn't catch the rest of their conversation, just that Sikes usually hangs out in this shady pub called 'The Hydra's Head'." Roy finished, looking quite proud of himself.
Scribbling to write what Roy just said down, I turned to Joey. "Did you hear anything?"
Joey sighed, then began. "I tried my very best, but you know I sell newspapers. That isn't exactly a job where you can make small talk, and I didn't want to shout out his name like it would be in the papers." Roy and I nodded solemnly in agreement. "But I did keep my ears open, and stuck to shadier streets. Alas, I didn't hear anything. I'm sorry Darcy." Joey looked down, as if he had failed.
"It's okay, Joey." I said tenderly, patting him on the shoulder. "You did the best that you could." Joey looked up and gave me a bleak smile. "Now, the next step is to go to the Hydra's Head and see if we can find out anything."
"I'll go. I look older than you two do," Roy volunteered.
"Just be careful, okay?" I asked the redhaired boy. Smiling, he bobbed his head in agreement. "See you tomorrow," I said as the two boys strode out of my store.
The next day was the most normal one since this whole endeavour began. There was no sneaking around, no visits to the police, no threats, nothing really. All there really was to do that day was wait for Roy and Joey to come over. Just before dusk, Roy came running into the shop.
"Do you have any water?" he gasped. I handed him a glass of water and had him sit down before he continued. "I was at that tavern the entire day. I managed to overhear something about a Mr. Sikes and a Mr. Lynch hanging out at the old abandoned warehouse down by the river, but I didn't pay it much attention because I saw Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch walk in. They talked to the bartender for about 5 minutes, then walked out. Naturally, I followed him. They took a roundabout route to the river, and it seemed like that man was telling the truth. They walked into this large abandoned warehouse, number 14 I think, and closed the door behind them. I jogged up to the window and tried to look inside, see if I could see anything. The window was too tall for me to see in, so I stood on a rubbish can near by. After dragging the can over as quietly as possible, I peered into the grimy window. I saw the Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch's backs. They were standing in front of something that I couldn't see, and I craned my neck for a better view. Eventually, they moved aside and I could see Mr. Holmes tied up to a chair! I was so startled that I fell off the rubbish can. It made such a racket that I ran all the way back here for fear that they would investigate and find me out."
Grabbing Roy's shoulders and roughly shaking them I cried, "this is great! Now we don't only know where Mr. Holmes is but we also know Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch's base of operations!" It took all my willpower not to start dancing around the room. "Now that we know things, we can go and get Mr. Holmes! Then he'll help us!" My voice rose higher and higher, shriller and shriller, until I felt like the windows would shatter. Roy just looked at me and Joey covered his ears.
Roy waited for my outburst to be done, then just looked at me sadly. "They're going to move them, Darcy." He said softly, looking into my eyes "They know I was there, they're not going to take that chance."
I realised Roy and slumped down onto the counter, dejected. Hearing a strange sound, I looked again. To my surprise, Roy and Joey were giggling.
"What?!" I demanded incredulously.
"Honestly Darcy! I thought you were smarter than this!" Joey managed to get out between giggles.
"What? What!" I said again, confused and angry.
Sighing and wiping tears from his eyes, Roy said, "it's simple! We just get Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson BEFORE they move them."
"Ooooh!" I said, finally understanding. "So what are we waiting for?"
"Just for you to understand," Joey said grinning. I grabbed my coat and we ran out the door. On the way there, Roy stopped to grab some rope from a very suspicious looking stack of objects. Not questioning him, we just kept on going.
"Over here!" Roy called, gesturing to an old abandoned warehouse. The warehouse was, like I said, old and abandoned. The paint was peeling off and the hinges on the huge bay doors were almost rusted through. There was a smaller door, though, with a single grimy glass pane. Roy led us to that door, and we tried the handle.
"It's locked!" Joey groaned, looking defeated.
"Oh, how you doubt me," Roy said grinning, pulling a set of lock-picks.
"Roy! That's illegal!" I whispered angrily.
