Watson and Toffee- The Incredible Duo- Chapter 3
Chapter 3
As I froze I saw a giant grey cloth coming towards me I tried to back out, but that was not going to happen as I was wedged inside of the door. I do not recommend this because it is most uncomfortable. The grew mass came closer, I feared the worse as anyone in that situation would, and panicked thinking I was going to be captured and taken hostage. I began to kick and yell, naturally this would draw the attention of the people of the surrounding rooms. My attempts to get free, however, were unsuccessful. The mass of grey material was inches from my face, and had a peculiar stench, it wasn’t sweet and was defiantly sour, and collided with my face. This was very odd. This mass did not contain the feeling of a grey sheet covering my head, it was if my head was being stuck into Jell-O (very firm Jell-O at that). The door then opened and scraped across the floor because of my weight. I looked up and saw, to my horror that it was a man that had smashed my head into what I know now his stomach. This wasn’t just any Joe off the street. This was an irregular Joe who weighed at least the poundage of a small elephant. I would place him at around five hundred pounds.
I looked around at the crowd surrounding this catastrophe and saw Toffee one door down to the right looking at me with a combination of bemusement and disownment. She hurried over to me to help me and whispered into my ear with a tone of frustration “What do you think your doing?! What type of a stunt was that?!” Toffee managed to get me unstuck from the door while the gathering crowd gawked at us, well mostly at me, but some at Toffee. “Who would help a nutcase like that, let alone associate with him?” must be running through their minds I thought miserably.
Once I was out of the door I looked up at the behemoth of a man that had opened the door with me in it. I said I was terribly sorry and that I would pay for a new door. He grunted and returned to his room un-frazzled by what had happened. It is as if it could be a daily routine. Man crashes into door, walk to rescue the man, man gets rescued by the woman he is traveling with, man offers to pay for new door, grunt, and return to watching the television.
Toffee quickly ushered me into her room.
“What do you think you were trying to do?!” She said this quietly. Toffee- unlike most people- has an incredibly high tolerance to people doing stupid things like what I did. In the unlikely even or that threshold being crossed, she does not yell, but speaks quietly- this is much like the foreign policy of speak softly but carry a big stick- and in a very dangerous manner. “I told you,” she continued, “that my room was 232 not 233.” I just looked at her slack jawed. I was still in shock from the traumatic even that I was rescued from only moments ago.
“I… I… I…” I stammered uselessly, “I…” Then I remembered in fullness the reason behind me receiving all this pain and anguish. I skyrocketed from the sitting position on the bed, to standing in what must have been a world record. “Toffee!” I said in what was close to a shout, “I remember what I was going to tell you!”
“Oh and what is that?” she said while giving me a look that spoke for its self- you’re off your rocker.
Undiscouraged I said “Last night I had a dream.” I told her about the dream, not pausing until I was done telling my dream. I slowed down at the point where I was looking into the mirror and made sure Toffee took in all that I was telling her. I ended my small speech with recounting the events that had happened in my hasty process of trying to tell Toffee about my dream. Once I had finished Toffee gawked at me and then started laughing. Of the dignity and self-confidence I had left immediately evaporated
“You actually did all of that you said you did in the bathroom?” Toffee managed to say while laughing. I decided not to answer and just shrugged my shoulders. I thought that it was some what amusing, but I would never admit to that. While Toffee was calming down from her laughing fit, I laid down on the bed in the spread eagle position and waited for Toffee’s fit to end. After what seemed like hours to me, but in reality only 47 seconds, Toffee was calm enough to speak once again.
“Okay Mr. Dreamer,” she said in a serious voice, “It’s a lead that we’ve been looking for. Let’s follow it.” At first I didn’t know if I should take her seriously, I thought that she could be mocking me.
