Sherlock Sam and the Fiendish Heist in London

by A. J. Low

  The interior of the shop was just as intriguing as its outside. It was wall-to-wall art supplies—paints, pencils, pens, paper, tools— in every colour imaginable. If you could name it, I was certain they would have it.

  “This is so amazing,” Wendy said, her eyes glazing over. Her hands were held out in front of her like a zombie about to feed.

  “We only need enough supplies for the one painting, Wendy,” Mom said, grabbing on to the back of my sister’s jacket. Her other hand hung on to Jimmy’s shirt too, just in case. He was eyeing the paper craft section with a maniacal glee. Inspector Lestrade had vanished, I half expected her to show up dressed as a giant tube of paint.

  “But, Mom…” Wendy whined. “I need more paint for my school project.”

  “What are you working on?” Bok Joo asked. She looked genuinely interested, which surprised me. I wondered about her past. Why was she a minion of James’? Did he have something on her?

  “I’m trying to recreate scenes from TV shows that I like and juxtapose them with classical paintings!” Wendy replied, bouncing on her heels like she was Jimmy.

  “Oh, like what Doctor Who did in the episode with Vincent van Gogh,” Bok Joo replied, nodding.

  “Yes! Exactly! When the TARDIS appeared in Starry Night!” Wendy looked genuinely excited to find a fellow art nerd.

  “I like recreating scenes from Korean dramas too. Sometimes I even pretend I’m one of the actors, just for fun,” Bok Joo added.

  “Like cosplay?” Wendy asked. Suddenly, something else caught her attention. “Oooh, are those calligraphy brushes?” She dashed off in that direction, Mom scampered after her with Jimmy hot on their heels.

  “I’m curious,” I said, stepping up to stand beside Bok Joo.

  “As to why I’m Minion Two?” she asked, not looking at me.

  I didn’t answer. Sometimes silence led to answers.

  Bok Joo sighed heavily then turned to face me. “Maybe it’s just because I want to. Did that ever occur to you?”

  “It did, but from the way you behave, that seems unlikely,” I replied.

  “James was right,” she said. “You really do try to see the best in everyone.”

  I was surprised that James had said that, but I tried not to let it show.

  “Does he have something on you?” I asked.

  Bok Joo remained quiet for a moment, then she looked up, straight at me, and said, “He caught me cheating on a test.”

  Ah. It all made sense now.

  “I was new at the school and I couldn’t keep up during mathematics, so I sneaked a glance at the person next to me, and another glance, and another glance. And James filmed me with a phone that he had hidden in his pencil case.”

  “That-sounds-like-James,” Watson said.

  “Wouldn’t he get in trouble for filming you, but not telling the teacher?” I asked.

  “I’m not worried about the teacher finding out,” Bok Joo replied. “It’s my dad. He’s still in Seoul and if he found out I cheated…” Her voice trailed off. “I can’t disappoint him again.”

  “Again?” I asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Bok Joo replied. She laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “You could say it was almost like a Korean drama. Yes, that’s exactly it. My life is a melodramatic TV series. I would actually prefer to live in a variety show though; they are so much more fun, don’t you think?”

  “My-favourite-is-the-one-with-the-timetravellingrobots-who-took-over-the-world-bypretendingto-be-human,” Watson said, before he wandered off to stop Jimmy from toppling over a rack of coloured pencils.

  Bok Joo looked at Watson, then at me, and back at Watson again.

  “Please tell me he’s joking,” she said.

  “He’s not, but it’s fine,” I replied.

  “I overheard James talking about Eliza to Minion, I mean, Mark, before you guys arrived. I wish I had a chance to talk to her,” Bok Joo said. She picked up a drawing pad and stared at it.

  “Eliza felt she didn’t have a choice, but in the end, she realised that she did,” I said carefully. I sensed that Bok Joo wanted to tell me something, but if I pressed the issue, she might pull back. “You can trust us, you know.”

  She smiled and looked at me. “James was right. You are very insightful, Sherlock Sam. But perhaps also too kind.”

  Again, I was stunned. I could not imagine James saying anything nice about me, much less pay me two compliments. Then again, he probably hadn’t said it in a nice way.

