Chapter Forty Nine: A Bit Not Good- Part Two (of three)


When the train stopped at Brockenhurst more than a dozen people got off the train- mostly families. It was half term and the draw of the New Forest had pulled quite a few people to the area. There was the usual confusion as passengers unfamiliar with the station looked about for exits and a taxi rank. At least this far out in the country, there were no electronic barriers. An old-fashioned platform guard checked their tickets and then they were out in the car park. Sherlock scanned the area, and then headed off towards a red car that had a sign on the door, "Beaulieu National Motor Car Museum."

"Door-to-door service, Sherlock? Why do we rate this when the others have to take a bus?" John pointed to the bus stop that had a Beaulieu sign over it. A queue of passengers was already waiting.

As Sherlock settled Sam in the back seat of the chauffeur-driven car, he replied, "For once, I enjoyed putting Mycroft's little black book of personal contacts to use. The owner of Beaulieu is Lord Montagu; turns out his second son went to Eton at the same time as my brother. I called in a few favours."

In the car, Sherlock asked Sam whether he had decided on what he wanted to see. Beaulieu was not only a museum of cars, but it also had a country home, a medieval abbey and lots of parkland and gardens. But, he thought it likely that the boy's interests would be automotive.

"There are three cars. Just three I want to see."

John was puzzled. "But there are lots of cars in the museum, Sam; don't you want to see them all?"

The lad just shook his head. "Just the three Formula Ones. The rest are just…cars."

When the car dropped them off at the museum, Sherlock took them past the ticket line and in through a gate marked "Staff Only" where they were met by a very attractive young lady wearing the museum uniform. In fact, as John's appreciative eye took in the view, the blonde was filling out the uniform rather well, her curves shown off to good effect in the navy jacket and pencil skirt.

She gave them a dazzling smile. "Hello, I'm Linda Carter. Welcome to the UK's largest private collection of automobiles, gentlemen. I've been told that you have very specific interests, so I won't give you the standard tour. Just tell me what you are interested in, and we will go straight there."

Sherlock took charge. "It's the Formula One cars that fascinate my young friend here. And once you get us there, my other friend will want you to take him on a personally guided tour of your special temporary exhibition."

John looked at him, puzzled. "Just wait, John. This is a present for you, too. But let's get Sam sorted first."

The three of them followed her in through the main entrance of a big barn like building. Once in, John stopped in awe. There were literally hundreds of cars, a magnificent range of everything from ancient Model Ts to Rolls Royce Silver Ghosts, and a huge variety of sports cars of every shape size and configuration. It was a dazzling, bewildering display of automotive treats, to bring delight to every male who had ever had a love affair with a car.

Linda took the three of them in tow and moved smartly through the displays. Sam was watching the bottom of Sherlock's coat, and just ignored it all. The museum was busy with holiday makers- fathers with their sons, teenagers ogling the sports cars, retired couples enjoying a day out. The noise of the crowds talking in such a big space echoed around the exhibition hall.

In one corner, there was a larger group gathered. Miss Carter asked them to let her through and the crowd of appreciative men parted to give them prime position on the rope that kept the cars safe from prying fingers. John worried about how Sam would deal with the people pressing around the exhibit. One look, however, dispelled his fears. Sam's attention was riveted to the car. It was like he didn't see anyone or anything else in the room. Now where have I seen that degree of focus before? John smiled.

Sam was really looking. Linda managed to create some space for Sherlock and John as well, and started talking beside the rope.

"This one is Damon Hill's Williams-Renault FW18, built in 1996." The blue car was covered in brand sponsorship logos, but John could still enjoy the extraordinary lines, from the huge wheels that characterised all Grand Prix cars to the odd spoiler configuration that was needed to keep a car capable of such speeds on the road. He wasn't a follower of Grand Prix racing; his appreciation of cars tended more towards the sports cars- the Jaguar E type was an all-time favourite of his.

The blonde carried on, "1996 was the year when Damon Hill got the World Title that year, by winning …"

Sam interrupted to finish the woman's sentence, "…eight races."

She smiled. "A fan then, are you?" The crowd around the car had started listening into her.

Sam just nodded. And then he started, "It's a V10 cylinder, pneumatically controlled 3,000 cc engine that can make 700 plus horsepower and 16, 500 revolutions per minute. Capable of 220 miles per hour. That's 354.06 in kilometres. This particular car is Chassis Two- that means Damon Hill didn't drive it in the actual races; he used it as a test car to prepare for his races. In 1996 he won the Driver's title with nine pole positions and eight outright victories. Chassis Two was used by Jacques Villeneuve to win his two pole positions and one victory early in the season, and as a result Williams-Renault won the Team Constructor's title that year."

John's smile just kept getting broader as the boy went on. The crowd was listening, but Sam couldn't care less. He was no longer self-conscious about his voice, just mesmerised, and the facts were pouring out of him. The halting monosyllabic exchanges on the train were forgotten. This is what he is good at. His eyes were devouring every inch of the car, just absorbing every detail as he started to move around it. The crowds stepped back to let him walk around the display.

When he got to the back of the car, Linda started to say something about the spoiler, but Sam cut her off. "It's not a spoiler, it's the drag reduction system. The DRS is an important part of the competition. In prep, drivers can use it anytime, but during the race, there are strict rules meaning it can only be activated when the car is within one second of the car in front. That's close." He gestured up to the cockpit. "There's a DRS dashboard light that shows when he can use it. But when you do, the next time you touch the brakes, then the DRS deactivates and the flap returns to neutral. You can't use it within the first two laps, and if the track is wet, they may decide it's too slippery."