“Huh?” I stated blandly
“Yeah! Come on!” Toffee said with a hint of excitement, “We’ve been looking for a lead, and low and behold here is a lead. It may be a dream, but sometimes dreams tell the truth.” Now I really didn’t know what to think. Toffee wanted to follow what I had seen in my head. I was still iffy about it, but Toffee said it with conviction. It really couldn’t hurt, could it? We don’t have any ideas on where else to start, it may have not been rational thinking but it was thinking. If only we could know for sure, but thinking about it wasn’t going to solve anything.
“But what if my mind was playing tricks on me? What if I’m really mentally unstable and should be locked up in a nut-house? What if I’m wrong” I pondered out loud.
“You can’t be so fatalistic! Hypothetical situations can kill you” Toffee rambled, “As for the mentally unstableness, well I have a psychotherapist who I’ve been seeing secretly for years, his name is Bob Hendricks. He’s a nice enough guy, he could maybe even give you a free examination.”
“Toffee, I do not need a psychotherapist!” I declared with conviction, “What I need is… Well I don’t know what I need. I need to solve this case. That’s it! I need to solve this.”
“Well don’t get all huffy,” Toffee continued in a happy-go-lucky voice, “Just get off your lazy buttocks and get this case a crackin’! But before you go you should go take a look at your self in the mirror”
I crossed the distance between my body and the bathroom. While in the process of walking I was absorbed in the pains my body was sending to my brain. My back was no longer shouting threats to my cranium- this would be viewed as a good thing. The only thing that was causing me constant discomfort was my stretched groin muscle that I pulled while accidentally attempting to perform the splits. I got to the bathroom and gazed intently at the mirror, I then recoiled. My hair was in a disheveled heap piled on top of my scalp. Bits of door and paint were sticking out of my normally tidy hair. The worse part was that it was drenched with sweat. Sweat from the monstrous man who’s door I crashed through.
“This is not starting out as a great day” I said aloud to whoever cared enough to listen. Wouldn’t you agree? First I fell twice in the bathroom while trying to remove my body from it. I then went to the wrong door and crashed, while managing to get stuck in the door. My head got sucked into a man’s stomach girth then I had all dignity stripped away from me when Toffee laughed at my day’s events. I must just be an entertainment object for the people who surround me.
I managed to fix my hair, and once I determined that I was in presentable condition for the general public. Toffee and I set off down the hallway, down the elevator, through the lobby, out the front doors, and on the cobblestone street. We were heading in the direction of Mr. Drawlish’s house on Hill Street which was on the outskirts of town. Mr. Drawlish’s attitude towards us has all but favorable. The reason was self explanatory: our failed attempt to capture the thief who was stealing objects that had sentimental value to Mr. Drawlish. But never fear! Watson, Toffee & Co. have never failed to capture a criminal… so far, and this wasn’t going to be the first. Toffee and I walked up to Mr. Drawlish’s door step, gave our customary look to each other, and knocked in unison on the door.
Mr. Drawlish opened the door within a second of our summon. I suspected that he had been camping out by the front door, as if daring us to show our faces. As Mr. Drawlish opened gave us an un-gratifying welcome of “Hi, what do you want?” I caught of a stool in the corner nearest to the door with a bag of chips next to it.
“Mr. Drawlish,” Toffee said in an extremely confident voice, “we have a lead on the case, and we would like to talk to you briefly.” As Toffee said this, a glimmer of hope shined in Mr. Drawlish’s eyes. The plan, as Toffee and I had discussed on our trek across the village, was to inform Mr. Drawlish that we had a tip on who could be behind this crime. We were to ask Mr. Drawlish about his personal history, and his wife. That is, of course, if Mr. Drawlish agrees. My Drawlish agreed and welcomed us into his house.
“So what do you got?” He said once we were all sitting around the kitchen. I whipped out my trust note book that is standard issue of every detective in the world.
“Well Mr. Drawlish, as we said we have had a tip off on what could be the end of this case. We were given a crude idea of who is behind this thievery, and you have valuable information that you have to tell us, so we can uncover the mastermind of this operation.”
