The Holmes Brigade

by F. C. Shaw

  “We’re doing Winter Cleaning, sir. Headmaster wants me to clean the library.”

  Mr. Notch peered at Rollie’s armload of marmalade jars. “Oh!” He tapped his nose knowingly. “Let me just finish this last crossword clue, and I’ll get out of your hair. Funny expression that—getting out of one’s hair. I could very well see someone being trapped in my hair.” He patted his unruly gray hair and gave a high-pitched laugh.

  Rollie lined up the marmalade jars on the end table.

  “Percy!” called a familiar voice from the hallway.

  “In here, Amelia!”

  Miss Hertz scurried into the library in search of her colleague. The short, plump woman sported equally unruly red hair streaked with a few grays.

  “Hello, Print 20!” she squeaked at Rollie. “Very nice to see you. What have we here?” She lit up upon spotting the marmalade jars on the end table. “I adore glass jars! They always preserve the best fingerprints.”

  “Don’t go interrupting him,” Mr. Notch scolded. “Rollin has the very important task of cleaning the library.” He tried to wink but could not quite coordinate it. He ended up blinking and twitching as if he had something in his eyes.

  Miss Hertz nodded. “That is an important task to be sure. Percy, I locked myself out of my classroom and my keys are inside. Can you unlock it for me?”

  Mr. Notch stood and folded his newspaper. He dug around in his pockets. “I seem to have misplaced my keys.”

  “Quite a pair we are!” Miss Hertz giggled. “Let’s bother Yardsly. Happy cleaning, Print 20!”

  The two absent-minded teachers exited the library.

  Rollie closed the door, being careful to lock it as well. Flicking on the table lamp, he tried to get his bearings.

  The small library boasted eight broad bookshelves crammed with all varieties of hardback books stacked atop each other. Every twenty-four hours, the shelves would automatically shuffle all the books around. In reality, this was just a distraction from the secret library hidden behind the shelves, which hid top-secret files on Academy students and alumni. In August, Rollie had discovered his marmalade jar from Auntie Ei was a key to opening the third shelf.

  Rollie checked the bottom of the marmalade jars for their numbers engraved in the glass. He fitted the bottom of jar one into a small hole on the side of the first shelf. When he turned the jar with a click, the tall bookshelf yawned open. The secret shelves inside held students’ Sherlock Holmes volumes labeled with their names.

  Rollie did not dare open any of the books, for he knew they all contained private information on the students, such as addresses, IQ scores, family history, and medical records. He dusted and straightened the books, then closed the shelf with a click. He pulled out the jar, returned it to the table, and grabbed jar two. After cleaning the second shelf, he moved onto the third shelf. He was excited to clean this one because his volume was hidden there. He picked up the small marmalade jar and read the note from Auntie Ei still attached: A good snack for the LIBRARY.

  By giving him this jar, Auntie Ei had helped him solve the case of the MUS burglar, who had turned out to be Professor Enches. Obviously, she had wanted him to succeed as a detective and help Sherlock Academy then. The idea that she didn’t want him to be a student there anymore baffled him. There had to be more to that story . . .

  He fit the jar in the hole and opened the shelf. The secret shelves inside were very untidy, for Enches had rummaged through the volumes when he had broken in last August. He had been searching for Rollie’s volume.

  Rollie dusted and straightened. He was about to close the shelf when he decided to take a look through his Sherlock Holmes volume, his favorite book. His records were pasted to the inside cover—all information he knew about himself. He flipped through the worn pages to his favorite Holmes case The Adventure of the Empty House, which he had bookmarked with his Holmes telegram. To his surprise, he found several folded papers stuck between the pages. He opened one and recognized the handwriting.

  Sullivan,

  I know you have an interest in my great-nephew Rollin, but I would rather he not attend the school under the circumstances we discussed earlier.

  Lady Wilson

  Rollie gulped. So Yardsly was not the only person who had written a note about Rollie; Auntie Ei had written back. He opened another letter with the same monogram on the stationery.

