by A. J. Low
ALSO IN THE SERIES
Sherlock Sam and the Missing Heirloom in Katong
Sherlock Sam and the Ghostly Moans in Fort Canning
Sherlock Sam and the Sinister Letters in Bras Basah
Sherlock Sam and the Alien Encounter on Pulau Ubin
Sherlock Sam and the Vanished Robot in Penang
Copyright © 2014 by Adan Jimenez and Felicia Low-Jimenez
Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Epigram Books
All rights reserved.
Published in Singapore by Epigram Books.
www.epigrambooks.sg
Illustrations by Drewscape
Book layout by Yong Wen Yeu
Published with the support of
National Library Board,
Singapore Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
Low, A. J.
Sherlock Sam and the cloaked classmate in MacRitchie /
by A.J. Low.; illustrations by drewscape;
–First Edition – Singapore : Epigram Books, [2014]
pages cm
ISBN : 978-981-07-7865-1 (paperback)
ISBN : 978-981-07-7866-8 (eBook)
1. Missing persons – Juvenile fiction. 2. MacRitchie Reservoir (Singapore)
–Juvenile fiction. 3. Children detectives - Singapore - Juvenile ficton.
4. Singapore - Juvenile fiction. I. Drewscape. II. Title.
PZ7
S823 -- dc23 OCN871920906
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Edition 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For the superheroes who inspire us everyday.
“Take-a-right-turn-at-the-next-traffic-light,” Watson said.
“Er, thanks, Watson,” Dad replied, half turning to look at Watson in the back seat, “but I’ve sent you guys to school before. I know my way.”
“You-have-missed-the-right-turn,” Watson said in his usual monotone as we zoomed past the traffic light—and beyond the entrance to our primary school.
“DAD!” Wendy and I burst out. Watson sat between us. I had never been late for school before, thanks to Mom’s F1 racer-level driving skills. I really did not want to start today.
“Oops,” Dad said, grinning at Mom, who sat in the passenger seat. She sighed and shook her head.
“Luckily, I made sure we left fifteen minutes earlier,” she muttered under her breath. “Also, why did you ask Sam to install a directional program in Watson if you were just going to ignore it?”
“Watson, recalibrate our new route, taking into account Dad’s slower reaction time,” I said. I could hear a soft whirring sound coming from Watson. He seemed to be doing as I had instructed, but with Watson being who he is, you could never be certain. He might have been using his internal fan to cool his circuit board for all I knew.
Mom patted Dad on the shoulder when he turned to squint at me disgruntledly. “Keep your eyes on the road, dear. If not, you’ll miss the next turn.”
Dad gave a long-suffering sigh and made a U-turn at the next turning.
I was very proud of the new GPS program I had installed in Watson the night before. Not only was it voice-activated, it also had a voice-recognition function that, well, recognised voices. For example, if Mom was the one who activated the GPS program, Watson would immediately select the routes with the fewest traffic lights even if they were longer because that was her preference. However, one user feedback I received was a complaint about Watson’s monotonous voice. Mom said he droned on and on and made the journey seem unbearably long. Plus, she said that he added unnecessary commentary too: “Please-do-not-press-the-brake-like-you-have-the-foot-of-an-elephant.” Also, I was beginning to suspect he purposely mispronounced the names of locations for comedic effect. I wasn’t laughing.
Dad was driving today because he had been invited to give a presentation to kick off our annual Science Week. Officially, it started next Monday, but because Dad could only get Friday morning off from work, our principal made an exception. I think it’s because he’s a genius engineer and also very funny (not always on purpose though).
We pulled up at the school car park and the security guard waved us in. Just in front of us was an enormous, expensive-looking black car. It was the biggest car I had ever seen.
“Wow,” Wendy said. “It’s so black it looks like onyx.” My sister was an aspiring artist who was extremely precise about colours.
