Sherlock Sam's Orange Shorts

by A. J. Low

  Nazhar saw Watson’s now not-invisible dangling hand and immediately grabbed on to it, shouting, “Pull up! Pull up!” Watson immediately became invisible again and retracted his arm. To the two guards emerging from the room, it looked like the black-clad and masked Nazhar was flying upwards through the air. They gasped and gaped at him! With his other elongated arm, Watson pushed himself and Nazhar backwards, further into the balcony. To the guards, it was as if an invisible force had shoved Nazhar!

  Once Watson had pulled him back onto the roof, Nazhar immediately instructed him to take off! With a loud SNAP, CRACKLE and POP, Watson took off into the air. This time, the maid screamed and pointed at the sky when she saw them. All the guards in the compound lifted their torches and saw the black-clad, flying boy, but none of them could reach him. The two guards checked the antique room but found everything was in its rightful place. They must have stopped him before he had stolen anything, they thought, breathing a secret sigh of relief.

  When Nazhar and Watson finally returned to the time machine, Wendy was half asleep next to the still-unconscious Hattori Hanzo.

  “Wow, that sure took a long time,” Wendy said, yawning as she stretched.

  Both Nazhar and the now-visible Watson glared at her.

  “Argh! You let in a mosquito, Nazhar!” Wendy shouted as she swung wildly at his face.

  THWACK!

  That was the last thing Nazhar saw before the blackness enfolded him.

  The next thing he knew, Sherlock, Jimmy, Eliza, Wendy and Watson were looking down at him.

  “He’s coming to,” Sherlock Sam said.

  “Ninja hantu…” Nazhar weakly mumbled, touching his face. There was the shadow of a slight bruise.

  “That was some punch, Wendy,” Eliza added, looking proud of her friend.

  “I know, right?” Wendy replied. “I’m really strong.” She looked mighty pleased with herself.

  “I-had-to-carry-Hattori-Hanzo-all-bymyself. He-was-not-as-light-as-he-looked,” Watson said, sounding as irritated as a robot with a robotic voice possibly could.

  “Did you meet any of my time duckies?” Jimmy asked, grinning.

  “What happened?” Nazhar asked, groggily. “Did we succeed?”

  “Yes!” Wendy exclaimed. “It all went perfectly. Well, except for me knocking you out. Watson returned Hattori Hanzo to the forest and waited, hidden in the bushes to make sure that he woke up and was okay, before returning to the time machine. We also left him a note informing him that we had completed the mission on his behalf.”

  “So history is unchanged?”

  “Well…” Wendy wouldn’t look at him.

  “Well? What do you mean ‘well’?” Nazhar asked, scrambling up and reaching for his glasses.

  “You might want to read this,” Sherlock said, handing Nazhar what looked like a book on Japanese history. A passage had been marked with a luminous pink sticky note from Nazhar’s stash.

  Nazhar quickly scanned the page. It was an entry about how the Hojo clan castle guards had foiled an attack by a mysterious black-clad figure in the dead of the night. Witnesses said that the figure had magical powers of flight and invisibility—able to take off into the air and vanish! According to the history book, this was the very first sighting of the mythical ninja.

  Nazhar’s scream of horror could be heard throughout all of time and space.

  THE END

  Sheriff Moran tipped his hat to a passing couple as his steam-driven horse trotted down Tumbleweed’s main thoroughfare. Tumbleweed was one of the most recent of the townships that were popping up all over the west, and if Moran was honest with himself, it was less a township than it was a collection of mostly unfinished buildings. That newfangled electricity that was sweeping the east wouldn’t come to Tumbleweed for decades.

  Construction was ongoing in most of the buildings, including the provision shop and housing. Even Sheriff Moran’s office was still under construction, which was currently being overseen by his two deputies, Deputy Siva and Deputy Lestrade. In fact, the only buildings that were completed were Mayor Eliza’s home/office and the Sherlock Saloon, run by Mike and Kat Tan. They served the best milo and teh c in the whole of the west. They also let him and his horse top up on steam whenever they needed it, so he knew they were good people.

  As the sun began to set, Sheriff Watson tied his horse to the post in front of the Sherlock Saloon, and ran the steam tube from his horse’s haunches to the steam pump below the post.

