by William Hill
"How are we going to do that?" Liam asked.
"I understand from your father that you are an avid reader of Sherlock Holmes. What would he do?" Smith responded.
"Well", Liam began, "first he'd survey the crime scene. Everything could be a clue and everyone a suspect. The problem is Holmes would know right off the bat what crime had been committed - and I don't have a clue with school."
"Oh, but you do! Your classes were canceled Friday. What will they be replaced with on Monday? Think of this as the theft of a piece of art that has been replaced with a forgery. You, young Holmes, must find out the Who, How, and Why."
"Holmes was always granted full access to everyone and everywhere he needed to conduct his investigation." Liam pointed out. "Since this is a school administrative thing, how am I, a student, supposed to get into and snoop around the office? And I really don't suppose the principal would want to talk to me about it, do you?"
Smith laughed. “Hardly, but here's were Holmes would use Dr. Watson, and the Baker Street Irregulars."
“Of course! Mr. Specks is my Watson as he has access to the office and administrators, and my friends are my Irregulars!"
"See, Sherlock, you can be deductive. But what are the Baker Street Irregulars?" Carol asked.
Liam explained. "Not what, 'who'. They were a group of urchins, orphans or runaways, who lived on the streets, specifically Baker Street, in London, that Holmes would sometimes use to keep their eyes and ears open, or otherwise find out anything that might help his investigation. Think of the story of Oliver Twist with Fagin's boys, only stealing information instead of picking pockets. The kid who was the best and sort of led the others was named Dodger...the Artful Dodger. The head kid in the Baker Street gang was named Wiggins."
"We have our 'Sherlock' and 'Watson'. Carol, would you be our 'Wiggins'?" Smith asked.
"I guess so," she said, unsure.
"Excellent. Those could be everyone's code name if you want to take it that far, but whenever you discuss anything about this matter, anywhere, or with any of us and even amongst yourselves, you will refer to the mission’s code name, 'Baker Street'. Is everyone agreeable with that name?” Smith asked, looking at each person in the room.
No one had an objection. Knowing about Liam’s current obsession with Sherlock Holmes, they thought it appropriate and had nothing else to add at the time.
"All-ri-tee, then" Smith concluded. "Liam, it's time for you and Carol to go and put together the 'Irregulars'. Your contact person, to pass information to, will be your Grandmother. We could mix our metaphors, and code name her 'Fagin'. Would you like that, Marion?"
"Not particularly, and I don’t think we need code names. The mission’s code name is sufficient,” she stated.
"Why not my dad as my contact? No offense, Gran, but I see him every day” Liam asked.
"None taken" his grandmother said, with a laugh.
"Because, your father is very involved, as is the rest of the circle, in another matter. Except for her. She's our Emeritus, our expert retired member that we call in on difficult cases because of her vast experience. Or because we need her gift of prescience".
"Her what?" asked Carol.
"She has a second gift, she can at times know future events before they happen, sometimes only fuzzily, sometimes with amazing clarity, and usually with great accuracy," Smith explained.
Liam looked at his Grandmother with a questioning look. She simply smiled at him in acknowledgement and said, "Haven't I always told you that you were special? I didn't just say that to make you feel good about yourself!"
He was tiring, beginning to suffer sensory overload. He needed rest, so he told everyone, "I can't think straight, this is getting to be too much, too fast."
Before Dr. Smith or anyone else could say anything, Liam's father interjected, "Right. Let's call it a night. I'll take you home. Carol, you and Liam can get together tomorrow after you've had a good nights rest. If that's okay with you, Carroll."
Carol's father, who was very protective of his daughter and had already begun to become concerned with the amount of time she and Liam were spending together, wasn’t happy with that. It's not that he had anything against the boy, he was decent enough and came from an old and respected family that had been in St. Mary's for over three hundred and fifty years. But Carol seemed quite attracted to him, and he thought she was too young to be so serious about a boy...and Liam was, well, a boy...and he remembered himself when he was young! However, under the circumstances he couldn't see a way out of this so he simply nodded his head in agreement. However, he would keep his eyes on them, and a short leash, nonetheless.
"I think we all could use a good nights rest," Gran said.