“That’s a Rolls Royce, Wendy,” Dad said, also staring in admiration. “I think this is only the second time I’ve seen it in real life! Maybe I should trade in our Space Wagon for one—”
“We’d better hurry,” Mom interrupted. “Kids, you’d better get to assembly. Dad and I will head to the office to meet up with Mr Lim.” Mom was usually the one to drop us off at school in the morning, so she knew our schedules well.
“Sherlock! Watson! Wendy!” It was Jimmy standing at the school canteen, jumping up and down and waving to us as we got out of the car. Jimmy was my classmate in Primary Four.
“I-think-Jimmy-ate-a-sugar-donut-for-breakfast-again,” Watson said.
Watson and I went over to Jimmy while Wendy joined her Primary Five class to line up. Soon we were led into the assembly hall and sat down to read before the assembly started. I enjoyed the time set aside every morning for quiet reading. After the flag-raising ceremony, Mr Lim Cheng Tju, who was my form teacher, announced that we would have a very special guest speaker today: Dad!
Everyone was a little confused by the weirdly shaped machine that Dad rolled out. He called it an OHP, short for overhead projector. He was also holding transparent sheets of paper with writing on it. He said they were named transparencies because they were transparent. My dad is a genius engineer and scientist. He really is.
“Sorry, everyone,” Dad said. “I don’t know how to use PowerPoint. Plus it helps me think better when I write in my own handwriting. Not that I could write in someone else’s handwriting.” Dad paused and grinned widely. “The OHP was what we used when I was in school. When Singapore was still called Temasek.” He paused again and continued to grin expectantly.
The assembly hall remained eerily silent. Someone coughed. I turned back to look at Wendy who sat a few rows away on my right. She looked worried. She mimed something at me and on cue, Wendy and I burst out laughing, but when no one joined in, we immediately stopped. I saw that Wendy’s face was as red as the delicious buttered lobster we had for dinner last night.
“Hurm...anyway,” Dad continued, clearing his throat. “I’m here to tell you a little more about what it means to be an engineer!”
Jimmy and I cheered. I turned again to see Wendy and Nazhar clapping hard. Soon the whole hall was clapping and cheering and Dad seemed to relax a little more.
I had helped Dad prepare his presentation so I knew what he was going to talk about. However, I didn’t expect this revelation at the end:
“...it helps that I work in a place with the latest technology because it helps me with my research into making teleportation a reality. I’m very close to making a breakthrough! In fact, just last week—” Dad suddenly clamped both his hands over his mouth. His eyes were wide behind his glasses.
“Like in Star Trek?” someone shouted from the Primary Six classes.
“Can you teleport durians?” someone else called out from the Primary Five classes.
“Is it like the portkey in Harry Potter?” a girl called from the front row.
Then everyone started talking and
shouting out questions at the same time. The teachers had to try and calm the extremely curious students.
Dad shuffled his feet and wiped his sweaty brow. “Oh dear, oh dear. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Pretend I didn’t say anything! The end! Thank you for listening, everyone! Study hard and read a lot of books!”
And with that, Dad grabbed his transparencies and dashed off the stage. Then he dashed back, struck the SCIENCE! pose, shouted “SCIENCE!” and dashed away again.
There was a moment of stunned silence before the entire assembly hall erupted into applause and cheers. Dad was an accidental hit with my schoolmates!
After assembly was officially over, Jimmy, Watson and I started to make our way to our classroom when we bumped into Dad and Mom just outside the hall. Mom was comforting Dad about his slip. Mr Lim gave Jimmy and me permission to talk to them for a short while. Wendy asked her form teacher for permission as well and dragged Nazhar along. I saw Eliza stare at us from afar, but she made no move to join us and was quickly lost in the crush of students heading to class.
“Sometimes I think I’m thinking something, but I’m actually saying it out loud!” Dad said, pulling at the lanyard around his neck. It held his office key card as he was going to work later.
