Well, I'm at it again. Solei Watson and Alexander Holmes, members of the band The Irregulars, have a mystery to solve. I tried for some length here, and failed miserably. :) Ah, well, guess I'm just a short story kind of gal.
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson belong to that wonderful genius Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as do any plots and minor characters I may have "borrowed" along the way. This is jsut for fun, not for profit. Honest. If you don't believe me look at my bank account.
***********************************************************************
I, Solei Anne Watson, was bored. Not that restless sort of bored you get in the middle of algebra class or that annoyed boredom that comes three seconds after you realize you're paying for 150 channels and not a single one had anything good on it. No, I was bored in that lethargic sort of way when you're sitting on the couch at three in the afternoon on some warm summer Saturday, and you feel like you should be doing something but can't quite work up the energy to get up.
The fact that it was a Wednesday morning wasn't helping any. I was ditching World History but I didn't care. I didn't feel like mustering the energy to gather my books. Beside, it was just history. Some old guy declares war on some other old guy and a whole bunch of people die. Then they sign a treaty at some place no one has ever heard of and nothing changes.
The school paper lay on the floor. I rolled over on the bed to reach it, but it was just beyond my fingertips. I made one last attempt and snagged it. Leafing through it idly, I saw nothing that caught my interest, until the last page.
Vandalism on Campus
April 19th, in the evening hours, a campus art room was vandalized.
The party or parties responsible overturned several canvases, and ripped apart
the works of several student artists. Professor Saland had this to say, "This
has been very upsetting to my students. They leave their works here to prevent
accidental damage. I can't imagine why anyone would do this." Prof. Saland is
offering a reward of L 500 to anyone with information on the culprit. Campus
security is asking those with information to come to their main office in the
Student Union.
I had just finished reading when a sharp rap came at the door. I groaned to myself and dragged myself to the door. I didn't take that long about it, but when I opened the door, no one was there. Glancing up and down the hall, I saw a familiar back.
"Hey Holmes!" I called. Alexander Holmes, bass player for The Irregulars, chemist, and all around smart guy turned and faced me with a look of annoyance on his handsome face.
"I thought you might be in class." He said. I shrugged but didn't answer. "I've found an interesting case, I thought you might want to come along."
Ever since I helped him solve the attempted murder of our best friend and lead singer, Lorelei Moriarty, Holmes and I had worked together on those puzzling little mysteries of campus life, like who stole the tv out of the common room in residence hall. "Sure," I said, "what happened this time? Lana lose her cat?" Holmes frowned, remembering that short-lived case.
"No. Did you hear about the art room being robbed?"
"I was just reading about it getting vandalized, I didn't know anything had been taken."
"Well, nothing important but Professor Saland asked me to help investigate. I thought another pair of eyes might help." The thing about Holmes is he likes you to think he's indifferent to the world, and for the most part, he is. But him and I seemed to hit it off. Plus, investigating a crime, however petty, sure beat staring at the ceiling.
"Couldn't hurt." I agreed, and grabbed my backpack.
***********************************************************************
I love reviews. These are mainly short chapters, so they should go up pretty quick. Questions, comments, ideas, criticism, complaints, meandering thoughts, should all be directed at that little review button. Flames shall be used to heat my room. (It gets bloody cold in here, and it's supposed to be spring!)
.·´¨`·»¦«·Kerowyn ·»¦«·´¨`·.
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson belong to that wonderful genius Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as do any plots and minor characters I may have "borrowed" along the way. This is jsut for fun, not for profit. Honest. If you don't believe me look at my bank account.
***********************************************************************
I, Solei Anne Watson, was bored. Not that restless sort of bored you get in the middle of algebra class or that annoyed boredom that comes three seconds after you realize you're paying for 150 channels and not a single one had anything good on it. No, I was bored in that lethargic sort of way when you're sitting on the couch at three in the afternoon on some warm summer Saturday, and you feel like you should be doing something but can't quite work up the energy to get up.
The fact that it was a Wednesday morning wasn't helping any. I was ditching World History but I didn't care. I didn't feel like mustering the energy to gather my books. Beside, it was just history. Some old guy declares war on some other old guy and a whole bunch of people die. Then they sign a treaty at some place no one has ever heard of and nothing changes.
The school paper lay on the floor. I rolled over on the bed to reach it, but it was just beyond my fingertips. I made one last attempt and snagged it. Leafing through it idly, I saw nothing that caught my interest, until the last page.
Vandalism on Campus
April 19th, in the evening hours, a campus art room was vandalized.
The party or parties responsible overturned several canvases, and ripped apart
the works of several student artists. Professor Saland had this to say, "This
has been very upsetting to my students. They leave their works here to prevent
accidental damage. I can't imagine why anyone would do this." Prof. Saland is
offering a reward of L 500 to anyone with information on the culprit. Campus
security is asking those with information to come to their main office in the
Student Union.
I had just finished reading when a sharp rap came at the door. I groaned to myself and dragged myself to the door. I didn't take that long about it, but when I opened the door, no one was there. Glancing up and down the hall, I saw a familiar back.
"Hey Holmes!" I called. Alexander Holmes, bass player for The Irregulars, chemist, and all around smart guy turned and faced me with a look of annoyance on his handsome face.
"I thought you might be in class." He said. I shrugged but didn't answer. "I've found an interesting case, I thought you might want to come along."
Ever since I helped him solve the attempted murder of our best friend and lead singer, Lorelei Moriarty, Holmes and I had worked together on those puzzling little mysteries of campus life, like who stole the tv out of the common room in residence hall. "Sure," I said, "what happened this time? Lana lose her cat?" Holmes frowned, remembering that short-lived case.
"No. Did you hear about the art room being robbed?"
"I was just reading about it getting vandalized, I didn't know anything had been taken."
"Well, nothing important but Professor Saland asked me to help investigate. I thought another pair of eyes might help." The thing about Holmes is he likes you to think he's indifferent to the world, and for the most part, he is. But him and I seemed to hit it off. Plus, investigating a crime, however petty, sure beat staring at the ceiling.
"Couldn't hurt." I agreed, and grabbed my backpack.
***********************************************************************
I love reviews. These are mainly short chapters, so they should go up pretty quick. Questions, comments, ideas, criticism, complaints, meandering thoughts, should all be directed at that little review button. Flames shall be used to heat my room. (It gets bloody cold in here, and it's supposed to be spring!)
.·´¨`·»¦«·Kerowyn ·»¦«·´¨`·.