"Well, so is kidnapping!" he countered. Shrugging because he had a point, stepped aside and let him unlock the door. Once the door was unlocked, Roy pushed it open, it's hinges creaking loudly.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice echoing throughout the building. Roy and Joey elbowed me to remind me to be quiet. A muffled voice rang out in return. Gesturing madly to Roy and Joey, I crouched down behind a bunch of old boxes and ran toward the sound of the voice. Eventually, we could see the wooden chairs in which Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson were tied up. The chairs were tied up in the 'classic' position. One back of the chair was tied to the other, so neither of the men could see each other, but that didn't keep them from arguing.
"Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?" I heard a voice that I recognized as Doctor Watson said.
"You know perfectly well why! There was a problem and we couldn't just leave it!" Mr. Holmes voice replied, obviously annoyed.
"We? It was you!" Doctor Watson practically shouted.
"It's them all right," Joey said, as we all shook with silent laughter. Stepping out from behind out cover, we ran over and started untying the knots.
"Kids! What are you doing here?!" Doctor Watson sounded appalled.
"Helping us, obviously," Holmes said dryly. When we got all the knots untied, we all ran out of the building. Locking the door behind us, Roy and I ran to the police station while Holmes, Watson, and Joey stayed back to wait for Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch. We told the police everything we knew and they agreed to post an officer outside that warehouse.
Walking out, Roy turned to me and said, "I can't believe that we're almost done! That the bad guys will be caught, finally!"
Grinning back, I replied, "yeah,and it only took a of couple weeks." We laughed and walked back to the warehouse talking. We told Holmes, Watson, and Joey what happened down at the police station, and we all waited by the warehouse together for the police officer. Two days, later, I got a telegram.
Dear Miss McGrew,
We are pleased to inform you that the men you had reported to us previously have been arrested and put into custody. Mr. Sikes and Mr Lynch will no longer be bothering you. They will no longer be bothering anyone.
Sincerely,
Scotland Yard July 26, 2014,
An Irregular Story
The hollow sounds of horse and carriages echo down the street. People stream by, going on about their daily business, not sparing a thought for me. I guess I can't blame them, seeing as there are plenty of shops on my street, but I thought I was sort of special, seeing as I was the only one who made and sold personalized perfumes and colognes. You see, I take orders on what smell to make, and then I make it. An interesting profession, I know, but there aren't many jobs for an unmarried and non-courting girl of 16 in London. My parents had died when I was very young, not even 5 years old. I was then shipped off to a terrible orphanage with a terrible director. I escaped from there when I was 10 and have been living on the street ever since. 3 years ago, I met an interesting man. This man offered me a cash reward for reporting troubles and helping with his cases around my home street. I earned enough cash from this to open up my shop, and I also earned the title of a Baker Street Irregular.
One day, I saw a particular suspicious man that I recognized from the police station sketches. As soon as I saw him, I closed up shop and ran as possible to 221B Baker Street, where the man lived, who goes by the name Sherlock Holmes. Once I arrived, I knocked on the door.
"Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson are you in there?!" I called.
"Gracious child, what's the matter?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she opened the door. Once she saw me, her eyes widened in recognition. "Darcy? What's going on? Is it just you?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. It's just me. I would like to talk to Mr. Holmes. Is that possible?" I inquired hopefully.
"Sorry, dear. Mr. Holmes is off on a case this week." Mrs. Hudson answered, sympathetically.
"Doctor Watson then?" I pressed.
"He went with Mr. Holmes. Whatever is the matter dear? Is it anything I can help you with?"
"I just saw one of the men that the police have drawings of." Words came tumbling out of my mouth.
"Where?" Mrs. Hudson seemed taken aback.
"In the police station."
"No, I meant where did you see the man?"
"One street over, just outside of my shop."
"Well, seeing as how both Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson are incapacitated are the present moment, you're going to have to take this matter to the police." Mrs. Hudson then gave me one last apologetic look and shut the door. Sighing, I turned around and walked back to my store.
When I got back to the store, an unknown man walked in. I rarely get new customers, in fact I rarely get customers at all. The man looked to be about 25 years of age, medium build, with short dirty blond hair. He looked at me with a long, questioning look. I could just imagine what I must look like to a random stranger: A lanky girl of 16, alone in a shop, wearing a simple cotton dress and apron, not to mention having a strange business. Still looking suspicious
he cleared his throat.
"Is this 'Euphoria'?" he asked in a smooth, soft voice, like chocolate.