“I read on the Internet it’s called foot-in-mouth-itis, dear,” Mom replied, smiling slightly as she pried his hands away from his lanyard before he strangled himself. “But the kids will just think you’re a very cool genius scientist.”
I wanted to ask Dad if what he said was true, when another student suddenly appeared in front of my parents. I noticed that the student’s shoes did not look like the usual white Bata canvas shoes that we all wore. Instead, they seemed to be made of shiny leather and had the letters J and M sewn onto them. They looked very expensive.
“Hello, Sir, my name is James. James Mok. I recently moved here from London,” James said in a crisp British accent. “I am in Primary Four. I believe your son, Samuel Tan Cher Lock, is in the same level. And his curious robot too. I utterly enjoyed your talk just now.”
“Oh! Hello, James,” Dad said, beaming. “We hope you like Singapore so far. Have you tried our delicious chicken rice?”
“Dad, James has been here for two months already,” I said. “Of course he has tried chicken rice.” I couldn’t imagine anyone not eating chicken rice at least three times a week. Especially the roasted chicken drumstick with chili and black sauce dripping all over the warm, fragrant rice. So warm...so fragrant....
“Sherlock-is-imagining-himself-eating-chicken-rice,” Watson said.
“I don’t actually fancy chicken rice,” James said. “My cook prepares fish and chips or bangers and mash for me. Just like when we were in London. My dad is Singaporean, but I was born and have lived in London my entire life.”
I knew what fish and chips were, but I had never heard of bangers and mash. I made a note to investigate as soon as I could. I also made a note to visit the place with the most delicious fish and chips I had ever tasted in Singapore—Wok Inn Fish & Chips in Toa Payoh. The uncle there was very friendly and always gave me extra tartar sauce. He also taught me how to eat my fish and chips with malt vinegar to bring out the flavour.
“My-GPS-cannot-be-used-to-locate-a-restaurant-that-sells-bangers-and-mash, Sherlock,” Watson said. I glared at my robot.
“I am curious, why do you call him Sherlock?” James asked. “Might it have anything to do with his Chinese name, Cher Lock? They are phonetically similar.”
Everyone stared in silence at James. That usually only happened with me.
“That’s...that’s very perceptive of you, James,” Dad said, looking at me. “Since you’re new, did you have enough time to prepare something for the Science Fair for the upper primary students?”
“I am entering the Science Fair!” Jimmy burst out.
Everyone stared in silence at Jimmy. There was a lot of silent staring this morning.
“YOU?” Wendy said before she could stop herself. Mom nudged her and glared.
“I’m entering my—” Jimmy paused dramatically. His hands were clenched in front of him, and his cheeks were puffed out. He looked like he was holding his breath.
“Breathe, Jimmy,” Nazhar reminded him.
“Poooooof!” Jimmy finally exhaled. “My COMFORT-TOE!”
“Your what?” I asked. Even James was staring at Jimmy now.
“It’s a little comforter for your toes! For when you wear slippers, so your big toe and second toe don’t get blisters from that painful plastic piece!” Jimmy said. “It’s my COMFORT-TOE!”
Jimmy beamed and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a little piece of rectangular sponge covered in cloth that had been stitched closed. Jimmy demonstrated that the two ends of the sponge could adhere to each other because he had stuck Velcro strips on them. When they closed, they formed a ring.
Everyone stared in silence at Jimmy again.
“That’s actually a brilliant idea,” Mom said after a while. “I hate getting blisters between my toes.”
“Me too! You should get your mom to patent it, Jimmy,” Dad said, patting Jimmy on his shoulder. “Sherlock, you have very strong competition this year.”
I wondered if the Comfort-Toe would actually be allowed as an entry. It wasn’t exactly scientific, but Jimmy usually magically got his way one way or another.
“Dad and I have to go now, kids,” Mom said. “And I’m pretty sure all of you are late for your first class. Better hurry.”
“We need to pick up a bag of Red Vines on the way home,” Dad said to Mom. “I’m all out after yesterday’s all-nighter and I can’t think without my chewy red sticks of deliciousness.”
