The Adventures of the Sherlock Holmes Club: The Case of the Elusive Headquarters (987 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesLabels: SherlockHolmesClub
Rating: 1.92 on 33 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Thorpe (View user info) at 2007-03-01 03:04:53 EST
The Sherlock Holmes Club had modest beginnings. It was the brainchild of Thorpe and his friend Daniel, his friend from a few doors up, when they were both 8 years old. The conversation during which the idea was proposed went like this:
"Let's start some clubs!"
"OK. What for?"
"For stuff we like! Let's start the Star Wars Club. And the Sherlock Holmes Club!"
"Yeah, and the Cricket Club! And the Tintin Club. What else?"
"How about the Asterix Club?"
"OK!"
The Sherlock Holmes Club enjoyed considerably more success than any of its contemporaries, mainly due to the fact that none of the other ones were ever mentioned again.
Little Thorpe was especially bound up in Sherlock Holmes, and had his heart set on becoming a private detective. He even had a deerstalker hat and a plastic pipe which he would take with him everywhere his parents allowed him to, which wasn't very many places. By the age of 8 he had almost finished reading the Complete Sherlock Holmes Anthology, which took pride of place on his bookshelf, alongside Enid Blyton's Secret Seven and Famous Five series, though one thing had always bothered him about these - as far as one of them was secret and the other was famous, the two organisations seemed to shoulder a pretty even workload.
Daniel, while less enthusiastic about Sherlock Holmes himself, was also hooked on detective work. Assorted detective books and kits lay around his room, most of which had titles like "The Ultimate Hush-Hush Handbook for Kidz" and included tear-out nametags for codenames. It took a surprisingly long time for Thorpe and Daniel to realise that their parents weren't just amazingly good at guessing codenames, and that they had in fact committed a grave error somewhere in the secrecy process.
The Sherlock Holmes Club seemed a natural development, as they developed a yearning to go beyond mere amateur meddling. They needed a secret organisation, something with ranks and a Constitution, which would instil in its members a sense of discipline, and possibly attract valuable mystery-solving business.
The first thing that they had to was recruit some more members. So one fine summer day Thorpe and Daniel went across the street, making sure to look both ways, to pay a visit to the Shaw boys. The Shaw boys, practically identical blond-haired sports-lovers, were not into detective work as such, but had always relished the opportunity to grab some binoculars and practice "spying", especially when it meant they would be finding out what their next-door neighbour was doing with his girlfriend. They joined the Sherlock Holmes Club with enthusiasm. Tim was a year younger than Thorpe and Daniel, but about a foot taller. His little brother Scott was two years younger than him, making him 5 at the time. The rest of the boys wondered if this might present a problem if the going ever got tough, so Thorpe, with Tim's permission, took him aside into the Shaws' living room.
"It's very brave of you to join, Scott" said Thorpe, putting a hand on his shoulder, "but if you think you might ever get scared, now is the time you need to tell us."
Scott's eyes widened. He took a moment to consider this, before steeling himself and jutting out his jaw.
"I'm ready for anything" he replied.
Meanwhile, Tim and Daniel had gone downstairs to look for a secret location for the Sherlock Holmes Club. The Shaw's steel garden shed looked to be the most obvious choice, but when they opened the doors and looked inside, they began to have second thoughts.
"If we move the lawnmowers out, we could all stand in that corner" said Daniel.
"Dad says we can't move the lawnmowers."
"Then can you move the cabinet? I can't, it's too dirty and my shorts are clean."
"Dad says we can't move the cabinet."
"OK, then help me move this tray of rusty hedge-clippers."
"Watch out for that redback."
"I see it. You're standing on a dead lizard, too."
"Cool. Dad says we can't move any of the tools."
"OK then we'll have to all sit here on the barbecue. Close the door, so we can think of a password."
Tim obediently pulled the door shut. Blackness filled the tiny shed.
"It's too dark now. I can't even see you" he complained.
"That's even better, now our identities are even more secret."
"Where are you?"
"I'm sitting on the barbecue. Open the door if you need to see where I am, you need to jump over the hedge-clippers to get up here."
"Hahahahaha you have black stuff all over your shorts."
"Damn, these were clean. Oh well, they're already dirty now, I can move the cabinet."
"Dad said you can't."
"Close the door and he won't find out, Tim, he doesn't have the password."
Daniel paused.
"I found more redbacks."
A knock on the shed door interrupted the boys' planning.
"What's the password?" yelled Daniel.
"We didn't make up a password" said Tim. "This headquarters sucks."
"I don't know the password!" yelled Thorpe from outside. "Scott's still joining the Sherlock Homes Club though! Let me in!"
