the case of the missing books
... a problem that has been brought to my attention that can only be taken care of by someone with your great-great-great Grandfather’s talents. Since your father is traveling abroad, the matter must be handled by you.” “Miss Watson, may I remind you that I am only ten years old!” Sherlock was sounding like an adult at this point. I have done my best to be a normal student, to blend in with my peers. I have even pretended to have difficulty with certain subjects in order to mask my true abilities. I am just trying to fit in. I have made friends and have not been made fun of. You will recall that this is quite the opposite from my previous experiences at other institutions.” At this point I thought that perhaps my friend, who I all of sudden didn’t think I knew very well, had been in prison or something. He continued, “However, if you need my help, I cannot refuse you. Please give me all the details and do not leave anything out. Great-great-great Grandfather asked the same of all his clients. You will see that I follow his methods to the letter.” “Before you begin, Miss Watson, may I ask the person who is outside the window listening to our every word to come in and join us?” At this point, I fell off the bench I was sitting on and walked into the office red-faced and feeling guilty. “As my great-great-great Grandfather employed Dr. Watson, your relative, I too shall require a partner. Victoria here is my friend and shall assist me in this matter. Feel free to share the details with both of us.” Miss Watson agreed and though I didn’t have a chance to protest began to tell us about the problem she referred to earlier. “You are no doubt aware that in two days the Scholastic Publishing Company plans to release the fourth installment of the Harry Potter Series, The Goblet of Fire. Unfortunately, there will be no books to release unless they are recovered. They have been stolen, ALL OF THEM, every single copy, missing from warehouses all over the world. There is no time to print another batch in time for the deadline Saturday at midnight. A friend of mine from Scholastic called me this morning, told me about what had happened, and asked that I bring the matter to your attention in hopes that your detective skills could be used to aid the authorities in recovering the missing books.” “Are there any clues to go on from the crime scenes? Sherlock expertly asked. “A note was left by the perpetrator at one of the warehouses over in San Francisco. This is a faxed copy.” The note was handwritten and was penned by someone who had a great deal of confidence. “I have LV reasons for wanting this book never to be read. All lies, I tell you, all lies. All of them, all VII! Let the truth sink like a Rock in the Bay!” Sherlock looked at the copy of the note and without reacting to its message asked Miss Watson another question. “Do the police have any theories?” “They believe that someone has stolen the books and intends to sell them at a higher price on the internet in order to please the readers of all ages that will be lined up to purchase it.” “I fear they are wrong Miss Watson! You will need to take us to San Francisco at once. I advise you to call the police and have them arrange a boat for us!” At this point things were happening so fast I couldn’t breathe. I was caught up in something that frightened me beyond belief. Sherlock said that my fears were justified and that if I wanted to go home I could. For some reason I felt I had to help. After all, someone had stolen every copy of a book that I had been waiting for for over a year. I was determined to do what I could to assist my friend. On the way to the City, Sherlock explained what he had learned from the note. While the police had taken the LV in the note to be the Roman Numeral, 55, Sherlock said that it was the initials of the person behind the theft. The “all VII” referred to the seven books that were to eventually make up the Potter series. The “Rock in the Bay” was Alcatraz and that’s where we were heading! Even though Sherlock had figured out the meaning of the note with cold precision, both Miss Watson and I could sense the fear building up in him. I finally got the courage to ask Sherlock who L.V. was. He looked at me and said, “We and our friend Harry Po...