“Well sure,” Mr. Drawlish said hopefully, “Anything I can do to help you solve this mystery.” Plan was going according to plan. This was good. It meant that I didn’t have to hire an ex-KGB interrogation officer, I could crack this with out the KGB officer, but it would save time with time. Fortunately we need not to take this course of action.
“Well our informant,” Toffee said while sneaking me a undetectable sly grin, “said that our mastermind behind this operation is a female who prefers not to do her own dirty work. She hires out people to do that for her.” Much like Chinese Take-out I thought to myself. Order what you want, go and deliver the bill, and take what you ordered. Yes, exactly like Chinese take out. Toffee continued, “We need to know about you and your wife’s past, the details of it.”
Over the next hour we heard the history of Drawlish Family. The story went back even in to the equivalent of high school days where Mr. Drawlish was just a farm-boy. He and Mrs. Drawlish had known each other since they were children, they had dated through-out high school and Mr. Drawlish’s apprenticeship at the leather working school. There was however a catch in high school, where was a period of about five months.
In that period of five months of Mr. Drawlish not dating the future be Mrs. Drawlish, he temporarily dated another girl named Elizabeth McNally, who was (as you may have already guessed) Irish. It was time for the British equivalent of the winter dance, which in Brittan it is called the Klondike. Klondike is not similar to a dance at all, instead it is a series of events where teams (in this case couples) race against each other to win the prized title of “Über Couple.” This is also a girl ask guy dance. This type of Dance was highly revolutionary for this time, this was back in the 1920’s were women were just emerging and going against the sociological norms of that time, these “flappers” (as the Yanks called them), were asking for freedoms that had been denied for centuries were finally allowed, such as asking a guy to an event.
As it turns out, the adolescent Mr. Drawlish was asked by two girls. Both of them he liked almost equally. He could be in barney (as in Barney Rubble, or trouble) faster than a speed speaker saying barney. These two girls were none other than, Elizabeth McNally and Beth Chamberlain (Mrs. Drawlish). As you could have guessed, he chose the later. He did end up in barney with Ms. McNally, but he wasn’t bothered by it. As he saw it, he had known Beth since they were young-ins, and this temporary break-up didn’t mean anything. Elizabeth was a fill for that time being. (Yes I know that it is shallow, but it was his choice.) Beth Chamberlain went on to marrying Mr. Drawlish.
After this delightfully boring historical monologue Toffee asked “Have you heard from Elizabeth recently?”
“Not really,” Mr. Drawlish answered, “She called a while ago, asking about my wife. I told her that she had died a few years ago.”
“Ummm…. Interesting...” I murmured. I wasn’t really paying rapt attention to this, I was board out of my mind from the history Mr. Drawlish gave and was still trying to recover from it. I said this out of pretend interest. Toffee was the one paying attention, when it comes to interviewing old people is where Toffee takes over. I cover the younger clients.
“Do you remember the city code from which she called from?” Toffee asked, she then kicked me to get my attention which she did. I sat up right away. Faster than fast. Toffee continued, “We would like to get into contact with her. I would aid in the process of finding the culprit.”
“Sure,” Mr. Drawlish responded, “It was 233, I think that is London, in the Westminster area.”
“Thank you very much Mr. Drawlish.” Toffee said, with an air of content-ness laced in her voice.
“Yes Mr. Drawlish, thank you.” I competed.
Once Toffee and I stepped out side Mr. Drawlish’s house I said, “Well this Elizabeth McNally fits our description… She is a female.” And with that, Toffee and I were of to London. All we had to do was sneak in to the hotel so we weren’t seen by any of the hotel goers on that floor, get our clothes then drive away in our car.
We were off to London! Our investigation may be coming to a closure sometime in the ever near future. Victory would be ours. Little did we know what was going to come to pass…
This was a long and boring chapter, sorry... :( but it was necissary for you (the reader) to understant what was going to happen! the next one is going to be a thriller!