"You can't come in if you don't have the password!" yelled back Daniel.
"We were just about to leave" whined Tim.
"I'll break down the door if you don't let me in!" screamed Thorpe.
"You can't, you're too short!" came the reply.
"This is Dad's shed!" yelled Tim, starting to cry.
BANG
Thorpe had shoulder-charged the flimsy metal doors. Amazingly, they buckled a little, but did not implode inwards as he had hoped. The door was bolted. Inside, Daniel moved one of the lawnmowers to brace against the door.
BANG
The second charge didn't do much more than the first, except strengthen the resolve of the two adversaries.
BANG
Scott sat on the lawn outside and watched Thorpe charge the door for a few more minutes before getting up and walking over.
"Look" he said, pointing at the door.
"What?"
As Thorpe prepared for another charge, the sound of Tim's muffled bawling from inside the shed hung in the air.
"The bolt's on the outside" said Scott gravely. "This door opens out."
Silence.
Then Thorpe leapt at the door and bolted it shut, milliseconds before another loud BANG shook the shed, this time from the inside.
Tim's crying returned, this time louder than ever.
"You can't come out until you say the password!" Thorpe yelled triumphantly.
"What is all that noise?!"
Mrs. Shaw walked out onto the back deck with a bewildered look on her face. As soon as she saw the shed door, by now covered in dints, the look changed straight from bewildered to vengeance-demon, without passing through any in-between stages.
Thorpe and Scott took one look at each other and ran.
Later that day it was revealed to them that Tim and Daniel took the blame for the entire incident.
* * *
It was several days before the Sherlock Homes Club made another attempt at finding a hideout. The boys were gathered around the desk in Thorpe's room, looking over a plan he had drawn of the ultimate underground headquarters.
The entrance, a narrow hole about one metre in diameter, was situated underneath Thorpe's house. From there, a tunnel snaked down to about fifty metres below ground, before suddenly widening into a square room, complete with a television and three-piece lounge suite.
"Do you think we could do it?" asked Thorpe. He was a little concerned.
"There's no reason why not..." mused Daniel, tapping his fingers on the table. "What I'm more worried about is how do we get the couch down there?"
Five minutes later, the Sherlock Holmes Club was assembled underneath the house, facing the small patch of dirt that was to be the entrance to the hideout. Each member held a cricket stump.
"We can only have one person dig at a time" said Thorpe. "I'll go first."
The rest of them stood around, hunched over to avoid hitting the beams over their heads, and watched him hack at the uneven dirt, which was surprisingly hard, with the sharp metal point of the stump. After about ten minutes he had carved out a narrow dint in the ground, about ten centimetres deep and a foot long.
"We might be here all day, you know" he remarked, exhausted, as he handed over digging duties to Tim.
Tim, who had been complaining about the lack of progress, stood in front of the dint, which was no deeper now than some other areas of the uneven ground under the house.
He gritted his teeth, raised the cricket stump high above his head, and brought it down through his right big toe.
* * *
The most promising development in the search for a headquarters came two days later, as Tim was sitting on the deck at Thorpe's house peeling back the bandages around his foot to show off the bloody toe to Thorpe and Daniel. At some point during that week Daniel had heard stories of a secret World War II underground base somewhere in Brisbane, and the first Thorpe heard of this was when Daniel started staring at a small concrete slab in the corner of the yard. The slab had an area of about one and a half square metres, and previously Thorpe had simply assumed that it had once been the base of an aviary, or an outdoor toilet.
To Daniel now, it represented an intriguing possibility. There was no reason for a mysterious concrete slab in the corner with nothing on it, was there?
"What are you looking at?" said Thorpe.
"How long has that concrete slab been there?"
"A real long time. Since even before I was born. Why?"
"I think... it could be the new headquarters of the Sherlock Homes Club" said Daniel, stroking a beard that wouldn't appear for another decade.
They walked down (Tim limped) to the slab and stood on it. Daniel explained about the World War II base.
"There has to be a switch around here somewhere..." he finished, then began to prowl around the surrounding area, pressing knots on the brand new fence and looking under leaves.
The others soon got the idea and spread out, looking for the secret switch that would cause the slab to lift up and slide across to reveal the tunnel below. Would it be filled with weaponry? Would there be dead soldiers in there? The possibilities were endless. All they needed was that blasted switch.
Thorpe paused and looked around again, and something caught his eye. It was two little green shoots sticking out of the crooked tree next to the slab. Walking over to them, he grabbed one of them and gave it an experimental twist.
"Have you found something?" said Tim, and the two came over excitedly.