John took a moment to glance at Sherlock who was watching Sam with a bemused smile. "I think your birthday present is a hit. You a fan of motor racing then? Do you understand what he's talking about?"

"Nope. Haven't a clue; not my area. I can drive, but what happens under the bonnet is just ...not interesting."

"Well, Sam would disagree."

"To each their own, John." He was content just to watch the normally non-communicative teenager talking at a mile-a-minute. Lestrade nephew was talking more to himself than anyone else; that others were listening didn't matter to Sam in the slightest.

After ten minutes, Linda gave up trying to keep up with the teenager. It wasn't exactly fair to expect her to know every one of the hundreds of cars' mechanical details, so she bowed to the boy's superior technical knowledge. John was beginning to find his own attention wandering under the onslaught of factual data.

Sherlock tapped Linda on the elbow and asked her to step back so they could talk without distracting Sam. "Miss Carter, my other friend is in need. Would you be so kind as to take him off to the temporary exhibition now? I can look after Sam, and we won't be going anywhere soon. After all, there is Michael Schumacher's Ferrari over there to keep him busy when he's done with this one. Why don't we meet up as planned for lunch at 1.30?"

"Are you sure?" When Sherlock made a shooing gesture with his right hand, John escaped with the Museum Guide.

"What's this exhibition then?" She was leading him toward an unmarked door, opening it with a Key fob.

"We will avoid the queue and go in the back door. I understand you are a fan of James Bond, Doctor Watson?"

"Yes", remembering the times that he had forced Sherlock to watch a DVD from his Bond collection. It's an integral part of our culture, Sherlock; you can't really be British if you don't know it.

"Then you're going to love this exhibition."

And he did- it was called Bond in Motion and it had every one of the iconic cars- all of the Aston Martins, the two BMWs, Goldfinger's Rolls Royce, you name the film, the car was there. But that wasn't all- to celebrate the Bond films' 50th anniversary, the museum had brought together planes, motorbikes (including the one Daniel Craig just used in Skyfall), speedboats and even a jetpack from Die Another Day – in short, a film-fan's dream. Linda was a wonderful companion; turned out she knew every key scene, even some of the lines that were used when the exhibits were on screen. They spent a lot of time laughing and trading snippets of dialogue.

When his eyes and brain were just about full, she took mercy on him and escorted him to the museum's restaurant. It was heaving by now, full of families enjoying a day out. She took him right past the main dining room and up a flight of stairs into a private room. There he found Sam and Sherlock standing at the window, eyeing the plates of sandwiches put out there.

Linda just said, "And this is where I have to leave you gentlemen. As we discussed, Mr Holmes, you will be collected again at 2.15 for the next part of the tour. Bon appetite."

Sherlock watched, as John thanked her profusely and rather longingly watched her leave. "Found a fellow Bond fan, did you?"

"Ummm, yes- I think she'd be a marvellous Moneypenny, don't you?"

"I've always thought of my brother's PA in that role, myself. Shame that her boss is the most boring man alive."

John laughed. He was in a good mood.

And so was Sam, who was tucking into a sandwich as if he was ravenous.

John asked him "How was the other car?" and braced himself for another lecture.

"Cool." He kept chewing, but then stopped. "But, I wish it had been the one being serviced and the McLaren was on display. That's my all-time favourite, and I missed it."

"Would seeing all eight of James Bond's Aston Martins be any compensation?"

Sam just swallowed and took another bite. "No. Road cars, no matter what brand, well, they are, just boring."

"Why?"

The teenager gulped down half a glass of water. "Because they're too easy. Anybody can win a race if you've got a bigger engine, lighter chassis or different tyres. What makes F1 interesting are the rules. Every car has to have all the big things identical under the rules; that forces the engineers to really push design to the limits. Even a tiny technical improvement can make a team win. It's…brilliant."

oOo

The three of them were standing in a garage. Not just any garage. This one was the cleanest, most high tech garage John had ever seen. More a science lab than anything else. They were surrounded by machines that did things John couldn't even guess about. And computers everywhere- laptops, PCs, tablets in the hands of the mechanics. Well, that's who they'd been introduced as, but again, they looked like scientists, with white lab coats rather than grease stained overalls.

They'd been brought here after lunch for a private viewing. In the middle of the garage was the object of everyone's attention: a fire-engine red Formula One car, the McLaren Honda MP4/4-6.

Sam had already given them the technical specs: built in 1988, this actual car- "yes, it's the real thing, not a replica" explained one of the engineers in response to Sam's whispered question – this car had won both the World Driver's and Constructor's trophies that year. It won fifteen of the sixteen Grand Prix races that year- and came in second in the one it lost. No other car had ever achieved it.

And Sam was being allowed to get up close and actually touch it. There were no ropes to stop him here. For the first ten minutes, he'd been so overwhelmed he couldn't speak. Just looked at everything and almost hummed in anticipation. He stood beside Sherlock and tried to control his excitement. Then, when he was invited to touch the car, his hand actually trembled as he put it onto the fiberglass body.

The chief engineer explained that the car had been removed from the exhibition for a week to allow some Coventry University graduate students to conduct tests on it. "It's still in perfect running order; Lord Montagu insists on it. So, while we have it up on blocks, we are also doing some maintenance."

If John thought that Sam had enjoyed his morning, he realised now that the teenager was really in heaven. He and one of the mechanics were trading chassis specification details just as fast as the teenager could get them out of his mouth.

"The engine's next door. We've been putting it through its paces, because that's what the Coventry guys want to study. Want to take a look?"

Sam could only nod, as if he didn't trust his voice.