The Future Door by Jason Lethcoe Page A

Watson would be feeling. The good doctor had lost his best friend and colleague. What must it be like to lose such a close friend and to know that there were no more wonderful adventures to write about? And worse still, to know that with Holmes out of the way, Moriarty could rule London unopposed?
    Griffin certainly didn’t think that he and Rupert were as threatening to the Moriartys’ criminal empire as Sherlock Holmes had been. But the very fact that the professor and Nigel had tried to get rid of them in Boston told him that they weren’t insignificant. And now that Holmes was gone, Griffin and his uncle were the only ones who stood in the way of the evil men and their nefarious schemes.
    Griffin gripped his ebony walking stick, staring down at Nigel Moriarty’s familiar initials engraved on the cane’s top. Then he looked out at the sea of Londoners gathered together, most with heads bowed and hats clutched to their chests. Many of the ladies were wiping their eyes, and there were children in attendance too.
    He felt a surge of empathy as he spotted one child, a little girl of about five or six, clutching her mother’s skirts. He could imagine what she must be feeling, seeing her parents in such distress. She happened to glance at Griffin at the same time he was looking at her.
    Who will protect you now? he wondered.
    But even as the thought popped into his head, he already knew the answer. It was his job now.

18
THE OLD CLOCK
    S tonehenge? You can’t be serious!” Rupert said.
    Griffin placed a pair of clean socks in his small pack. “It’s the only place that makes sense,” he replied. He had hoped to get confirmation from Sherlock Holmes on this point and to find out if he knew anything about how well guarded Moriarty’s secret hideout would be. But with the great detective gone, it had fallen upon him to arrive at his own deductions.
    â€œAnd how exactly did you determine that there’s a secret lair hidden beneath Stonehenge?” Rupert asked. “I don’t see any evidence that points to such an outlandish conclusion.”
    Griffin took Miss Pepper’s note from his pocket and handed it to his uncle.
    â€œMiss Pepper changes her writing style in the middle of her letter. If you read the first part of the note, it sounds like she’s giving us some insight into her thinking. She’s obviously very proud of her accomplishment and wants to tell us so. Take a look,” Griffin said.
    Rupert scanned the note, reading the parts where Charlotte informed them of how she deduced the location of the time machine and how easily she managed to break into their apartment. He glanced up at Griffin, scowling.
    â€œAn arrogant woman. Obviously lacking in social graces.”
    Griffin tried not to laugh. To hear his uncle criticizing someone else for being arrogant and rude was pretty funny.
    â€œShe does seem confident,” he agreed. “But if you look closely, you’ll see that there is a line or two that stands out as something other than just bragging. See here,” Griffin said, indicating the end of the note. “It’s like she decided to be poetic all of a sudden.” He read the lines aloud to his uncle: “ ‘A new history begins tonight . . . the hands of the ancient clock will be turned and the very stones themselves will be rearranged.’ ”
    â€œIt’s like I said. The woman possesses an overinflated ego,” said Rupert.
    â€œOh, but I don’t think so,” Griffin said excitedly. “Why would she say ‘the hands of the ancient clock’? What could she possibly be referring to?”
    Rupert shoved his hands into his worn trouser pockets. “I don’t know,” he said grumpily. “Perhaps she’s talking about time itself. After all, she does possess the time machine.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought at first,” Griffin admitted. “But then I wondered, why