"Um, yes it is. Is there anything I can help you with?" I replied, a little nervous.
"I hear you make custom scents." he continued, his voice floating through the air, almost hypnotic.
"Yes, I-I do," I stuttered, taking out a notepad and a pen. "Do you have a name?"
"Of course," he said, irritated. "People call me Mr. Lynch."
"Thank you, and your order?" I say absentmindedly, relaxing a little as I scribbled down words on my notepad. Next thing I knew, Mr. Lynch had me up against the wall, with a knife to my throat.
"My order would be for you to keep your small adolescent nose out of other people's business." Mr. Lynch growled.
"I don't know what you mean," I gasped.
"Yes, you do. You saw him walking down the street today and immediately ran to Mr. Holmes. Well, he's not here to help you this time, I made sure of that." Mr. Lynch put his knife away and started to leave. Right before he got to the door he turned around, "oh, and make sure you stay away from this whole affair or else the knife will go deeper next time." With that he left the store. I leaned against the counter to steady myself, a small throbbing in my neck where the knife had been placed was the only evidence that the entire exchange ever happened. Putting out my candles, I went behind my counter and pulled out my bed roll. Laying down, I fell into a restless, fitful sleep of nightmares about Mr. Lynch coming back and stabbing me in the middle of the night. The next morning, I went to talk to the other Irregulars.
I met Joey on the street corner, where he was selling newspapers. I waved him over to me and he jogged over.
"Hey Darcy," he said as he ran around the corner. We were standing in an alley between a flower shop and a tailors. "What's going on?"
"I need your help." I said.
"Help? Help for what?" Joey was genuinely perplexed.
"I saw a man yesterday, one of the ones that the police are looking for. Then, last evening I was threatened in my shop." I looked at Joey, who still looked confused.
"Shouldn't we go tell Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson?"
"I tried that, but Mrs. Hudson said they were out of town. Mr. Lynch said that he was the one who sent them out." I was a little annoyed with Joey. He could either help me or he couldn't.
"Mr. Lynch?" Joey still looked confused.
"The one who threatened me yesterday." I felt like I was done explaining, but with Joey you could never tell. Joey nodded and looked over his shoulder. A few minutes later, I was on my way with the promise of Joey meeting me later at my shop, along with the other Irregulars. That evening, I was sitting on the counter in my shop, Euphoria, surrounded by Joey, Matt, Fred, and Roy. After retelling the story that I had told them earlier that day, I waited for their questions. Roy spoke up first.
"So, tell me again why we can't talk to Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson?" Roy sounded annoyed.
"I already told you a million times! They're out of town because of something Mr. Lynch did!" no matter how annoyed Roy sounded, I sounded much more so.
"Well, if the Doctor and the Mister aren't here, then I don't see how we are supposed to help." Fred said next. The little kid was the youngest of us 5, but that didn't mean he couldn't keep up with us older children.
"We help every other time don't we?" I asked, exasperated.
Matt sighed, "Darcy, I wish I could help you. I really do, but without the Mister and the Doctor I think we should just bring this matter to the police." Matt looked down at his watch, "I have to be going. I'm sorry again Darcy." With that, he turned around and left the store. After Matt left, Fred looked very uncomfortable.
"Is there something you want to say?" I peered into Fred's face, as he turned away.
"I have to go too," Fred muttered. "I'm so sorry Darcy, I just don't want to get in trouble with the police. I can't let them take me back, and Mr. Holmes isn't here to help me this time." With his head hanging low, the little boy walked out of the shop and raced to catch up with Matt.
"Well, what about you two?" I asked incredulously.
Roy looked up into my eyes, and I stared down into his deep blue eyes, he spoke softly. "Darcy," as he continued to speak his voice got louder and more excited, "there is absolutely no possible way that you can ever talk me out of this! I mean, it's cool enough to work on cases with Mr. Holmes, but all by ourselves? This is the best!" Roy looked practically giddy with excitement by the time he was done speaking.
I turned to Joey, "Joey? What about you? Are you in this with us?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Definitely! What are we talking about again?" Joey said, looking confused and out of it. Laughing, Roy and I caught him up on everything that had happened in the past ten minutes, because he seemed to have blanked out. By the time everyone had to go home, we had already made plans to meet up the next day.