  Mom came up to me, breathless. “Okay, Sam. I managed to get Wendy to buy only what she needed to recreate the Liu Huimin painting, and three boxes of acrylic paint that she said she needed for school. Inspector Lestrade is arranging for the three cartons full of things she bought to be delivered to her office. Oh, and Jimmy got some crafting paper for Benjamin. Though I’m not sure what a hamster is going to do with crafting paper.”

  “Crafting paper?” Bok Joo said, the serious expression morphing into a look of interest. “What kind of crafting paper?” Bok Joo asked, wandering off to where Watson, Wendy and Jimmy were.

  “Oh, by the way, Mom, Benjamin is now a cat. Or rather, also a cat,” I informed Mom.

  “Huh?”

  “Auntie Kim Lian got him a cat. Jimmy named her Benjamin too.”

  “He named her Benjamin? So now he has two pets named Benjamin?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s…very Jimmy.”

  “Yep.”

  “But it’s a girl cat? Actually, never mind.”

  “Also, Wendy already has two boxes of unused acrylic paint. It’s under her bed in a Khong Guan biscuit tin she took from me,” I said, walking off to join my (sneaky) sister, Bok Joo, Jimmy and Watson.

  “What?!” Mom yelled.

  Clearly, I wasn’t the only one in my family capable of pulling off a long con.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mom, Wendy and Jimmy headed back to our serviced apartment, which was right next to Trafalgar Square. It was at an extremely convenient location that Inspector Lestrade had arranged for with yet another of her magical “administrative errors”. Wendy couldn’t wait to get started on her copy of the painting; she kept caressing the calligraphy paintbrushes and cooing at them lovingly.

  Inspector Lestrade, Bok Joo, Watson and I caught a Tube ride from Leicester Square Station on the Piccadilly Line, near the art supply shop on Charing Cross Road. We later switched to the District Line at Hammersmith Station, which we took to Kew Gardens Station. From there, we walked to the National Archives where James and the rest of the Supper Club were. I was still holding out hope that we would have the time to visit 221B Baker Street, or even No. 2 Devonshire Place where Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had had his first doctor’s office, before we had to leave London. I had to make sure that everything went according to plan, because I didn’t want to have come all the way to London but not have the time to visit my heroes!

  When we arrived, I was astounded by the size of the building! I had known that the Archives contained a lot of varied information, from documents as old as William Shakespeare’s will to online files of tweets from Downing Street where the British Prime Minister worked, but I hadn’t realised so many of them were in physical form!

  We quickly made our way to one of the reading rooms where James, Nazhar, Eliza, Moran and Dad were. Dad had already texted their exact location to Inspector Lestrade.

  “Your father is very worried about the cost of international roaming, Sherlock Sam,” Inspector Lestrade commented, looking at her mobile phone. “He is an odd man. Very clever, but also very odd.”

  I had to agree with the Inspector. My dad’s quirkiness was also why I loved him.

  When we arrived, James and Eliza were arguing. Nazhar and Dad were both seated at the table in the room, watching closely. They looked tense. I was surprised Dad hadn’t stepped in to break up the disagreement.

  “Let me see your phone, Eliza,” James said angrily. He held out his hand to her.

/>   “I already told you, they’re just messages from my parents, James,” Eliza said, clutching on to her phone. “I am overseas, you know. It’s not uncommon for parents to worry about their children. But then again, I guess that’s something you wouldn’t be too familiar with.”

  James sneered. “At least my parents are still together.”

  Eliza rolled her eyes, tucked her phone into her back pocket and crossed her arms, making it impossible for James to reach for her phone without a fight.

  “That’s enough, James,” Dad said, standing up. Nazhar did as well.

  “Moran, get that phone for me,” James barked.

  “I do not take instructions from you any longer, Master James,” Moran replied. “And you are being most unpleasant to Miss Eliza, I might add.”

  “What’s going on here?” Inspector Lestrade asked.

