The Stolen Chapters

by James Riley

“I’ve got this.”

  This is odd. There’s a boy in a mask, a mask adorned with a question mark. And he seems to be wearing an odd sort of hat and coat. He’s not one of the orphans though. Who might this—

  “Doyle Holmes,” the boy says, not sticking out his hand. “Great-great-great-great-great-grandson of Sherlock Holmes. I solved the mystery of these orphans, missing parents. They’ve all been returned home, and the missing diamonds were recovered.”

  But . . . you weren’t even supposed to learn of the diamonds for several books yet. This isn’t how this tale is supposed to go!

  “Don’t worry, I know the part you played in this too,” this Doyle boy says. “The police are on their way. Don’t bother running, I can track you anywhere.”

  The police? What? Sirens blare in the air behind me, and I turn to find several cars pulling up at once.

  Is this truly the end, before any of it began?

  Um. This was not how the book was supposed to go. Owen turned the page, and his eyes widened.

  The next page was blank.

  So were the next two hundred and fifty pages.

  “It’s not the only one like that,” the boy said in disgust. “This masked Sherlock Holmes grandson guy shows up in a ton of books. Not fantasy or science fiction, just the regular kind of books. Jason Scout: International Spy of Pancakes, Robin of Sherwood Lakes Subdivision, and a bunch more.” He sighed. “Is this some kind of stupid crossover? ’Cause I never liked his first book anyway.”

  “What first book?” Owen asked, barely able to breathe.

  “The Baker Street something or other,” the boy said. “Anyway, this is all lame. I don’t even want them. But you should complain to the companies that make these.”

  “The writers?” Owen asked absently, not even looking up.

  “Whatever,” the boy said. “Tell them crossovers are terrible, and no one wants them. I just want the Orphan Bunch.”

  And with that, he left, still mumbling to himself.

  Owen was out of his chair instantly, practically running to the children’s section. He scanned the shelves for a moment, then yanked out the book he was looking for.

  The Baker Street School for Irregular Children.

  He flipped it over and quickly read the back.

  The great-great-great-great-great-grandson of Sherlock Holmes has inherited the family school, named after Sherlock’s Irregulars, the group of children who used to help the great detective solve his mysteries. But Doyle Holmes wants to do more than just help troubled children learn from their mistakes. He’s ready to solve the biggest mysteries, capture the most dangerous crooks, and share his adventures with his trusty computer, W.A.T.S.O.N.!

  The cover confirmed it. There was Doyle Holmes, a boy in a Sherlock Holmes coat and hat, wearing a question-mark mask. The criminals don’t know his true identity, so they can never see him coming, the cover said.

  Wow. Yikes. That did not sound good.

  But somehow, this Doyle Holmes character was getting into other books, other stories, and solving mysteries, apparently before those stories even started. How was that possible? It wasn’t like he, Bethany, and Kiel had ever visited this book, so at least it wasn’t their fault. But still!

  Wait a second. What was he thinking? This was his chance. Not only to distract Bethany from what’d been happening with her father, but also to show that he wasn’t completely useless! Maybe that’d be Owen’s thing—being the research guy! Finding books with characters who were escaping their stories, and he’d send Bethany in to stop them? Maybe give her all the plans and cool gadgets, then make jokes when they came back, maybe every so often a hug, so Bethany knew he cared. Maybe this was his thing all along, to be the one finding important things for her to investigate!

  Or maybe this was just some stupid marketing attempt to get people reading the Baker Street series, since it looked like only one book in the series ever came out, and that was years ago.

  Either way, he’d take it to Bethany, and she’d have to check it out, with him and Kiel, too. And maybe this was the start of them doing some good now, instead of just having cool adventures and enjoying themselves.

  That thought made Owen feel just a bit proud of himself as he carried The Baker Street School for Irregular Children back to the checkout desk, where he dialed Bethany’s number.

  Just a bit? No. A lot proud.

  After all, this was completely Owen. He was going to totally get the credit for this.