The next day was business as usual, which meant that there was no business, like usual. I spent the day making perfumes, colognes, and notes. The perfumes and colognes were for customers, and the notes were for our case. Around noon, Mrs. Hudson walked in. Surprised, I walked around the counter.
"Hi, Mrs. Hudson, is there anything I can help you with?" I asked politely.
"Yes, dear. You see, after our talk the other day, I telegraphed Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson." Mrs. Hudson said, fidgeting a little. "I just wanted him to know what was going on in his absence. The problem is, I got another telegram back today that doesn't sound like him at all." Mrs. Hudson handed me a telegram. "It's addressed to you." I opened it up and read it.
Dear Miss McGrew,
I regret to inform you that there is nothing that I can do to help you on this little 'case' of yours. This matter should be brought before the police right now, if you haven't told them already. Don't be worried if you haven't, though. A high profile criminal like the one you saw surely would have been spotted by other London citizens, and taken care of already. Even if this is not the case, I urge you to NOT go investigating on your own, or with any of the other Irregulars. I don't want you or anyone else getting hurt. Stay out of this, and pretend you never saw the man. If you go asking questions, he will know you saw him, and if he knows you saw him, he will come after you. So heed my words, Miss Darcy McGrew, and stay out of trouble.
Sincerely,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes
I stared at the letter in shock, reading and rereading it. I shook my head, my brown braids moving only slightly. "That doesn't sound like Mr. Holmes at all!"
"I know," Mrs. Hudson's voice was soft and scared. "That's what worries me." Studying the note closer, I remember the signal the Irregulars in I used to put in our notes to each other when we were helping Mr. Holmes with a case.
"Look!" I gasped. "The other Irregulars and I made up a code for our notes to each other, Mr. Holmes obviously knew about. The code was quite simple actually, and anyone taking the time to study our notes to each other could figure it out. All you do is write one sentence, and then capitalize the one word that you don't mean. So, 'I urge you to NOT go investigating on your own, or with any of the other Irregulars' is that sentence. Take out the NOT and it tells us to go investigating. Sounds stupid, I know, but that was his one way to hint that this isn't right!"
"Do you think?" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.
"Yes, I do, and if you don't mind Mrs. Hudson, I would like to go show this to the other Irregulars." I nodded to Mrs. Hudson and followed her out the store, locking up behind me. I ran down the street and got Joey, then told him to go get Roy. After Joey collected Roy they made their way over to my shop. Just as before, I was sitting on the counter, but this time with Joey and Roy sitting on either side of me. Jumping down from the counter, I handed Roy the telegram.
The red hair boy looked at it then stared at me, his brownish red hair falling in front of his eyes. "This isn't good. This is not good."
"Can I see?" Joey tried to peer over Roy's shoulder, his black hair bouncing up and down with his movements. Roy handed the telegram to the shorter boy, who read it, then looked at us, confusion clouding his already stormy grey eyes. "What are you two going on about? What's bad about this?"
Sighing, Roy reached over and pointed out the incriminating sentence. "Remember our 'code'?" Joey nodded and Roy continued, "this is part is that code. Mr. Holmes obviously knew about it and this is obviously his attempt to alert us that something was wrong." Joey's eyes widened in terror.
"So, what are we going to do?" Joey voiced what we were all thinking.
"The only thing we can do, tell the police." I stated.
"Tell the police what?" Roy said, irritated. "That Mr. Holmes is away? That the only 'proof' we have of his disappearance is a silly code made up by a couple of street kids? We have nothing! They wouldn't believe us, much less listen to us."
"Roy's right," Joey admitted. "The only thing we can do is to help him ourselves." Sighing, I agreed. Together, we made plans to start our investigation the following morning. My job was to go to the police station to find out who the man I saw was. After that, I would pass my information onto Joey and Roy who would then ask around to see if they could find out anything about said man. That night, as I lay on my bedroll under the counter, I could only dream of what would happen when this was all over. Would I be paid? Would we be heroes? Or would we be arrested or something similar. When I woke up, I got changed into a plain blue cotton dress and walked to the police station.
