Posted by Bowen Cates on 3/8/2008, 2:13 am, in reply to "Chapter twelve part one"
24.207.121.197
“Very well…There are no impressions or indications of any kind on this path, or the lawn surrounding it…not even those of the gardener.”
“Well, it is the future…they probably use a chemical or invisible robot or something…”
“No doubt, although the invisible robot hypothesis seems highly unlikely.” Theodore turned bright red. “The point though, is that my method of working is not longer effective.”
So that was it, Theodore had never thought about it that way. He supposed that the other Holmes must have made some revisions to his method of working so that it would be compatible with his new time.
What a blow.
“You just need some time to adjust that’s all.” Theodore assured him
Holmes snorted, “If all goes as planned I shall not have cause to, nor will you Mr. Trent.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Holmes had voiced the very thing that Theodore had been thinking. Yes, they would all be going back to their proper times soon, and Theodore missed his family that was for sure…but he wanted so much to stay with his newfound friends…to show everyone of all times, that he, Theodore, had the greatest friend in the world…in ANY world.
He hoped he would remember it all when he got back, I mean what if he forgot everything when he reached his own time? No, he would never forget Holmes, either of them, no matter what.
At last they came upon the front doors of the mansion, huge double doors, they looked to be of solid oak and on each rested a very imposing lion’s head knocker that could easily have rivaled the heads of real lions in size. Imposing, supremely Victorian, this was going to be an interesting visit.
Holmes did not seem to have such high expectations.
The detective took up one of the knockers and taped it lightly against the door, which was opened almost immediately a butler clad in what looked like a very luxurious version of a penguin suit.
He was a pale, pruney looking man with red hair sticking out at odd angles from his mostly bald head. He was a little taller then Holmes, maybe by an inch or so. But had none of his cat like grace or lean muscle, in fact, he looked positively old.
“How can I help you?” he enquired warily, in a voice like the wind as it whistled over the dunes of the Egyptian desert.
“My friend and I are with Inspector Lestrade.” Holmes answered in a deep baritone that reminded Theodore of dark chocolate or caramel or something. “My name is Samuel Redfern.” (A hats off to Ted Riccardi)
“Well sir, you may come in, as I have no grounds upon which to stop you, although the master has had quite enough of the police in his house, however, the boy must stay out here and wait, the master does not have a liking for child-”
“Hello you two!” Watson greeted from behind them, the irregulars in tow “sorry we took so long but we were delayed by traffic.”
The butler’s face went chalk white “More Children! No! I draw the line at more children!”
Samuel Redfern came to the rescue “I assure you sir that all four of my assistants, and Watson here are necessary for investigative purposes, I would not bring them if it were not the case, now, are you going to let us in or must I contact inspector Lestrade?”
“Very well, my name is Charles Traverson, call me if you need anything” he said stiffly and lead them inside.
As they walked through the large marble halls, Theodore could hear Deidre mumbling to Wiggins and Tennyson:
“You’d think we were trouble makers, the way that creepozoid was looking at us…”
He smiled, he had a feeling that Deidre and her friends had gotten into their fair share of mischief in the past.
Just then, Wiggins nudged Deidre who saw Theodore watching them and shut up. He felt bad; he had been so stupid to think that he could have friends his own age here when he found it impossible at home. Just as he began to slip into his own melancholy chain of thought, he felt a tug on his sleeve.
“Hey, something wrong?”
It was Wiggins, no doubt he was taking pity on Theodore, which was the last thing he wanted anyone to do, he found himself getting very angry.
“Ya? What do you want?”
“Hey, whoa, I just wanted to know if something was bothering you. You looked kinda sad, but if you want me to leave ya alone I will.”
Theodore was instantly penitent.
“Oh, no, sorry. No it’s just…I’m thinking.”
“That what’s bothering you? You thinking about your own time?”
“Uh, no. to tell the truth I’m worried…”
“About what?”
He looked over his shoulder; Holmes seemed absorbed in studying a peace of paper sticking out of Mr. Traverson’s pocket and was not listening.
“Well, about Holmes.”
Wiggins looked puzzled “which one?”
“Never mind.”
“Come on, it’s okay.”
“Well, the one I met first, from the nineteenth century, I dunno, outside he looked kind of annoyed, there were no footprints on the lawn and I think that bothered him.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll adjust, after all, he does later.” Theodore was reminded of his own advice to the detective.
“Ya, thanks anyway.”
“No prob. Look…I think we might have hurt your feelings…we didn’t mean to leave you out of the conversation, its just that we were talking about you. Tennyson had some questions but we didn’t want to offend you.”
Thoroughly shocked, Theodore perked up “what did you want to ask me?”
“Well” Wiggins blushed “is it true that you ride around in hover cars with wheels on them? Like they don’t fly? And that you actually use fire to heat things like Holmes did? Like you don’t use an indoor heating regulator?”
Theodore laughed “well, yes we do ride in cars which don’t hover, and as to the fire, well that depends on if you have a fireplace, otherwise we use gas or electricity as heat.”
“But fire is a weapon! It could kill you!”
“Uh, no, not if you’re careful and you know how to contain it.”
“Sweet.”
“Thanks.”
The rest of the walk through the network of hallways and dormers was passed in a great deal of whispering and giggling from all four children as Theodore told them all about his time. They were also curious about Canada and its relation to the English. The irregulars seemed to take pleasure in even the most ordinary aspects of Theodore’s daily life, and he had to admit to himself that he was enjoying the attention.
After turning another corner, the group came to another large oak doorway – minus lion heads - from under which a foul odor was wafting.
“The Master often uses strong chemicals in his work,” Mr. Traverson informed them all.
“Is that you Charlie?” asked a voice that seemed to be rising from under the door along with the stench, personally, Theodore could make little distinction between the two.
“Yes sir, I have some more guests.”
“Alright then, come in, come in.”
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