  Sullivan,

  By no means accept my great-nephew Rollin under the circumstances we discussed. I do not wish him to receive special privileges because of who I am and who he will be.

  Lady Wilson

  Rollie’s middle fluttered. That elusive mention of circumstances puzzled him. What were these mysterious circumstances that had made Auntie Ei not want Rollie to attend? And what had changed? He read the last letter.

  Sullivan,

  I appreciate your confidence in Rollin. It seems he shall be attending the Academy after all. However, I would prefer he be expelled rather than accepted under the circumstances. We shall watch and wait.

  Lady Wilson

  Rollie’s heart raced. Auntie Ei had wanted him expelled? These circumstances must have been dire! He flipped through the rest of his volume in search of more letters. When he found none, he slid his book back into place.

  He slid it out again. Quickly, he stuffed the unsettling letters into his pocket. He returned his book, closed the shelf, and set his marmalade jar on the end table.

  His view of Auntie Ei started to tarnish. While she was privy to her own set of secrets, she was deliberately keeping secrets from him about him. He had always considered her his ally, for she had always wanted him to be a detective . . .

  Or had she? It seemed at first she had not—under the circumstances.

  Rollie needed to know the whole story, but now they were not even speaking to each other.

  And for the first time, Rollie did not trust Auntie Ei.

  Through the Window

  “Thank you for helping with Winter Cleaning.” Eliot was addressing the group now that they were gathered back in the teachers’ lounge. “I consider this my first successful event as Student Government President. I hope I can count on you all again to help with future events.”

  “So what exactly are our positions in this government?” Wesley asked.

  “Yes, are we automatically a part of it, or will there be elections?” Cecily chimed in.

  Eliot cleared his throat unnecessarily loudly. “That is still to be determined. I would like to hold elections when we come back to school.”

  “Will your position be up for election?” Rollie asked.

  “No, I already have my position as president.”

  “But we didn’t vote for you,” Tibby countered, polishing her little spectacles on her sweater.

  “But I founded this Student Government, so I get to be president,” Eliot said. “That’s the rule. If you had founded it, you would be president.”

  Rupert gasped. “You’re going to be president until you graduate from here? For the next three and a half years?”

  “Sounds like a dictatorship to me.” Margot shook her head of golden ringlets. “Not a proper form of government.”

  “It’s not a dictatorship because other elected students will have a say in decisions,” Eliot explained, his face heating. “Everyone will get to vote. I won’t make all the decisions. That’s how our Student Government works.”

  Wesley suppressed a mischievous grin. “So if the other students wanted to vote you out, they could.”

  “Well . . . yes,” Eliot answered weakly.

  Rollie patted Eliot on the back. “Don’t worry, we won’t vote you out. No one wants your position.”

  Eliot sighed with relief. “We’re done here. Thanks again, chums.”

  Everyone turned to disband when a familiar face poked into the room.

>   “Fa-la-la, boys and girls!” a high voice sang.

  “Lady Gram!” the girls cheered, rushing to give the petite teacher hugs.

  Gwendolyn A. Gram stood barely a head taller than the children. Her blond curls were tied back with a red ribbon. She wore a holly-berry red velvet dress and matching high heels.

  “I am so delighted to see you all!” she said, her blue eyes sparkling. “You saved me the task of addressing envelopes. I was just about to mail you the orchestra rehearsal schedule.” She gave a sheet of paper to all the children except Rupert and Margot. “I assume you’re still planning to be part of the orchestra.”

  The girls nodded eagerly, but the boys only shrugged.

  “Tsk-tsk, gentlemen!” She wagged a scolding finger at them. “I’m counting on your attendance. We have a little over a month to rehearse for the Valentine concert. It’s going to be a fundraiser for the school. I need everyone’s help!”

  “Speaking of which, Miss Gram,” Eliot said, “as President of the Student Government, I would like to offer my help with the Valentine fundraiser.”