  “What’s going on here is proof that Eliza is still untrustworthy,” James snapped. “And to me, that means the rest of you are not to be trusted as well.” He paused and looked at me. “I’m surprised, Sherlock. What ever happened to your famous integrity?”

  “Oh fine,” Eliza said, pulling her phone back out from her pocket and keying in the password to unlock it. She held it up for all of us to see. It was a photograph of a Mexican restaurant in London called Mestizo. “And see, it’s from my father. It says right here, F-A-T-H-E-R.”

  “Why would your father send you a photograph of a restaurant in London?” James asked, his eyes still glued to the screen of Eliza’s phone. Eliza noticed this and quickly dropped the hand that was holding up her phone, making it impossible for anyone to get a good look at it.

  “Because he knows that Samuel loves food and he’s recommending that we go there because,”—Eliza paused to look meaningfully at me—“it’s all good. The food there is good.”

  “Your parents have been to London before?” James asked, still suspicious.

  “Your parents aren’t the only ones who are wealthy, James,” Eliza replied in a bored tone.

  “This was the place we talked about when we were still in Singapore, right?” I quickly added. I didn’t want them to continue arguing. “Then yes, we most definitely need to go there.”

  “Yes!” Dad almost-shouted. “Where it is ALL GOOD!”

  We turned to look at him. Even the previously deadpan Bok Joo looked startled.

  “I may have said that too loudly,” Dad said, smiling awkwardly.

  “We need to go, James,” Bok Joo said. “I mean, Master James. If we don’t, we might miss curfew.”

  “Blast the dorm and their ridiculous curfew,” James muttered. “Very well then. But don’t think this is over, Eliza. I’ll be watching you closely.”

  “Whatever,” Eliza replied.

  “We will meet you at your hotel at 9am tomorrow, Sherlock,” James said. “Minion Two, make a note to have my car waiting.” She nodded. “Also, what are you carrying?”

  “I bought some crafting paper from the art supply store,” Bok Joo replied.

  “Whatever for?” James asked.

  “To make ddakji,” she answered.

  “Oh, one of your silly little games again,” James said dismissively, stalking out.

  “Games are fun,” Bok Joo murmured, but too softly for James to hear.

  I waved to her as she was leaving the room. James was far ahead so I knew he wouldn’t see. I didn’t want her to get into trouble. She gave me a small smile and made a peace sign with her index and third fingers before quickly running after James.

  Once James and Bok Joo had departed, Dad heaved a huge sigh and collapsed onto a chair.

  “Dad,” I admonished.

  “I know, son,” Dad moaned. “I know.”

  Eliza was quickly typing something on her mobile phone. She looked at me and nodded.

  “What did you guys find out?” I asked.

  Nazhar, who had a notepad in front of him, said, “Quite a lot. James might be evil and irritating, but he’s a super good researcher. Which, I suppose, is a prerequisite for a fiendish mastermind, if you think about it.”

  “Don’t ever turn evil, Sherlock Sam!” Inspector Lestrade cried out dramatically. I grinned.

  “We have floor plans of the Tate Modern, maps of the sewer systems under it, and we even found an old architectural illustration of unused train tunnels, which is super fascinating. Historically—”

  A loud rumbling sound interrupted Nazhar. Everyone turned to look at me.

  “Fish and chips time, Sam?” Dad asked.

  I had the decency to blush. “Sorry, Nazhar. But also, this is really something that the rest of the Supper Club should be around for.”

  “While I would love to partake of these fishes and chips, alas, I should check in with my colleagues to see if they have any further leads on the Lewis Chessmen theft,” Inspector Lestrade said. “Also, I owe my good friend Officer Siva a phone call! I too shall see you bright an early tomorrow at 9am, Sherlock Sam! Au revoir!” With a small wave, Inspector Lestrade strolled off, as jaunty as ever.

  We found a small eatery that served piping hot fish and chips that were still wrapped in newspaper! But because it was now considered unhygienic to use just newspaper, it was also lined with a sheet of clean white paper. The paper would absorb the grease from the fish and chips so it wouldn’t get too soggy. I could smell the delicious aroma all the way back to the apartment. It was a pity that the food had been bound too securely for me to steal a chip or two.