  “I will be back soon, Palladium,” Sheriff Moran said, patting his horse. Palladium neighed in reply.

  Sheriff Moran walked through the saloon doors and was happy to see that Wendy and Nazhar were playing together that night. Nazhar was banging out a jaunty tune on the piano and Wendy’s harmonica accompanied him. Jimmy and his fiddle would no doubt be on later.

  Sheriff Moran sat at his usual table, and Kat immediately came over.

  “Howdy, Sheriff,” she said. “Here’s your usual.” She brought over a steam tube similar to Palladium’s outside and the Sheriff attached it to his back.

  “Thank you, Kat,” Sheriff Moran said. “As always, I am much obliged.”

  “You keep our town safe, Sheriff,” Kat said. “It’s the least we can do.”

  Sheriff Moran tipped his hat again, and caught Mike waving at him madly from the counter. Sheriff Moran waved back, and Mike smiled widely. He went back to wiping down the counter.

  Before Sheriff Moran could get too comfortable, however, he heard the unmistakable pop-pop-pop of potatoes being shot out of steam rifles outside. He disengaged the steam tube and rushed outside. He saw seven folks— four women and three men—on steam horses, shooting steam rifles into the air.

  “We are the Moknificent Seven,” the blond one said, with a British accent, from atop his horse, “and this sad excuse for a town is now ours.”

  “Excuse me, we have not been properly introduced,” Sheriff Moran said. “I am Moran, the Sheriff of Tumbleweed. Whom am I addressing?”

  The blond cowboy blinked. “I just said we are the Moknificent Seven.”

  “Yes, of course, my apologies,” Sheriff Moran said. “Would you like to introduce yourselves as individuals?”

  “He’s rather polite for a sheriff, isn’t he?” one of the female riders said. She had short hair and wore glasses. She was dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, with a brown cowboy hat. “My name’s Yvonne!”

  “I’m Marie-Anne,” another female rider said. She had longer hair that went down her back and wore a black shirt and jeans, along with a black cowboy hat.

  “I’m Lee Swee,” the thinnest male said. He wore a blue-and-white striped shirt and pants. His cowboy hat also had blue stripes.

  “I’m Sheila,” the third female said. Her hair was similar to Yvonne’s, but a bit longer. While she didn’t wear a cowboy hat, she did have a long brown trench coat.

  “I’m Hwee Fong,” the last female whispered. Sheriff Moran had to strain to hear her. Her hair was longer than Marie-Anne’s, and she wore a purple shirt with blue jeans. Her cowboy hat was white.

  “I’m James Mok,” the blond British cowboy said. His shirt was chequered black and white, and his jeans were black. He wore a black bowler instead of a cowboy hat. “My friend over there”—he motioned towards the last man who had scars all over his arms and one big scar running down the right side of his face—“is called Jiro the Blade. He doesn’t talk much.”

  “Pleased to meet all of you,” Sheriff Moran said. “Now please desist from all this steam rifle shooting, or I shall have to arrest you all.”

  The one called James blinked at Sheriff Moran again, then he and his gang all started laughing.

  “I don’t think you understand,” James said. “This is our town now, and unless you’d like to be dismantled, you’ll be moving along like a little doggie.”

  James had an easy smile. He stared down at Sheriff Moran with that easy smile as he leaned across his steam horse’s neck.


  “Tell you what, Sheriff,” he said. “I’m going to be very nice about this. My team will tell you that I don’t normally do this, but I’m going to give you and your deputies, who are at this moment trying to sneak up behind us, a day to leave.”

  Sheriff Moran looked behind the gang and saw his two deputies stop in their tracks. The quiet Hwee Fong had aimed her steam rifle at Deputy Siva while the fierce-looking Jiro juggled blades in Deputy Lestrade’s general direction.

  “How’s that sound?” James asked.

  “Sir, please disband or we will throw you all in jail.”

  James smiled his easy smile again. “Alright then, I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

  He straightened up in his saddle and shouted, “Moknificent Seven! Let’s ride!” They rode out of Tumbleweed in a cloud of dust.

  The two deputies ran up to Sheriff Moran. “What are we going to do?” Deputy Siva asked.

  “The three of us cannot go up against the seven of them!” Deputy Lestrade said.