  “How very kind, Eliot! I will most definitely enlist your help with the fundraiser. We’ll discuss it more when we come back from the holiday. Until then, I expect you all to attend rehearsal.” Miss Gram sighed. “Mr. Chadwick will be here to help.”

  “We’ll be here!” the boys said.

  “Very well. I’ll see you next week.” She gave out another round of hugs to the girls then flitted away down the hall.

  Cecily hugged Tibby and then Tibby climbed into a hansom to return home. Cecily also bid good-bye to Margot who boarded at school fulltime since she was also a Baker Street Irregular. There was some debate about whether to split up and take two hansoms to the Wilson manor since hansoms held only two passengers, but Eliot argued that four children were the equivalent of two adults and they would fit fine. The children were cramped, but that kept them warm.

  “I guess it’s too late to explore the house,” Wesley muttered.

  “My dad might let us go,” Rollie said. “He likes it when I do sleuth work.”

  “What are you talking about?” Eliot demanded.

  The other three glanced at each other before Rollie caught Eliot up on the new mystery in Herr Zilch’s vacant house.

  “It’s probably a hobo,” Eliot said flippantly. “But it would be exciting to explore an empty house. Oh, did you read my secret note on the back of the letter I sent you?”

  Rollie shook his head. “There was no note—it was blank.”

  Eliot rolled his eyes. “I wrote the message in invisible ink.”

  “How was I supposed to know that?”

  “I figured you’d guess I used invisible ink when you saw it was blank.”

  “How do I reveal it? We haven’t taken any chemistry classes.”

  Eliot narrowed his eyes at Rollie. “Are you serious? You really don’t know?”

  Rollie could not help scowling at his roommate. “Don’t make me feel stupid!”

  “I’m not! I’m just surprised—”

  “Tell us how to reveal it!” Cecily snapped. “Right now!”

  Rollie did not blame Cecily for being impatient with Eliot. Having endured a whole day of being bossed by Eliot, they were running low on patience with him.

  “First of all, you know what to use to write invisibly, right?”

  Rollie and Cecily shook their heads, but Wesley nodded.

  “Think of the tools you got for your class schedule,” he hinted.

  “The pen!” Rollie shouted excitedly. “It writes with invisible ink? I never tried it.”

  “I tried to write with it but couldn’t see anything,” said Cecily. “I thought it had no ink.”

  Eliot grinned. “There’s another tool. That pipe has the solution for invisible ink.”

  “Very clever!” Rollie exclaimed. “I can’t wait to try it out.” He glanced at the book Eliot held on his lap. “The Bird Watcher’s Guide for the English Moors. You’re into bird watching?”

  “No. This cover is a decoy.” Eliot slipped off the book jacket to reveal his textbook from school titled On Secret Writings: One Hundred Sixty Separate Ciphers. “I don’t want to raise suspicion if any MUS agents see me reading this. These are dangerous times to be a detective.”

  The hansom stopped, the driver dismounted, and the children hopped out. They headed up the front walk and almost made it to the front door when a shower of snowballs pelted them from the front porch.

  “Who threw that?” Eliot demanded with his hands on his hips.

  Boisterous laughter was followed by the appearance of two lanky teenagers exchanging high-fives.

  “Ed! Stew!” Rollie shouted.

  Edward clapped his gloved hands together. “Just a little homecoming welcome.”

  “All in good fun!” Stewart added, tossing his scarf back over his shoulder.

  “You won’t get away that easily.” Rollie scooped up snow, crunched it into a ball, and chucked it at his brothers. While Edward dodged it, Stewart was caught off guard. The snowball smacked him in the chest.

  The boys tried to peg each other with snowballs while Cecily squealed and ducked out of their line of fire. Rollie threw a fast and well-aimed snowball at Edward again.

  “Hey!” Edward hollered as the snowball exploded on his shoulder.

  “Good one, Rollie!” Wesley said. “Forget rugby—you should play cricket. You’ve got a good bowl!”