"I think I might have!" Thorpe lied through his teeth. "I twisted this, and I think the concrete moved!"
"That's it!" yelled Daniel. He grabbed the shoots and began moving them back and forth.
"No, not like that!" Thorpe grabbed them back and began to turn them both anti-clockwise.
The three stared intently at the concrete slab, willing it on.
"Did you see that?!" said Tim.
"I think so! Did it move?"
"I'm not sure!"
"I think it's stuck! It needs to be forced open!"
Daniel and Tim began lifting with all their might, and Thorpe tried all sorts of combinations on the tree, but it just wasn't moving.
"I think we need more leverage" said Tim. "I'll go get some cricket stumps!"
He hobbled off, and returned a few minutes later holding two stumps and followed by Scott.
"Now, Scott, it's your job to watch the concrete carefully. If it starts to move you've got to tell us straight away!"
Scott nodded quickly, and lay down beside the slab. He grabbed his eyelids and held his eyes wide open, centimetres from the concrete.
If it moved, he'd be ready.
"OK go!" yelled Daniel. He and Tim dug their stumps in at the sides of the slab and began heaving. Thorpe began carefully rotating the little green shoots, focused entirely on finding the right combination.
"STOP!"
"What?"
The others jumped back, as Scott got up off the ground.
"What if something comes out of there?"
They breathed sighs of annoyance.
"We don't need to worry about that, Scott" explained Tim. "Besides... I've got a cricket stump."
The four resumed their stations.
"Go!"
There passed about two minutes of intense concentration this time before there was another shout. This time it came from Thorpe, and was one of extreme disappointment.
"What?"
"They broke off!"
He held aloft the tiny, now-mangled pieces of plant life.
They all gathered around the tree, but it was no use. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't fit the shoots back on to the tree trunk.
That night, they all went to bed knowing they had been so close to having the best headquarters ever.
* * *
These were dark times for the Sherlock Holmes Club. With nowhere to meet, they weren't even really a secret organisation. A secret organisation needed a secret location to be kept secret. The Sherlock Holmes Club seemed likely to go the same way as the Victor and Hugo Club and the Calvin and Hobbes Club.
When Thorpe woke up the next morning though, his dad greeted him with an amazingly generous proposal.
"Hey mate, if you can clean out the shed, I'll let you use it as the headquarters for the Sherlock Holmes Club!"
This was great news! Thorpe thanked his dad excitedly, before laying down some ground rules.
"If the Sherlock Holmes Club is having a meeting, you can't come in unless you know the password. Or one of our codenames, but then you can only come in for twenty seconds to give a message to that person."
Thorpe's dad shook his outstretched hand.
"Okay... M143."
Thorpe looked down at the nametag he was wearing and quickly covered it up.
As he ran out the back door to go get Daniel and the Shaw boys, he almost heard his mum yell out to his dad "Have you cleaned out that shed yet?"
* * *
It was finally here. The day of the grand opening of the Official Headquarters of the Sherlock Holmes Club had arrived. Thorpe's shed was identical to the Shaws', except that it was now much cleaner. When they shut the door they couldn't see anything, and every few minutes they had to open it again so they could breathe, but that didn't matter - the Sherlock Holmes Club had official headquarters. Inside sat a blackboard, a filing cabinet, two "wooden horse" carpentry stands for the Shaws' seats, and two director's-chair style foldout chairs for Thorpe and Daniel who, as they explained, thought up the club and thus had seniority.
Outside, sat at tables on the lawn, was an assortment of Thorpe's parents' friends, here for the grand opening. His parents had used the opportunity to organise some sort of afternoon tea, but unfortunately none of them were paying little Thorpe the slightest attention as he stood up to a portable lectern to begin the opening ceremony.
"Excuse me..."
The other three members of the club stood off to the side of the shed. Daniel held a pair of scissors, ready to cut the ribbon that they had stretched across the flimsy shed doors.
On the lawn, dozens of middle-aged suburbanites continued to chat amongst themselves and eat their cake, oblivious to the purpose of the whole event.
"May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen..."
Eventually he gave up, turned to the others, and shrugged.
Daniel cut the ribbon.
It was a fittingly anti-climactic beginning for the Sherlock Holmes Club.
STAY TUNED NEXT WEEK FOR: THE CASE OF THE MISSING MYSTERIES!
User Reviews
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2007-07-06 17:33:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hahaha
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2007-04-25 12:11:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
almost peanut butter, and Asterix rocks
Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2007-03-16 11:56:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by paul_anthony (user info) at 2007-03-02 00:50:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2007-03-01 23:52:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-03-01 19:57:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by beeltea (user info) at 2007-03-01 19:02:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
well done
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-03-01 18:01:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'll just stick to Encyclopedia Brown, thanks
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2007-03-01 16:24:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
We were too lazy to dig a cave, we had a treehouse though.