After leaving Dr. Smith’s house, he and his father drove home, and his father explained more about Liam's grandmother's other talent, which he said was also called precognition, or foreknowledge of future events.
"She never told us as kids, but there were times when she wouldn't let us go somewhere, or do something. She'd never tell us why, and that would drive us crazy because normally we were allowed to roam miles from home, hours on end, without checking in, just as you were when you were a kid. Nevertheless, that was another time, a lot safer for a young kid than these days. As we grew older, we began to find out that, usually something bad had happened, like an accident, and that had we gone there, or done whatever it was we had wanted to, we'd have been in the accident, or whatever. At first, I thought they were just coincidences. But after a while, I realized there were too many of them. I even started keeping track of them. I found it curious she was never completely wrong; oh, maybe sometimes she wasn't wholly right, but she was never wholly wrong either. At one point, I asked if she could explain these coincidences. She said her father had told her she had probably inherited her gift from his grandmother, a Native American, of the Canoy tribe, who were related to the Delaware and lived along the Potomac River, and had come from a long line of shamans, or medicine men, but I believe it’s through the Sherwoods, as I’ve told you. Anyway, she told me that wherever it came from she'd always been able to do whatever it is, but not to tell anyone or they would think I was making up stories. It was only after I joined the circle did I find out all that she could do. Remember last month when your cousin Chas got hurt? Well, Mom called his mother and asked where Chas was. My sister told Mom he was playing outside. Mom told her to get him because she 'felt' something was wrong. Just as my sister went out, young Chas came tearing around the corner, tripped over his own feet and fell, badly cutting his head on something when he landed. I asked Mom about it. She told me she had 'seen' the whole thing. She only called because she couldn't 'see' how badly Chas would be hurt."
"Geez, I thought weird stories like this only happened in books!” Liam laughed.
"Well, you know what they say — ‘truth is stranger than fiction’" his father responded.
Liam asked about Smith. “There’s something I don’t like about him; he creeps me out a little. Do you trust him?”
“Not really, but he is the boss. And he ‘creeps’ me out a little, too.”
“So, he’s in Intelligence.”
“That’s what I’m told.”
“CIA.”
“Yup, but how’d you know that? Did my mother tell you that?”
“No, and I didn’t know, until you just now confirmed it!” Liam laughed. “So, while we’re on the subject of who works for whom…whom do you really work for?”
“Need, Liam, need. Remember?”
That was the last thing they spoke about until they got home, when they said goodnight and went to bed.
It was almost ten o'clock when he awoke and got out of bed. He made his way to the bathroom and was glad his sisters weren't in it. He often thought that for girls the bathroom was just an extension of their bedroom; if one added up the hours a day they spent in both combined, it was a wonder they had time to go to school or do anythin
g else. Pushing aside all his sister’s shampoos, rinses, creams, and whatnot each had to have, in addition to those of his mother’s, he thought, I should buy stock in this beauty stuff. All a guy needs is a bar of soap and water, preferably hot, and lots of it. He turned on the water, stepped in and let a sigh out. I could stand here forever, he mused, feeling the water lap over him from head-to-torso-to-thigh and calf-to-toe, all his muscles relaxing. His thoughts, however, quickly turned to his new life, the life of a government agent! His old life, before yesterday, already felt like a dim memory. Funny, I don't feel like a James Bond, and I surely don’t look as good, but maybe that'll work for me. Who'd figure? He knew he'd have to cut his usual leisurely soak short. He needed to call Carol, meet up with her, and begin working out the details of their assignment, “Baker Street”. Where to begin? Who, and how, to draft as an "Irregular". He quickly, if not thoroughly, soaped up, rinsed, and got out. Grabbing his towel, he walked to his room deep in thought, unconscious of his nudity until half way down the hall. He quickly covered himself and got to his room, glad that nobody — especially his mother or sisters — had passed by. Toweling dry, he pulled on a fresh pair of skivvies and speed dialed Carol on his phone.
She answered with "It’s about time!"
He ignored the jab. "When are you free? Wanna come here, or should I come there?"
"Come here. Daddy's acting all weird over my being involved in this thing. If we work here, and maybe involve him by 'asking' for his input, then maybe he'll chill out once he knows what we're planning. Come on over this afternoon, about two or so, 'cause we have some kinda family thing Mom and Dad wants us to do."