  “I don’t want to have to serve teh c to a bunch of bandits!” Mike said, from behind his saloon doors.

  “Everyone calm down,” Sheriff Moran said. “I do not intend to let the Moknificent Seven gang have this town without a fight.”

  “That-is-a-ridiculous-name-for-a-gang,” a mysterious stranger said. He was a boxshaped robot with one big eye in the middle of his face, and rode on a steam horse. Sheriff Moran noticed that the stranger carried two steam rifles.

  “Are you with them?” Sheriff Moran asked.

  “Who-me?” the stranger said. “Not-at-all. I-am-just-passing-through.”

  “Then continue passing through, please,” Deputy Lestrade said. “As you just heard, this town is not safe.”

  “As-I-just-heard-this-town-is-safe-for-thenightat-least,” the stranger said. “So-I-wouldlikea-room-for-the-night.”

  Mike ushered the mysterious stranger through the saloon doors and immediately offered him a room upstairs.

  “How will you fight him, Sheriff?” Deputy Siva asked.

  “I was thinking about challenging James Mok to a game of chess, with the loser leaving Tumbleweed forever.”

  The two deputies looked at each other.

  “I don’t think that’s going to work, Sheriff,” Deputy Lestrade said. “I have a sneaking suspicion this Moknificent Seven is not as polite as you are.”

  “Then what would you suggest?” Sheriff Moran asked.

  “We must fight for our town,” Kat said, coming out of the saloon holding a steam rifle. “And we must fight together.”

  “I guess I’ll go alert the mayor,” Deputy Siva said.

  An hour later, Mayor Eliza stood in the middle of the thoroughfare and spoke to the gathered residents of Tumbleweed, Sheriff Moran and his deputies included. She was wearing her best tweed suit, though the pants were still caked with mud at the cuffs.

  “Good citizens of Tumbleweed! I am here to speak to you!” Mayor Eliza began. “Tomorrow at high noon, a wild bunch will try to take our town away from us, and we can’t just give them a fistful of dollars to make them go away. I understand if you’d rather take a stagecoach out of town, especially the elderly McCabe and Mrs Miller. You’d be justified in wanting to do so. This is, after all, no country for old men. But I strongly believe it would be best for us all to stay and fight together. When the story is told of this fateful day, it will begin with ‘once upon a time in the west’, and it will end with men and women with true grit vanquishing an unforgiven gang.”

  “Ha-ha-ha.” It was the mysterious stranger from up on the balcony. He was cleaning one of his steam rifles and making sure it was loaded with potatoes. “Do-you-really-thinkthesepeople-will-be-able-to-defend-thissorryexcuse-for-a-town? Most-of-them-havenevereven-held-a-steam-rifle-let-alone-usedone. This-is-doomed-from-the-start.”

  “Help us then, stranger,” Sheriff Moran said. “You clearly know your way around a steam rifle.

  “I-told-you-I-am-just-passing-through,” the stranger said. “And-I-do-not-mean-to-makeyourproblems-my-problems.” He stepped back into his room and shut his balcony door.

  “Don’t listen to that mysterious stranger,” Mayor Eliza said. “He doesn’t know this town.”

  “This is barely a town!” somebody shouted.

  “I don’t want to get potatoed here!” somebody else said.

  The citizens of Tumbleweed dispersed, murmuring.

  “That stranger didn’t do us any favours,” Mayor Eliza said.

  “He was right,” Deputy Siva said. “If we got these people to fight, most of them would be potatoed before they even raised a steam rifle.”

  “Never mind the fact that we don’t have nearly enough steam rifles in the armoury to give to everyone anyway,” Deputy Lestrade said.

  “I’ll still be here,” Kat said. “And so will Mike, though he may be hiding in an empty milo barrel.”

  “I think we should all go to sleep, so that we are well-rested for tomorrow,” Sheriff Moran said. He untied Palladium and mounted the steam horse. As he slowly made his way back to the sheriff’s office, he heard the mysterious stranger’s laughter from within his room.

  “Ha-ha-ha.”

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Sheriff Moran, Deputy Siva, Deputy

  Lestrade, Kat Tan and Mayor Eliza stood under the hot dusty sun in the middle of Tumbleweed, and waited for the Moknificent Seven to ride in. Mike was hiding in a barrel somewhere, as was every other citizen of Tumbleweed. The mysterious stranger had left sometime in the middle of the night, though he did pay for his room, according to Kat.