On the way, I thought up possible cover stories for my presence at the police station. After multiple scenarios, I finally settled on saying a thief stole my purse. I had the whole thing planned out in my head. I didn't plan on using the excuse unless I truly had to. I also didn't plan on being in there long. Just long enough to get a name and get out. But, if they did ask me why I was there, I imagine the exchange would go a little like this:
"Miss, is there anything I can help you with?" a police officer might ask.
"Yes! I believe someone stole my purse." I would say, feigning weakness.
Then the police officer would then probably ask if I had a description, and I would tell him to wait a second, as I had written it down. I would then proceed to rummage through my purse, look surprised, and leave. As hard as it is to believe, I thought of all this in the short 10 minute walk to the police station. I slipped in, wincing as my presence was made known by the bell hanging above the door. Walking over to the wall of 'Wanted' sketches, my eyes ran over face after face of unknown and unnerving men until I found the one I recognized. Underneath his sketch was his name. Taking out my pencil and paper, I wrote down the two simple words: 'Byron Sike'. Hastily putting my writing utensils back in my purse and walked towards the door. Thankfully, none of the police officers took much interest in me since I was leaving. Running down the street as fast as my shoes, dress, and gender could allow, I went to get Joey and Roy. Since their bosses would fire them if they saw them talking to me, I just handed them a piece of paper with the name and the time they should meet me at the shop.
At the set time, Joey and Roy walked into my shop. Sitting down, Roy started talking first.
"I started striking up casual conversation at first. Just a question here or there to someone who seemed like they might know what I'm talking about. I got no direct answer, after I asked a group of tough looking men if they ever heard of man called Byron Sikes, and they all said no. As they walked away, I heard one of them men turn to another and say, 'Sikes is back?' Then they all started talking at the same time, telling the first man that 'of course Sikes is back!' and 'ya haven't heard?' I didn't catch the rest of their conversation, just that Sikes usually hangs out in this shady pub called 'The Hydra's Head'." Roy finished, looking quite proud of himself.
Scribbling to write what Roy just said down, I turned to Joey. "Did you hear anything?"
Joey sighed, then began. "I tried my very best, but you know I sell newspapers. That isn't exactly a job where you can make small talk, and I didn't want to shout out his name like it would be in the papers." Roy and I nodded solemnly in agreement. "But I did keep my ears open, and stuck to shadier streets. Alas, I didn't hear anything. I'm sorry Darcy." Joey looked down, as if he had failed.
"It's okay, Joey." I said tenderly, patting him on the shoulder. "You did the best that you could." Joey looked up and gave me a bleak smile. "Now, the next step is to go to the Hydra's Head and see if we can find out anything."
"I'll go. I look older than you two do," Roy volunteered.
"Just be careful, okay?" I asked the redhaired boy. Smiling, he bobbed his head in agreement. "See you tomorrow," I said as the two boys strode out of my store.
The next day was the most normal one since this whole endeavour began. There was no sneaking around, no visits to the police, no threats, nothing really. All there really was to do that day was wait for Roy and Joey to come over. Just before dusk, Roy came running into the shop.
"Do you have any water?" he gasped. I handed him a glass of water and had him sit down before he continued. "I was at that tavern the entire day. I managed to overhear something about a Mr. Sikes and a Mr. Lynch hanging out at the old abandoned warehouse down by the river, but I didn't pay it much attention because I saw Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch walk in. They talked to the bartender for about 5 minutes, then walked out. Naturally, I followed him. They took a roundabout route to the river, and it seemed like that man was telling the truth. They walked into this large abandoned warehouse, number 14 I think, and closed the door behind them. I jogged up to the window and tried to look inside, see if I could see anything. The window was too tall for me to see in, so I stood on a rubbish can near by. After dragging the can over as quietly as possible, I peered into the grimy window. I saw the Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch's backs. They were standing in front of something that I couldn't see, and I craned my neck for a better view. Eventually, they moved aside and I could see Mr. Holmes tied up to a chair! I was so startled that I fell off the rubbish can. It made such a racket that I ran all the way back here for fear that they would investigate and find me out."
Grabbing Roy's shoulders and roughly shaking them I cried, "this is great! Now we don't only know where Mr. Holmes is but we also know Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch's base of operations!" It took all my willpower not to start dancing around the room. "Now that we know things, we can go and get Mr. Holmes! Then he'll help us!" My voice rose higher and higher, shriller and shriller, until I felt like the windows would shatter. Roy just looked at me and Joey covered his ears.