  • • •

  “AUGH!” Owen shouted into the empty room in the police station, in spite of his pounding head. “Not again! It can’t be all my fault again!”

  CHAPTER 19

  01:11:12

  Mr. Gnomenfoot,” a man in a suit said to Kiel. “I’m Inspector Brown. I’m quite interested in who you are, to be honest. According to our files, you don’t actually exist.”

  “You’re not the first person to tell me that,” Kiel said, still feeling a bit woozy but giving the detective a wink anyway. “That’s a whole other story, but trust me, it was a fun time.”

  The man didn’t seem to notice his wink, which was unusual. “I’m told by a reliable source that you’re actually some sort of magician.” The man leaned back in his chair. “I love magic, myself. It’s like a puzzle, figuring out how the tricks are done. Haven’t had one magician fool me yet, though.”

  Kiel raised an eyebrow. “They’re not tricks, Inspector Brown. And I already figured out how magic works. Came from science, it was a whole thing.” He shrugged. “Still kind of turns my stomach, but it’s probably just time to accept that.”

  “Not a trick, huh?” Inspector Brown said. “Let’s see some. I bet I can tell you how you do it.”

  Kiel sighed. “I’m currently powerless. No magic.” He shook his head sadly. “Otherwise, this conversation would probably be going very differently.” He winked again, just to see if maybe it didn’t take the first time.

  “You seem to have an eye twitch,” Inspector Brown said.

  “I can see why your parents named you Inspector,” Kiel said.

  “. . . They didn’t. It’s a title.”

  Kiel grinned. “I’ve got seven of those myself. Some are a little more clever than others. I like Kiel Gnomenfoot and the End of Everything best, I think. It’s got the most appropriate level of importance.”

  “Enough games, Mr. Gnomenfoot,” the inspector said. “We have an eyewitness claiming that you set fire to the local library with your friend, Owen Conners. Owen’s already given us everything we need. He claims you did it.”

  Kiel frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him. Especially since that’s not true.”

  The inspector smirked. “Really? Because Owen couldn’t wait to throw you under the bus. I didn’t even need to ask. Volunteered that you covered the library in gasoline, lit the match, the whole deal. Are you saying that he’s actually the one who did it?”

  “Oh,” Kiel said, smacking his head. “I get it. You’re trying to get me to turn on Owen by lying about what he said. That’s fantastic, I didn’t realize the police still used that old trick.”

  Inspector Brown narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you were doing in the library, Mr. Gnomenfoot?”

  “I’d like to, but I don’t remember,” Kiel said, tapping his forehead. “Magic spell. You should ask your eyewitness about that. I’m fairly sure he was the one who made me cast it.”

  “You don’t remember.” The inspector looked annoyed.

  “Not a thing,” Kiel said, then caught himself. “That’s not entirely true, actually. Every so often I get this flash of memory, usually when something comes along to trigger it. You could maybe try saying different words, that might jog something, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “This could go a lot easier on you if you cooperated, Mr. Gnomenfoot,” Inspector Brown said.

  “Honestly, I don’t even have time for it to go easily,” Kiel whispered, leaning forward. “If I don’t
rescue my friend Bethany before this watch counts down, then something bad happens, and I never see her again. You’d think that the police would be interested in something like that. Doesn’t that sort of thing fall into your jurisdiction? Or am I getting things wrong in this world?”

  “In this world?” the inspector said, shaking his head. “I’m getting tired of this act, Mr. Gnomenfoot. Maybe let the fantasy stuff rest and just answer the questions?”

  “Fantasy stuff?” Kiel said, giving the inspector an indignant look. “You police are the ones working with a kid in a question-mark mask! Why not ask him about Bethany, and see what he says?”

  “I can keep you here overnight, Mr. Gnomenfoot,” the inspector said. “If your friend really is in danger, I’ll be happy to help, but I’m going to need you to be honest with me and tell me exactly what happened at the library. If not, we can talk again in the morning.”

  “Owen and I woke up in the library with no memory of how we got there. Then a guy named Doyle Holmes told us about Bethany, and burnt the place down,” Kiel said, starting to get slightly irritated. “I’m guessing Owen already covered this, didn’t he?”