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2007-03-01 16:03:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I had a club called 'The Three Detectives' it was me and siblings we made my sister Vicki be the receptionist.
We, however, solved AN ACTUAL MYSTERY.
I think I might write about it.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-03-01 16:01:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2007-03-01 12:39:23 (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow.
Look at you.
===
HAHAHA
Submitted by Zebra (user info) at 2007-03-01 14:24:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-03-01 13:11:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by manic_impressive (user info) at 2007-03-01 06:54:49 (#)
Ranking: 2
When i was 8 i contorted myself into a ball and pretended my teddy bears were gang-raping me by fucking myself in the ass with a lint remover, while playing Meatloaf's "I would do anything for love" at full volume and smearing lipstick everywhere.
-----------------------
Damn, that's just not RIGHT.
Thorpe - fine job.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2007-03-01 12:39:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow.
Look at you.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-03-01 11:32:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by tiaprae (user info) at 2007-03-01 10:42:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
We had Harriet the Spy, unfortunately we had no headquarters.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-03-01 10:25:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"I can't, it's too dirty and my shorts are clean." I'm not sure why, but I laughed far too much at this line.
Kids' clubs were the best. Us girls had them too, but we were less Sherlock Holmes and more Charlie's Angels.
Submitted by forensicgirl3 (user info) at 2007-03-01 10:20:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Hahaha nice!
Thorpe, I'll be writing a more detailed e-mail to you shortly. I wanted to do it yesterday, but it was insanely busy.
:)
Submitted by CHR15 (user info) at 2007-03-01 10:16:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-03-01 10:14:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Only one hairball on the floor this morning. This makes me happy.
Submitted by CookieLass (user info) at 2007-03-01 10:09:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
tee hee
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2007-03-01 09:26:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That was good; I will look forward to more Mr Thorpe.
Submitted by Director (user info) at 2007-03-01 08:10:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2007-03-01 07:40:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Needed picshurs.
Submitted by manic_impressive (user info) at 2007-03-01 06:54:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
When i was 8 i contorted myself into a ball and pretended my teddy bears were gang-raping me by fucking myself in the ass with a lint remover, while playing Meatloaf's "I would do anything for love" at full volume and smearing lipstick everywhere.
PS: Unban Phallic
PPS: This was fucking great.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2007-03-01 05:57:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I love d_r
Submitted by Danger_Ranger (user info) at 2007-03-01 05:07:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
When I was eight I used to dress up in my grandfathers old army gear - dress jacket, slouch hat, garters, webbing, canteen, the lot. In between recon missions gathering vital intel pivotal to sinking the yellow perils thrust down through the south pacific, and having my grandparents neighbour old Mrs. Inglis lean over the fence as I was leopard crawling through the dense Papuan jungle, saying "Hello Danger don't you look adorable, come over and meet my sister - I've got lemonspread sandwiches", I once lit a banger and threw it at my little sister, who I was convinced was a jap patrol outflanking my flank. Sweat poured from my brow and ran into my eyes, I was feverish with malaria and my aim failed me, the firework landing and exploding on the garden path right next to a visiting Mrs. Inglis, who was sipping homemade lemonade with the grown-ups, it gave her such a fright she farted like a trumpet, and I pretended it was the distant sound of artillery pounding the heavily wooded mountains to the west, as I snuck slowly backwards and vanished like a square jawed, steely eyed hero into the humid undergrowth.
Submitted by needsnothing (user info) at 2007-03-01 05:06:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"Enid Blyton's Secret Seven and Famous Five series, though one thing had always bothered him about these - as far as one of them was secret and the other was famous, the two organisations seemed to shoulder a pretty even workload."
Great post!
Submitted by Sphagnum (user info) at 2007-03-01 04:09:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Mike-Mc (user info) at 2007-03-01 03:57:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ChristPuncher (user info) at 2007-03-01 03:36:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
cricket?
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2007-03-01 03:23:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
we're drunk ya faggots
Yo bitch. Me and Thorpe here. Thorpe's pretty fucking smaashed. G\ood fun. I'm noty too bad, but i'm having trouble typing here. hahhaah. Good time.s Sleep now..................................................... -2~~~~~~~~~~~!!!!!
Yayyyyyyyyyyy hahahaha
Yep
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2007-03-01 03:15:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ahahahhahahaha
You're a funny little bastard.
Back when you and williamson posted that picture of yourselves drunk and sloppy, who would have believed you had this much potential?