As I froze I saw a giant grey cloth coming towards me I tried to back out, but that was not going to happen as I was wedged inside of the door. I do not recommend this because it is most uncomfortable. The grew mass came closer, I feared the worse as anyone in that situation would, and panicked thinking I was going to be captured and taken hostage. I began to kick and yell, naturally this would draw the attention of the people of the surrounding rooms. My attempts to get free, however, were unsuccessful. The mass of grey material was inches from my face, and had a peculiar stench, it wasn’t sweet and was defiantly sour, and collided with my face. This was very odd. This mass did not contain the feeling of a grey sheet covering my head, it was if my head was being stuck into Jell-O (very firm Jell-O at that). The door then opened and scraped across the floor because of my weight. I looked up and saw, to my horror that it was a man that had smashed my head into what I know now his stomach. This wasn’t just any Joe off the street. This was an irregular Joe who weighed at least the poundage of a small elephant. I would place him at around five hundred pounds.
I looked around at the crowd surrounding this catastrophe and saw Toffee one door down to the right looking at me with a combination of bemusement and disownment. She hurried over to me to help me and whispered into my ear with a tone of frustration “What do you think your doing?! What type of a stunt was that?!” Toffee managed to get me unstuck from the door while the gathering crowd gawked at us, well mostly at me, but some at Toffee. “Who would help a nutcase like that, let alone associate with him?” must be running through their minds I thought miserably.
Once I was out of the door I looked up at the behemoth of a man that had opened the door with me in it. I said I was terribly sorry and that I would pay for a new door. He grunted and returned to his room un-frazzled by what had happened. It is as if it could be a daily routine. Man crashes into door, walk to rescue the man, man gets rescued by the woman he is traveling with, man offers to pay for new door, grunt, and return to watching the television.
Toffee quickly ushered me into her room.
“What do you think you were trying to do?!” She said this quietly. Toffee- unlike most people- has an incredibly high tolerance to people doing stupid things like what I did. In the unlikely even or that threshold being crossed, she does not yell, but speaks quietly- this is much like the foreign policy of speak softly but carry a big stick- and in a very dangerous manner. “I told you,” she continued, “that my room was 232 not 233.” I just looked at her slack jawed. I was still in shock from the traumatic even that I was rescued from only moments ago.
“I… I… I…” I stammered uselessly, “I…” Then I remembered in fullness the reason behind me receiving all this pain and anguish. I skyrocketed from the sitting position on the bed, to standing in what must have been a world record. “Toffee!” I said in what was close to a shout, “I remember what I was going to tell you!”
“Oh and what is that?” she said while giving me a look that spoke for its self- you’re off your rocker.
Undiscouraged I said “Last night I had a dream.” I told her about the dream, not pausing until I was done telling my dream. I slowed down at the point where I was looking into the mirror and made sure Toffee took in all that I was telling her. I ended my small speech with recounting the events that had happened in my hasty process of trying to tell Toffee about my dream. Once I had finished Toffee gawked at me and then started laughing. Of the dignity and self-confidence I had left immediately evaporated
“You actually did all of that you said you did in the bathroom?” Toffee managed to say while laughing. I decided not to answer and just shrugged my shoulders. I thought that it was some what amusing, but I would never admit to that. While Toffee was calming down from her laughing fit, I laid down on the bed in the spread eagle position and waited for Toffee’s fit to end. After what seemed like hours to me, but in reality only 47 seconds, Toffee was calm enough to speak once again.
“Okay Mr. Dreamer,” she said in a serious voice, “It’s a lead that we’ve been looking for. Let’s follow it.” At first I didn’t know if I should take her seriously, I thought that she could be mocking me.