Roy waited for my outburst to be done, then just looked at me sadly. "They're going to move them, Darcy." He said softly, looking into my eyes "They know I was there, they're not going to take that chance."
I realised Roy and slumped down onto the counter, dejected. Hearing a strange sound, I looked again. To my surprise, Roy and Joey were giggling.
"What?!" I demanded incredulously.
"Honestly Darcy! I thought you were smarter than this!" Joey managed to get out between giggles.
"What? What!" I said again, confused and angry.
Sighing and wiping tears from his eyes, Roy said, "it's simple! We just get Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson BEFORE they move them."
"Ooooh!" I said, finally understanding. "So what are we waiting for?"
"Just for you to understand," Joey said grinning. I grabbed my coat and we ran out the door. On the way there, Roy stopped to grab some rope from a very suspicious looking stack of objects. Not questioning him, we just kept on going.
"Over here!" Roy called, gesturing to an old abandoned warehouse. The warehouse was, like I said, old and abandoned. The paint was peeling off and the hinges on the huge bay doors were almost rusted through. There was a smaller door, though, with a single grimy glass pane. Roy led us to that door, and we tried the handle.
"It's locked!" Joey groaned, looking defeated.
"Oh, how you doubt me," Roy said grinning, pulling a set of lock-picks.
"Roy! That's illegal!" I whispered angrily.
"Well, so is kidnapping!" he countered. Shrugging because he had a point, stepped aside and let him unlock the door. Once the door was unlocked, Roy pushed it open, it's hinges creaking loudly.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice echoing throughout the building. Roy and Joey elbowed me to remind me to be quiet. A muffled voice rang out in return. Gesturing madly to Roy and Joey, I crouched down behind a bunch of old boxes and ran toward the sound of the voice. Eventually, we could see the wooden chairs in which Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson were tied up. The chairs were tied up in the 'classic' position. One back of the chair was tied to the other, so neither of the men could see each other, but that didn't keep them from arguing.
"Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?" I heard a voice that I recognized as Doctor Watson said.
"You know perfectly well why! There was a problem and we couldn't just leave it!" Mr. Holmes voice replied, obviously annoyed.
"We? It was you!" Doctor Watson practically shouted.
"It's them all right," Joey said, as we all shook with silent laughter. Stepping out from behind out cover, we ran over and started untying the knots.
"Kids! What are you doing here?!" Doctor Watson sounded appalled.
"Helping us, obviously," Holmes said dryly. When we got all the knots untied, we all ran out of the building. Locking the door behind us, Roy and I ran to the police station while Holmes, Watson, and Joey stayed back to wait for Mr. Sikes and Mr. Lynch. We told the police everything we knew and they agreed to post an officer outside that warehouse.
Walking out, Roy turned to me and said, "I can't believe that we're almost done! That the bad guys will be caught, finally!"
Grinning back, I replied, "yeah,and it only took a of couple weeks." We laughed and walked back to the warehouse talking. We told Holmes, Watson, and Joey what happened down at the police station, and we all waited by the warehouse together for the police officer. Two days, later, I got a telegram.
Dear Miss McGrew,
We are pleased to inform you that the men you had reported to us previously have been arrested and put into custody. Mr. Sikes and Mr Lynch will no longer be bothering you. They will no longer be bothering anyone.
Sincerely,
Scotland Yard
A Day For Doing Things
Today is a day for doing things,
For getting wet and working on blogs,
A day full of wonder,water,and wet,
A day meant for wadding through bogs.
Today is day just for doing things,
Like reading and making strange rhymes,
A day built for checkers, marbles or chess,
So please dear don't waste your time...
I'm working on my laptop today, after not being able to use it for months I finally got it working again; it couldn't have been on a better day.
Remember what I said last year about giving this sight an overhaul? (can you believe its's been a year?!) Well although I never posted anything I did compile a whole bunch of old writing prompts we did waaaay back in 2014, as well as a short story by are good friend Olivia. And you know what? Today couldn't be a better day to start, after all, my laptop is working, I made a half decent rhyme thing up there, the yard flooded last night.... Why not?
...I have a good feeling about today...