"I'll be there then. See ya soon," he said as he hung up.
He had no intention of asking her father anything. According to Dr. Smith, this was his mission and he wasn't going to let any of the adults steal his thunder if everything worked. On the other hand, not asking for help from any of them would really look bad if everything went south. He decided that he would accept help from his father, if he offered, and he definitely would seek input from his grandmother. Besides, she was his assigned contact. Now he had a few hours to kill. He got dressed and went to the kitchen to get breakfast. The first thing he noticed on his way was that there was nobody home, and then he saw a note on the kitchen counter. It said, "We've gone on day trip/picnic to the shore. Thought you probably should stay home since you've had an 'accident' and need to recover. If you need anything, just call. Love, Mom."
Oh, great! Now I have to make my own breakfast.
Rummaging around in the Fridge, he found some cold leftover pizza. It'd do; he loved pizza, hot or cold. Grabbing it and a glass of milk, he sat down at the table, picked up the massive newspaper on it, and began his normal Sunday morning leisurely activity. It would keep him busy for hours and let him keep his mind occupied and off everything else. He looked at all the ads. Not that he could afford to buy anything, but he could wish. Then he read every section cover-to-cover except the Classifieds. He even did the crossword puzzle.
When it was one o'clock, he decided to go over to Carol's, even if he was a bit early. As he started to bike to Carol's it dawned on him that he was supposed to be home recuperating from his 'accident'. He could only hope no one he knew from school would see him. He hunched farther over the handlebars and peddled faster and reached Carol's house in what he thought record time. Before he could knock, her father opened the door.
"Come in Liam. Carol's in her room." Liam entered and started for the stairs to go up to Carol's room when her father gently took him by the arm and steered him towards the living room.
"CAROL? LIAM'S HERE! he yelled. To Liam he said, "You guys can talk in here."
Carol came bouncing down and shot her father the look that only a daughter can give an overprotective father, then smiled and sashayed over to Liam, gave him a big hug, and led him into the living room.
"What was that all about?" Liam asked her once inside.
"Now that Daddy's ‘little girl' is getting big enough to attract boys, he's as protective as a Rottweiler."
He looked at her with a quizzical look.
"And you're a boy."
"Oh. I suppose we shouldn't sit too close then?"
"Ignore him. I know how to handle him. Now then, let's get started on ‘Baker Street’. Got any ideas about who to recruit as Irregulars, besides the two most obvious choices?"
"And who would they be?" knowing full well who she meant.
"Your two shadows, of course. Who else do you trust more?"
"You."
"You are sweet. I iterate: anyone besides Drew and Scott?"
"Not off-hand. Besides, I'm not sure how many we should involve right away; maybe no one else. I'd hate to make the mistake of picking someone who might screw it up and blow our cover by feeling important and bragging to his girl or something."
"Who said anything about more boys?"
"Why? Do you have any prospective girls?"
"No. Girls are more talkative than guys."
"Okay, since I'll be home tomorrow with my 'concussion and epilepsy', why don't you tell them in the morning about my 'accident' and the three of you come to my house after school to visit the invalid, and we'll recruit them then. And, if Specks asks you if we've any plans yet, tell him 'No'. We don't report to him and I don't want him to start thinking we do. He's Watson. I'm Sherlock. I'm gonna make sure he works for me, and not vice versa."
"That’s okay by me. He's a good teacher, but a bit too squirrelly for me to deal with on a personal level. Have you thought about how are we going to go about finding out what's going on at school?"
"For the time being we'll just go along with whatever is going on and see if there are any hints as to who might be behind whatever it is. Wednesday, when I start back to school, we'll all walk there together and update each other on what, if anything, we've learned. We'll do that every morning. It'll be the safest way to meet daily. Who'd suspect anything from four kids walking together to school outdoors on a public sidewalk?"
"Sounds like a plan," Carol agreed.
He looked around to make sure they were alone, then leaned over and gave Carol a quick kiss on the cheek. "I hate to kiss-and-run" he whispered, smiling at the blush that was rising in her cheeks, "but I need to stop by my grandmothers, and then get home before anyone sees me out-and-about."
Chapter Ten: Time and Space
“Only he who can see the invisible can do the impossible.”