“Can you pick up more chocolate Khong Guan biscuits too?” I asked. “We mysteriously seem to have run out.” Mom gave me a look. I knew that look well.
“It was very nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Tan,” James said. He gave the rest of us a slight nod before walking up the stairs to his classroom.
“What a polite young man,” Mom said, still looking at me. “Wait, Sam? Is he the boy who’s been scoring higher than you on tests?”
“That’s him alright,” Wendy said. She stared at James as he made his way up the staircase.
“It was just two tests,” I said distractedly. I wondered if I would get a scolding if I asked Mom for something other than tuna sandwiches for lunch today. I decided it wasn’t the right moment.
We waved goodbye to Dad and Mom and started to head to our respective classrooms. As we walked to the staircase, Wendy abruptly stopped and said, “Hey, Sam, did you know that James Mok is taking part in the Science Fair too?” She pointed at the sign-up sheet pinned on the board in the hallway. Sure enough, there was “James Mok” written in precise, neat handwriting, right beneath my messy scrawl.
I clearly need to pay closer attention to my new schoolmate.
“Children, I need your attention, please,” Mrs Ong said.
It was Monday, the start of our Science Week. The entire school hall went quiet. Mrs Ong was our principal and while she was a soft-spoken person, all she needed to do was touch the shoulder of a noisy student and he or she would immediately fall silent. I think she has super powers.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Mrs Ong continued. “Now, I want all of you to listen to everything I say first before you start talking.”
We all nodded. Jimmy turned to look at me and mouthed the words “what’s happening?” I shrugged. It seemed serious. I wondered if something had happened to the canteen.
“Last evening, one of your schoolmates, James Mok, went missing at MacRitchie Reservoir,” Mrs Ong said.
Many students gasped. Jimmy grabbed my arm and looked at me wide-eyed. I turned to look at Wendy and Nazhar’s reactions and happened to catch Eliza’s eye. She had been looking straight at me, her expression frosty. She blinked and looked away immediately.
“Watson, record everything Mrs Ong says,” I whispered to my robot. “
We might need to refer to it later.”
“Your-wish-is-my-command.”
Mrs Ong had stopped speaking to give everyone time to react before she continued. “I know this is shocking news, but we mustn’t panic. The teachers and I have spoken to the relevant authorities and they are conducting a search for James as we speak. I am certain that he will be found very soon. In the meantime, if any of you are friends of James and have anything you want to talk about, please approach your form teacher, okay?”
“Did he spend the night there?” a tall boy from Primary Six shouted.
“Oh no! It rained last night!” a girl with spectacles said to her classmate. They were seated right next to me.
“Everyone, remember what I said. Remain calm and don’t speculate,” Mrs Ong said. “That means no gossip or rumours. Carry on with your lessons today, and if you have any helpful information, let your teachers or myself know. We are also in the midst of informing your parents so don’t be surprised if they come and pick you up today instead of letting you take your school bus home, okay? Now, let’s have our flag-raising, shall we?”
It was a sombre flag-raising ceremony and later many students—despite what Mrs Ong had said—were whispering to each other as they were led up to their classrooms.
“I’ve heard that MacRitchie is haunted,” a boy next to me said to his friend.
“There are no such thing as ghosts,” I muttered.
“How do you know?” the boy asked. He was a lot taller than me and looked like he should be in Secondary One.
“Because we solved the Case of the Ghostly Moans in Fort Canning,” Jimmy replied. He glared at the boy. Jimmy was my staunchest defender and biggest fan. If I were a pop star, Jimmy would meet me at the airport holding a banner with the most glitter.
“I-have-recordings-of-the-screams-of-fear-to-prove-it,” Watson said.
Watson would be the one who would trip me before I went on stage.
When we entered our classroom, Mr Lim was already at his desk. He stood up to walk to the front of the desk and lean against it.