For getting wet and working on blogs,
A day full of wonder,water,and wet,
A day meant for wadding through bogs.
Today is day just for doing things,
Like reading and making strange rhymes,
A day built for checkers, marbles or chess,
So please dear don't waste your time...
I'm working on my laptop today, after not being able to use it for months I finally got it working again; it couldn't have been on a better day.
Remember what I said last year about giving this sight an overhaul? (can you believe its's been a year?!) Well although I never posted anything I did compile a whole bunch of old writing prompts we did waaaay back in 2014, as well as a short story by are good friend Olivia. And you know what? Today couldn't be a better day to start, after all, my laptop is working, I made a half decent rhyme thing up there, the yard flooded last night.... Why not?
...I have a good feeling about today...
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Not dead yet...
Jello. ( yes jello, I did that on purpose)
Yes, I'm here. Which is really weird because I've never said anything to you before. in fact, if you hadn't of looked at that list on the bottom page chances are You wouldn't know I was here at all.
You know, for a blog you haven't said much in a while, which is also really weird.... I think I'll call you Haden. You need a name after all, and I think that one fits you.
I'm going to take good care of you. You need to be taken care of, I mean, come on! no ones said anything here in almost two years... That's a long time to be gathering dust my friend.
And your a secret.
the best kept secret in the world, only known by a few friends. You can't leave secrets untended you know, they're like dreams, no one knows to take care of them if you don't tell them to. Besides there are noodle involved here, and any secret involving noodles is too good to forget, so don't worry, I won't let anyone forget about you. Not Never!!!
There we are, your smiling again. that's good.
I think This new year is gonna be great... Why? Because together we're going to make the world a better place. But it's a secret... Just don't go and tell anyone ok?
Man, it's gonna take a lot of work to get you all cleaned up, so I guess I'll have to get started right away. I'm excited. Are you?
Yes, I'm here. Which is really weird because I've never said anything to you before. in fact, if you hadn't of looked at that list on the bottom page chances are You wouldn't know I was here at all.
You know, for a blog you haven't said much in a while, which is also really weird.... I think I'll call you Haden. You need a name after all, and I think that one fits you.
I'm going to take good care of you. You need to be taken care of, I mean, come on! no ones said anything here in almost two years... That's a long time to be gathering dust my friend.
And your a secret.
the best kept secret in the world, only known by a few friends. You can't leave secrets untended you know, they're like dreams, no one knows to take care of them if you don't tell them to. Besides there are noodle involved here, and any secret involving noodles is too good to forget, so don't worry, I won't let anyone forget about you. Not Never!!!
There we are, your smiling again. that's good.
I think This new year is gonna be great... Why? Because together we're going to make the world a better place. But it's a secret... Just don't go and tell anyone ok?
Man, it's gonna take a lot of work to get you all cleaned up, so I guess I'll have to get started right away. I'm excited. Are you?
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Ib: Chapter Four - Enter: The Yellow Rose
--------------------------------
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
You don't know how long you have been running. You can't remember when you got separated from Garry. All you know for sure at the moment, is to run. Run as fast as your legs can carry you, because they are coming...
You dive into the first room you see, locking the door behind you. The loud thumping doesn't stop. They are still right outside. Behind you. Just one step away. Clawing, gnashing, biting.
A whole museum of beautiful works seeking to end your life.
Your breath comes in raggedy hiccups, panic running through your whole body. Now, more then ever, you felt alone.
"G-Garry..." You whimper, wishing you hadn't lost him in the chaos a moment ago. Who knew if you'd ever see him again, or anyone else...
The banging on the wall grows louder, and you proceed into the next room, shutting the door again behind you.
You let out a long sigh of relief. With your ear to the door, you can barely hear the noise fading away. It's faint, but they have left you alone.
You turn around, only to come face to face with the lady in red. She looks calm, though she approaches you with a burning hunger in her eyes.
You stumble backwards, nearly tripping over yourself as you turn to fumble with the door.
There is little you can do but gasp in horror as the door's lock clicks against your efforts.
Tears stream down your face as the Lady arches over you, clawed hands ready to strike.
Your scream pierces the air, before fading with you into nothingness.
A single rose petal falls to the cold ground, joining it's wilted stem to live nevermore...