  After a few rounds of splattering each other with icy snowballs, the boys called a truce and everyone barged into the Wilson house. They stood in the entry hall dripping, panting, and laughing. While everyone else started stripping their outerwear, Edward and Stewart went in search of a pre-dinner snack.

  “Fact: You all are having too much fun!” Mr. Wilson declared from the parlor.

  He and Uncle Ky sat at a small card table by the fire. Atop the table, a jigsaw puzzle of an English landscape was taking form. The two men hunched over the puzzle, fitting different tiny pieces. Uncle Ky hummed a merry tune.

  “I love puzzles!” Eliot crowed excitedly.

  “You’re welcome to join us,” Mr. Wilson said.

  “Who is this boy? I daresay, Peter, I can never keep track of all your children.” Uncle Ky shook his head good humoredly. “I suppose you’re making up for the lack of offspring from either Eileen or me. Do you have more stored in the basement, eh?”

  Mr. Wilson chuckled. “This is Rollie’s roommate from school.”

  “I’m Eliot Simon Tildon.”

  “Well, Eliot Simon Tildon, are you any good at puzzles?” Uncle Ky snapped a puzzle piece into place.

  “Dad, can we do a little sleuth work outside?” Rollie asked without hesitation. “Before supper?”

  “Fact: Supper is in a half hour, so you had better hurry. Take your torches. There are some extra ones in the closet under the stairs.”

  The sleuths cheered. Everyone kept their winter garb on and got a flashlight. They headed back out into the frosty twilight. Their initial excitement gradually melted away to apprehension as they slushed through the snow toward Herr Zilch’s dark mansion. Their laughter and loud voices lowered to whispers as they neared the front porch. They ducked under the black-and-yellow striped caution tape that roped off the porch, and mounted the steps. With their flashlights, they inspected the large padlocks on the front double-doors.

  “The prowler did not use the front door,” Wesley deduced. “How about the windows?”

  Rollie and Eliot moved their beams along the window seams and tried to budge them. Cecily stood unusually close to Wesley.

  “There must be another way in,” Rollie whispered. “Around the back maybe.”

  “Should we be trespassing?” Cecily asked nervously.

  The three boys looked at her and then each oth
er.

  Rollie shrugged. “No one lives here. We need to investigate, especially if there is a mystery involving Herr Zilch. We need to for the good and safety of Sherlock Academy.”

  “You’re right,” said Cecily.

  Wesley led the group to the right side of the house. The garden gate was not locked, so they easily entered the backyard. Another door stood on the back porch; it was also padlocked heavily. They continued along the back of the house, marching single-file through the snow behind Wesley, pointing their flashlights every which way.

  “Hoot!” An owl flapped overhead.

  Cecily yelped and gripped Wesley’s arm. “Sorry, I’m a little scared, I have to admit.”

  “It’s okay,” Eliot assured her. “You’re a girl.”

  “Excuse me?” Cecily snapped. “That is the dumbest rule you’ve ever made!”

  “Shh!” Rollie tapped her. “Look down there.”

  They had reached the end of the house and stopped next to a window down by the ground.

  “Does this house have a basement?” Wesley asked.

  Rollie shrugged. “I guess. Ours does.”

  The three boys knelt in the snow and managed to pry open the window.

  “We found the way in!” Wesley exclaimed. “I’ll go first.”

  “I’ll bring up the rear,” offered Rollie. “Eliot, do you want to stand guard?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “I’ll stand guard,” Wesley decided. “You guys need to find your way upstairs to open that drape.”

  Rollie, Cecily, and Eliot slipped through the window and dropped down to the ground inside the basement. They picked their way through several empty wooden crates.

  Rollie led his comrades upstairs and into the kitchen, which was empty except for a cold black stove. The pantry shelves were bare and dusty, a few cobwebs running between them.

  The house smelled old and musty, the air was frigid, and all the furniture was covered with white sheets. They stuck close together and warded off shadows with their bright beams. They found their way to the grand staircase. A crystal chandelier shrouded with cobwebs hung menacingly from the vaulted ceiling. Carefully, they mounted the marble stairs.