“Huh?” I stated blandly
“Yeah! Come on!” Toffee said with a hint of excitement, “We’ve been looking for a lead, and low and behold here is a lead. It may be a dream, but sometimes dreams tell the truth.” Now I really didn’t know what to think. Toffee wanted to follow what I had seen in my head. I was still iffy about it, but Toffee said it with conviction. It really couldn’t hurt, could it? We don’t have any ideas on where else to start, it may have not been rational thinking but it was thinking. If only we could know for sure, but thinking about it wasn’t going to solve anything.
“But what if my mind was playing tricks on me? What if I’m really mentally unstable and should be locked up in a nut-house? What if I’m wrong” I pondered out loud.
“You can’t be so fatalistic! Hypothetical situations can kill you” Toffee rambled, “As for the mentally unstableness, well I have a psychotherapist who I’ve been seeing secretly for years, his name is Bob Hendricks. He’s a nice enough guy, he could maybe even give you a free examination.”
“Toffee, I do not need a psychotherapist!” I declared with conviction, “What I need is… Well I don’t know what I need. I need to solve this case. That’s it! I need to solve this.”
“Well don’t get all huffy,” Toffee continued in a happy-go-lucky voice, “Just get off your lazy buttocks and get this case a crackin’! But before you go you should go take a look at your self in the mirror”
I crossed the distance between my body and the bathroom. While in the process of walking I was absorbed in the pains my body was sending to my brain. My back was no longer shouting threats to my cranium- this would be viewed as a good thing. The only thing that was causing me constant discomfort was my stretched groin muscle that I pulled while accidentally attempting to perform the splits. I got to the bathroom and gazed intently at the mirror, I then recoiled. My hair was in a disheveled heap piled on top of my scalp. Bits of door and paint were sticking out of my normally tidy hair. The worse part was that it was drenched with sweat. Sweat from the monstrous man who’s door I crashed through.
“This is not starting out as a great day” I said aloud to whoever cared enough to listen. Wouldn’t you agree? First I fell twice in the bathroom while trying to remove my body from it. I then went to the wrong door and crashed, while managing to get stuck in the door. My head got sucked into a man’s stomach girth then I had all dignity stripped away from me when Toffee laughed at my day’s events. I must just be an entertainment object for the people who surround me.
I managed to fix my hair, and once I determined that I was in presentable condition for the general public. Toffee and I set off down the hallway, down the elevator, through the lobby, out the front doors, and on the cobblestone street. We were heading in the direction of Mr. Drawlish’s house on Hill Street which was on the outskirts of town. Mr. Drawlish’s attitude towards us has all but favorable. The reason was self explanatory: our failed attempt to capture the thief who was stealing objects that had sentimental value to Mr. Drawlish. But never fear! Watson, Toffee & Co. have never failed to capture a criminal… so far, and this wasn’t going to be the first. Toffee and I walked up to Mr. Drawlish’s door step, gave our customary look to each other, and knocked in unison on the door.
Mr. Drawlish opened the door within a second of our summon. I suspected that he had been camping out by the front door, as if daring us to show our faces. As Mr. Drawlish opened gave us an un-gratifying welcome of “Hi, what do you want?” I caught of a stool in the corner nearest to the door with a bag of chips next to it.
“Mr. Drawlish,” Toffee said in an extremely confident voice, “we have a lead on the case, and we would like to talk to you briefly.” As Toffee said this, a glimmer of hope shined in Mr. Drawlish’s eyes. The plan, as Toffee and I had discussed on our trek across the village, was to inform Mr. Drawlish that we had a tip on who could be behind this crime. We were to ask Mr. Drawlish about his personal history, and his wife. That is, of course, if Mr. Drawlish agrees. My Drawlish agreed and welcomed us into his house.
“So what do you got?” He said once we were all sitting around the kitchen. I whipped out my trust note book that is standard issue of every detective in the world.
“Well Mr. Drawlish, as we said we have had a tip off on what could be the end of this case. We were given a crude idea of who is behind this thievery, and you have valuable information that you have to tell us, so we can uncover the mastermind of this operation.”