  The inspector started to say something, but stopped and hit a button on the wall. “Yes?” he said.

  “Inspector, you’re needed downstairs,” said a voice muffled by a speaker on the wall with the mirror. “We found some sort of incendiary device in the evidence room.”

  The inspector’s eyes widened. “I’m on my way.” He jumped to his feet and pointed a finger at Kiel. “You’re staying here until I get back, and then we’re continuing this discussion.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll have broken out by the time you’re back,” Kiel said, giving the inspector a broad smile.

  The inspector finally smiled back. “Good luck.” He gave a brief nod, then walked out, locking the door behind him.

  “You’ll see!” Kiel shouted, jumping up and yelling right through the closed door. “I’ve broken out of prisons a lot more robotic than this one!”

  The door burst open, missing Kiel’s face by inches, and the girl in all black from before grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him out the door.

  “Hey!” he shouted at her, pulling his hand back. “I was making a point!” His eyes widened and he immediately jumped backward. “You!”

  The girl covered his entire face with her hand. “Shh!” she whispered, giving him an excited look. “You’re so right, it is me! We’ll talk later. We don’t want the police hearing you! Though that’d create all sorts of interesting challenges.” She giggled quietly. “You’d probably have to pay me more gold, though, if you wanted me to save you from that.”

  Kiel slowly pulled the girl’s hand off of his face, just staring at her. Pay her gold? Who was she? Why was she helping him escape now, after she’d just helped hand him over?

  He paused, waiting for a memory to flash into his head as the girl just grinned at him.

  “Weird,” he said. “I really thought that this would trigger some kind of memory.”

  “What an odd thing to say,” she said with a shrug. “You crack me up! C’mon, Magical Koala. Can I call you MK? Let’s go find that other kid, and then we’ll get you out of here.”

  Without waiting for a response, the girl turned and walked carefully down the hall, moving so silently that even Kiel was impressed. Seriously, who was this girl? Had they really hired her in some way?

  And where had they found gold?!

  CHAPTER 20

  01:08:34

  So Doyle Holmes had somehow been invading other people’s stories, and it’d been Owen’s idea to investigate. Which meant that all of this was his fault, just like when he’d messed everything up with Kiel and the Magister. Perfect! Was there anything that Owen didn’t ruin?!

  Owen lay with his face on the table, his head still aching from the flashback, which, granted, had told him a lot about why he was here now. But what had happened when Owen had gone to Bethany about Doyle? Had she listened, or left him to mess it up even further somehow? If Doyle was getting into other stories, did that mean he had found a way out of the fictional world? That’d explain a lot. But not how he knew who Bethany was, or Owen and Kiel, for that matter.

  ARGH. Mysteries were so annoying! And this whole flashback thing really was starting to get on his nerves. Why did he have to remember in pieces? Why couldn’t his whole memory just pop back into place at once?

  This was feeling more and more like a badly written story, and if there was one thing Owen hated more than mysteries, it was bad writing. At least with mysteries, you could flip to the end and see who the killer was.

  If only he could do that here, just flip to the end, and see where Bethany was, or why Doyle was doing all of this. Stupid real world. Not that the real world was acting very real right now. But that had to be Doyle’s doing. It had to be.

  Hadn’t it?

  Owen knocked his knuckles against his forehead, trying to bring back more memories when the door opened, and a girl dressed in all black pushed Kiel inside the room, then closed the door silently. Owen blinked in surprise. “Um, hello?”

  “Owen!” the girl said, grinning widely. “Boom, job fulfilled. Well, started. Isn’t this exciting? I’m having such a good time. Thank you for thinking of me!”

  Owen slowly stood up, having no idea how to react to any of that. “Uh, who is this?” he whispered to Kiel.

  “I have no idea,” Kiel whispered back. “Apparently, we know her.” He shrugged. “Oh, and she’s the one who got me caught by the police. I haven’t entirely wrapped my head around all of it yet.”