  It was mostly quiet as they waited, with only the incessant buzzing of flies distracting the five of them. Sweat trickled down their backs as they tried to ignore the flies.

  And they waited.

  Finally, the Moknificent Seven rode down Tumbleweed’s single road. A large cloud of dust preceded them as they rode hard down the thoroughfare. They pulled up right before Sheriff Moran and his posse.

  James Mok leaned over his steam horse and smiled his easy smile. “You should have left,” he said. “Now I’m going to have to potato you.”

  “I will give you one last chance to leave this town peacefully,” Sheriff Moran said.

  The gang laughed again.

  “No?” Sheriff Moran asked. “Then you leave me no choice: I challenge you to a chess match. The loser leaves town forever.”

  James Mok’s smile disappeared and he looked legitimately surprised. So did the rest of the Moknificent Seven.

  “You what?” he asked.

  “I challenge you to a chess match,” Sheriff Moran repeated.

  James looked around at his gang. They all shrugged their shoulders, except for Lee Swee, who said, “I play a little chess.”

  James glared at him. He turned back in his saddle and stared down at Sheriff Moran. “Listen here, you heap of scrap metal. I’m not playing chess or any other kind of game with you. We’re going to potato you, then strip this town for all its valuables. How’s that sound?” He pointed his steam rifle menacingly at Sheriff Moran. The Sheriff could see into the barrel and it was indeed loaded with potato pieces.

  “Have it your way,” Sheriff Moran said. “Now.”

  Palladium shot out of nowhere and brought down three of the gang’s horses, dumping Marie-Anne, Yvonne and Lee Swee onto the ground. Deputy Siva and Deputy Lestrade used the confusion to quickly potato Sheila and Hwee Fong, who let out a very quiet “ow” as she fell to the ground. Mayor Eliza and Kat retreated to safety, shooting potatoes in the gang’s general direction.

  Marie-Anne scrambled to her feet, potatoing Deputy Siva in the face, and was then immediately potatoed in turn by Kat.

  Yvonne and Lee Swee potatoed Deputy Lestrade multiple times before Sheriff Moran potatoed them both.

  James and Jiro the Blade, both still on horseback and unpotatoed, rode around, avoiding Sheriff Moran’s shots.

  Suddenly, Sheriff Moran heard the click click of an empty weapon. He tu
rned to see that both Mayor Eliza and Kat had run out of ammunition.

  He turned back to see James smile cruelly. “Get him,” he told Jiro.

  Jiro the Blade charged at Sheriff Moran, who had nowhere to go.

  At the last possible second, however, the mysterious stranger appeared, flying through the air, and potatoed Jiro the Blade, whose body turned and pulled the steam horse aside, missing Sheriff Moran by centimetres, and crashed into the side of the Sherlock Saloon.

  “Who are you?!” James snarled.

  “I-am-just-passing-through,” the stranger said, right before potatoing James right between the eyes. James fell off his steam horse.

  “Well, that did not go at all as planned,” James said.

  A few hours later, the entire Moknificent Seven gang was sharing the single cell in the Sheriff’s office, and complaining about each other’s stench.

  The citizens of Tumbleweed thanked their sheriff, deputies, mayor and saloon owner for defending them. Mike give away rounds of teh c at the saloon.

  Sheriff Moran was happy with a job well done, but he was hoping to catch him before the stranger left town. He had nearly missed him, but caught him leaving the unfinished provision shop.

  “Thank you for helping us,” Sheriff Moran said. “But I thought you were just passing through.”

  “I-am,” the stranger said. “But-I-wouldlikethis-place-to-be-bigger-the-next-time-Ipassthrough. Maybe-then-I-will-be-able-tofinda-decent-source-of-electricity.” Then he rode into the sunset on his steam horse.

  “How is he riding into the sunset when it was just noon?” Deputy Siva asked.

  “Please shush,” Sheriff Moran said. “Do not question the conventions of the genre.”

  THE END

  It was a long, long time ago in a place that resembled ancient China, but wasn’t. This land was far, far more ancient, ruled by a powerful magic, and filled with colours. There were also monsters—terrifying, terrible monsters.