  When we reached the serviced apartment, we found Wendy, Mom and Jimmy hard at work. Well, Wendy and Mom were hard at work. Jimmy was observing them from the bed, where he was also apparently battling imaginary magical pillows.

  “That looks great, Wendy,” Eliza said, looking at the painting my sister had already finished. She took a photo of it and quickly typed something on her phone. She then crouched next to where my sister was sprawled out on the floor painting a second version.

  Wendy remained silent. She was completely focused on her work.

  “She can’t talk, Eliza,” Mom said with a smile. “As I understand it, she has to concentrate for the art to flow from her fingers. Direct quote.”

  “Of course, Auntie,” Eliza said, trying not to laugh.

  Nazhar stood next to Eliza. Dad had joined Jimmy on the bed to battle the imaginary pillow monsters while Moran observed. Since he had started living with Jimmy, Moran and Jimmy had become quite good friends.

  “While Wendy is painting, why don’t we eat the fish and chips?” I suggested hungrily.

  “And-also-discuss-our-plans,” Watson added.

  “I didn’t think that needed to be said, Watson,” I said with a cough.

  Mom finally managed to pry Wendy away from her art amidst her protests that she had to finish it by tonight, and we all sat at the dining room table in the small kitchen of the serviced apartment. As we tucked into the fish and chips (with extra tartar sauce and vinegar on mine), I laid out what I thought we should do.

  “Nazhar did a great job finding all the maps and plans,” I said.

  My friend beamed and said, “So I should be the one to canvass the area.” He paused and looked at me, “Did I say it right? ‘Canvass the area’? I don’t watch a lot of crime shows, unless they’re about Victorian crimes on the History Channel. Now, those are fascinating. Did I ever tell you about—”

  “I’ll go with Nazhar, Samuel,” Eliza interrupted. She saw the expression on my face when Nazhar said he would canvass the area on his own. “We’ll also look for possible escape routes.”

  “I am not directionally challenged,” Nazhar immediately added, “but a second pair of eyes and hands would be good, because tunnels can get dark. And who knows what we might find. Crocodiles. We might find crocodiles.” He suddenly looked worried. Eliza rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll go with them,” Mom offered. “Because not only am I not directionally challenged, I am also really good with torches.”

  I nodded.

  “Wa
tson,” I said.

  “I-will-stay-here-and-keep-watch-on-ourbaseof-operations-and-luggage,” my robot offered.

  “Yes, thanks for that, but actually I think you’ll be with me and James. We might need your hacking skills for the automated security system.”

  “My-idea-was-much-better,” he replied.

  “And Moran,” I continued, ignoring my robot, “we need you as our eyes and ears in the sky.”

  “But I am not the one who can fly, Master Sherlock,” Moran.

  “Yet,” Watson said.

  “We just need you on a roof near the museum, Moran,” I explained. “You can use your roller skates to make your way up the side of the building. From there, you can tell us if you see anyone approaching the museum. Using your new Wi-Fi capabilities, you’ll also be able to access the various CCTV cameras installed around the museum to extend your field of vision. We’ll all be outfitted with radios and earpieces, so you can warn us if anybody comes too close.”

  “What about me, Sherlock?” Jimmy asked, bouncing with excitement. “Do I battle it out with the museum security guards? En garde!” He was holding on to a chip and was waving it about as if it were a sword.

  “Just about, Jimmy,” I said, grinning. “You and the Inspector-in-disguise Lestrade will be leading the museum security team on a merry chase around the building. Anywhere but where James, Watson and I will be.”

  “Ooh, will I be Jimmy-in-disguise too, Sherlock?” Jimmy asked, his eyes wide.

  “The Inspector already has an idea for your outfit, Jimmy,” I replied. Jimmy’s eyes grew even bigger.

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with James, son,” Dad said.

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” I said. “You won’t be. You’ll be back here coordinating everything. If anything goes wrong that we can’t see, you’ll be the one to inform the rest of us. You’re our Barbara Gordon!”

  Dad pointed at his chest and said, “Me? I’m Batgirl? Wait, I’m Oracle?” He gulped.