  The girl giggled at him. “You’re being so crazy right now, MK, I love it. It was all part of the plan, Owen! I needed you both together, and that was the easiest way.” She shrugged. “Kiel’s cape was going to lead to all kinds of interesting questions if I tried sneaking him in. Though I love it. I love it. I’m getting one. I have to have one.”

  “Who are you, again?” Owen asked, completely confused.

  The girl laughed, then leaped forward and hugged him. “That gets me every time!” She pushed him away hard, and Owen went falling back into the table as she ran a hand down over her face, making herself serious. “Now, back to business. When I give the signal, you both follow me, doing exactly as I do, okay? Let’s keep those mouths of yours clamped shut, boys. Let me do the talking. Good?”

  Owen opened his mouth to ask a question, and immediately the girl reached over and pushed it closed. “No talking!” she said, and laughed again. As he stared at her in shock, she went to the door, opened it slightly, and nodded outside.

  On the other side of the police station, a loud bang went off, and smoke began to fill the halls. The fire alarm blared, and everyone began running everywhere.

  “Quiet faces, you guys!” the girl said, and snuck out of the room. Kiel flashed Owen a huge grin, then took off after her, while Owen sighed and quickly did the same. This was it. He was officially a fugitive and was going to go to jail for the rest of his life. And his mother would show up at the police station only to find him missing. Apart from the him that was home, apparently.

  The hallway outside was chaos, with smoke, running people, and irritating sirens. A police officer ran up and grabbed the girl by her hand. “Where are you three going?” he demanded.

  “Inspector Brown told us to go to his office until this was over,” the girl said, her face a mask of innocence and confusion. “Is that wrong?”

  “No, do what he says,” the officer said, already starting to run toward the source of the smoke. “Just hurry.”

  “Yes, sir,” the girl said, then stuck out her tongue at him as soon as the officer turned around.

  Through the chaos, the girl led them to a door that actually said INSPECTOR BROWN.

  “We’re really going to his office?” Owen asked.

  “Quiet faces,” she whispered, then tried the handle, which didn’t turn. “Hmm.”

  “I can get this,” Kiel said, ste
pping forward and taking out the small wire he’d used before. “I’ve got some experience with locked doors.”

  The girl giggled. “Really, MK?” she said as her hands flew over the doorknob, then turned it. “You’ll have to teach me some new tricks!” The door opened and she shoved the two boys inside, then quietly shut it, locking the knob again.

  “How did you do that so fast?” Kiel said, his eyes wide with admiration.

  “Runs in the family,” she told Kiel, shrugging. “Now, get yourself out that window and quit being so crazy.” And to Owen, “Let’s push this desk against the door. Just for safety.”

  Kiel ran for the window and yanked it open. “Four floors up,” he said, grinning at Owen. “I like your style, Ms. Whoever-You-Are.”

  The girl sighed as she and Owen pushed the desk against the door. “I still don’t get this joke. How could you not remember who I am?”

  “It’s been an interesting night,” Owen told her. She made a kissy face at him, then raced to the window, where Kiel was stepping out onto the ledge.

  Owen frowned, hating his memory right then. Why would they have someone to help them? Where had they found her? And who was she, opening a locked door so quickly and setting off smoke bombs in a police station?

  He stared at the girl as hard as he could, willing the flashback to start. GIRL. GIRL. GIRL.

  And then a memory hit him right in the face.

  “Who can tell me the name of the president of the United States during World War II?” Mr. Barberry asked.

  No one raised their hand.

  “Really? No one knows?” Mr. Barberry said. “This was homework, people!”

  Owen gasped, but mostly at the boringness of the memory. That one had barely even hurt. What had happened? Had the flashback broken somehow?

  “Come on already!” the girl said with a huge smile, yanking him forward. “The plan takes exact timing, Owen. Get your silly behind out on that ledge before I kick you off of it!”

  Owen stepped out of the window and put a shaking foot out onto the incredibly shallow ledge. Who built ledges like this, anyway? Either they were big enough to walk on or they weren’t! Why split the difference?