“Well sure,” Mr. Drawlish said hopefully, “Anything I can do to help you solve this mystery.” Plan was going according to plan. This was good. It meant that I didn’t have to hire an ex-KGB interrogation officer, I could crack this with out the KGB officer, but it would save time with time. Fortunately we need not to take this course of action.
“Well our informant,” Toffee said while sneaking me a undetectable sly grin, “said that our mastermind behind this operation is a female who prefers not to do her own dirty work. She hires out people to do that for her.” Much like Chinese Take-out I thought to myself. Order what you want, go and deliver the bill, and take what you ordered. Yes, exactly like Chinese take out. Toffee continued, “We need to know about you and your wife’s past, the details of it.”
Over the next hour we heard the history of Drawlish Family. The story went back even in to the equivalent of high school days where Mr. Drawlish was just a farm-boy. He and Mrs. Drawlish had known each other since they were children, they had dated through-out high school and Mr. Drawlish’s apprenticeship at the leather working school. There was however a catch in high school, where was a period of about five months.
In that period of five months of Mr. Drawlish not dating the future be Mrs. Drawlish, he temporarily dated another girl named Elizabeth McNally, who was (as you may have already guessed) Irish. It was time for the British equivalent of the winter dance, which in Brittan it is called the Klondike. Klondike is not similar to a dance at all, instead it is a series of events where teams (in this case couples) race against each other to win the prized title of “Über Couple.” This is also a girl ask guy dance. This type of Dance was highly revolutionary for this time, this was back in the 1920’s were women were just emerging and going against the sociological norms of that time, these “flappers” (as the Yanks called them), were asking for freedoms that had been denied for centuries were finally allowed, such as asking a guy to an event.
As it turns out, the adolescent Mr. Drawlish was asked by two girls. Both of them he liked almost equally. He could be in barney (as in Barney Rubble, or trouble) faster than a speed speaker saying barney. These two girls were none other than, Elizabeth McNally and Beth Chamberlain (Mrs. Drawlish). As you could have guessed, he chose the later. He did end up in barney with Ms. McNally, but he wasn’t bothered by it. As he saw it, he had known Beth since they were young-ins, and this temporary break-up didn’t mean anything. Elizabeth was a fill for that time being. (Yes I know that it is shallow, but it was his choice.) Beth Chamberlain went on to marrying Mr. Drawlish.
After this delightfully boring historical monologue Toffee asked “Have you heard from Elizabeth recently?”
“Not really,” Mr. Drawlish answered, “She called a while ago, asking about my wife. I told her that she had died a few years ago.”
“Ummm…. Interesting...” I murmured. I wasn’t really paying rapt attention to this, I was board out of my mind from the history Mr. Drawlish gave and was still trying to recover from it. I said this out of pretend interest. Toffee was the one paying attention, when it comes to interviewing old people is where Toffee takes over. I cover the younger clients.
“Do you remember the city code from which she called from?” Toffee asked, she then kicked me to get my attention which she did. I sat up right away. Faster than fast. Toffee continued, “We would like to get into contact with her. I would aid in the process of finding the culprit.”
“Sure,” Mr. Drawlish responded, “It was 233, I think that is London, in the Westminster area.”
“Thank you very much Mr. Drawlish.” Toffee said, with an air of content-ness laced in her voice.
“Yes Mr. Drawlish, thank you.” I competed.
Once Toffee and I stepped out side Mr. Drawlish’s house I said, “Well this Elizabeth McNally fits our description… She is a female.” And with that, Toffee and I were of to London. All we had to do was sneak in to the hotel so we weren’t seen by any of the hotel goers on that floor, get our clothes then drive away in our car.
We were off to London! Our investigation may be coming to a closure sometime in the ever near future. Victory would be ours. Little did we know what was going to come to pass…
This was a long and boring chapter, sorry... :( but it was necissary for you (the reader) to understant what was going to happen! the next one is going to be a thriller!