---------------------------------------
You awake with a start, chest heaving with each stressed breath. Your body feels sore all over, and as you wipe your face, you find it wet with tears.
A quick look around the room shows a reveals a small office of sorts, the only painting to be seen is a small frame with flowers on it resting on the nearby desk. You yourself must have fallen asleep some time, probably having been run ragged by all the running, and Gary had taken you here.
You shakily stand up, revealing your makeshift bed/blanket that you had been lying on to be Garry's coat. Speaking of Garry, were was he?
As if on queue, your companion came rounding one of the bookshelves in a hurry. "Hey, Ib. Good morning... I think." He said, giving a kind smile as he kneeled down to your level. "How are you feeling?"
You pull the coat tighter around you shoulders, shivering slightly. "I... I had a nightmare.." You whisper meekly.
Garry gave a sad sigh, standing back up. "I see... You poor thing. Can't say I'm surprised though. Being exposed to such frightful sights... you know? I guess it's good you woke up. I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier..."
Garry was silent for a moment, looking around as if he was watching for something. "Ib, would you take a look in the pocket of that coat?"
You do so, fumbling around with the worn piece of cloth until you find the pocket in question. Pulling out the object inside reveals a tiny yellow sphere in a clear wrapping.
"You can have that. Feel free to eat it, if you like. Its lemon flavored. They usually help me stay calm." He said, before walking off again to stand around the bookshelves. "Feel free to rest as long as you need. I'll wait."
You nod silently, as you are wont to do, before walking slowly around the room, coat still draped around you. You put the candy in your own pocket, not really feeling like eating it now. Wandering over to the desk, a small pamphlet catches you eye.
Rules of the art gallery, it reads. No loud conversation, no photography, no food or drink, no touching the displays, no fountain pens, NO LEAVING EVER.
You sigh. It's all you can manage right now.
Finding no real purpose in lying around, you walk off to find Garry. He hadn't moved an inch, simply leaning up against the shelves.
Sliding the coat off of your shoulders, you hand the raggedy garment up to him.
"Oh... thanks Ib. Me and this jacket have been through a lot together..." He said with a smile, though the second part was more just musing to himself. "I was just so focused on getting out of here... I didn't really look after you... Sorry Ib."
Throwing the coat back on, Garry walks to the door, motioning for you to follow.
The rooms following were a deep vermillion, though otherwise empty. There were a few mannequins, but they didn't move, and neither of you were willing to temp them by approaching the exhibits they resided in.
There were no pointing to be seen during the walk through the twisting indigo halls, save for one benign little piece.
"Hey Ib? Have you heard of milk puzzles?" Garry asks down to you as you approach the stark white jigsaw puzzle. You shake you head silently. "Well, as the name implies, its a puzzle where all the pieces are white like milk. Like this one. Since there is no picture on them, they're much harder then regular puzzles. Very smart people can finish them in no time at all, but..." Garry give a humored sigh, continuing his walk. "To be honest, they're not exciting. Since they don't even make a picture in the end... It feels much more worth it to do a puzzle of a picture you like, don't you think so, Ib?"
You think for a bit, a bit confused at the concept, before nodding. It didn't make much sense to you to build a puzzle with no picture. Garry laughed a bit at your reaction, causing you to look up to him with confusion plastered all over your face. "If you don't mind my asking, why are you so quite all the time?"
Of course, your first reaction is silence, but that would simply prove his point.
"My... my parents like it when I am quite..." You barely whisper. Garry simply nods sagely, something that seemed a bit out of character for him.
"I can understand that. But I want you to know one thing, Ib." He stops for a moment, causing you to nearly run into him. "I want you to know that I like it when you talk. You don't have to be afraid to tell me exactly what is on your mind."
You cant help but smile a bit, even if you don't know why. No one had ever wanted to simply hear you before. It made you... happy.
Eventually, the hallway came to an end, stopping with a simple door, flanked on either side by a mirror. You try to door, only for it to end up locked. "Hey, what's this... The name of the gateway to this world. Speak it and you shall enter. " Garry reads aloud, having leaned over to read a plaque next the mirrors. "Right... the big floor mural... what was it called again? Something... of the Deep? I don't remember. Any ideas, Ib?"
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