Sherlock Gnomes Movie Novelization Page 5

  Gnomeo was so mad, he lost track of the fact that he was whizzing at high speed on top of a bus. Suddenly, the bus turned a corner and his suction cups peeled off. He slid across the slippery metal roof, desperately trying to grab on to something. But there was nothing to grab.

  Gnomeo skittered to the edge of the bus. Just as he flew off, a hand reached out and grabbed him.

  Only instead of it being Juliet who saved him, it was Watson. “Hang on!” he cried. He leaned back against the wind, and barely managed to wrestle Gnomeo back onto the bus. “You okay?” he asked.

  Gnomeo shrugged, pretending that he hadn’t been terrified at all. “Cheers, mate,” he said. He looked over to see if Juliet had been worried about him.

  Juliet was huddled with Sherlock at the front of the bus. Her back was turned to Gnomeo. She hadn’t even known that he had nearly gotten smashed to bits.

  “Are you sure you can find them?” Juliet asked Sherlock.

  “Rest assured, I will crack this clue. I will find your friends and family. I’ve never failed to solve a case, and I don’t plan on starting now,” Sherlock said.

  • • •

  An hour later, the double-decker bus turned onto a wide avenue lined with London plane trees and a long wrought iron gate. As it rumbled down a street, four gnomes, two at the front of the bus, and two at the back, peered out from the roof.

  “We’ll have to jump onto that tree,” Sherlock told Juliet. He pointed to a large plane tree halfway down the block.

  Juliet turned to Gnomeo and Watson. “Get ready to jump.”

  Gnomeo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say.” He had just about had it with taking orders.

  As they passed the tree, Sherlock quickly shouted, “Jump!”

  The gnomes leaped onto a low-hanging branch. As the bus drove off, they made their way to the trunk and quickly hid among the leaves.

  Unlike the Chinatown alleyways where no one was around, the street below them buzzed with activity. Humans walked about, talking and texting, or listening silently to the music streaming into their headphones. A stream of cars drove by, honking politely at one another. It was not a safe place for a gnome to be out in the open.

  Watson pointed across the street. Gnomeo and Juliet looked to see an elegant terra-cotta building with twin towers and a cathedral entrance in front of them. They had arrived at the Natural History Museum.

  “The site of our last showdown with Moriarty,” Watson whispered. “Of course! That’s where the clue is leading us.”

  “Moriarty would never choose such an obvious location,” Sherlock scoffed.

  Watson shrank down against his cane, looking hurt.

  Gnomeo glared at Sherlock. “All right, smart guy,” he growled. “What’s your plan?”

  “If you must know, we are going to the DeJong exhibit at the art gallery. I haven’t cracked the latest clue yet, and the art helps me ruminate.” Sherlock pointed far down the street to the gallery. It was three blocks away.

  Gnomeo couldn’t believe it. “That’s your plan?” he cried. “Art and thinking? Your museum’s right there! Let’s just go check it out.”

  Sherlock didn’t respond.

  “Mate, think about it,” continued Gnomeo. “You beat this guy at the museum, right? And now he wants revenge. Don’t you get it? He’s waiting for you at the museum. He wants a rematch!”

  Sherlock wasn’t paying the slightest attention to Gnomeo. His eyes glazed over as he went deep into his mind palace.

  “Plus, we can get in right there.” Gnomeo pointed to an entrance. He looked at Sherlock. “Are you . . . are you . . . is he even listening to me?” He turned to the others and waved a hand in front of Sherlock’s face. The detective did not respond. “He’s not listening, look!” Gnomeo cried. He dropped his hand, defeated.

  Sherlock sighed with relief. “Oh good. You stopped talking. Now we can go to the gallery.”

  Gnomeo was fed up. “You know what, good luck with that. We’re going to the museum.” He reached for Juliet, but she didn’t take his hand.

  “Let’s just go to the gallery,” she told Gnomeo.

  “Are you serious? You’re seriously choosing him over me?” Gnomeo cried.

  Juliet folded her arms. “I’m not choosing anyone. Sherlock knows this Moriarty guy and you don’t.”

  “We’re supposed to be partners. Gnomeo and Juliet, remember?” said Gnomeo.

  “We are partners,” insisted Juliet.

  “Well, it doesn’t feel like it. It hasn’t felt like it since we moved here,” said Gnomeo.

  Juliet didn’t know how to answer. Gnomeo was her true love, but she needed to save her friends and family. She needed to put the garden first. And Sherlock seemed like the only gnome who could help her.

  Gnomeo reached for Juliet’s hand again. “Are you with me or not?”

  Juliet shook her head and pulled away. “Don’t do this.”

  There was a long silence.

  “And there it is,” said Gnomeo heavily. He dropped his hand and shimmied down the tree by himself. Ducking through the grass, he ran toward the museum.

  “Good,” said Sherlock. “Now we can go to the gallery.”

  “Should we go after him?” asked Watson.

  “No, we shouldn’t. But you may waste your time if you want.” Sherlock climbed down to the ground. With brisk, decisive steps, he headed toward the modern art gallery.

  “Sherlock Gnomes.” Watson sighed. He turned to Juliet. “Don’t worry. I’ll get Gnomeo back.”

  Chapter 15

  It was warm and silent in the Natural History Museum. Slipping through an open window, Watson crept past the guards and made his way into Hintze Hall. Dippy the dinosaur was no longer there. A gigantic blue whale skeleton suspended from the ceiling had taken his place. The whale glowed under an eerie blue light in the empty hall. “Gnomeo? Gnomeo?” called Watson. He groaned. “Oh, don’t make me say it. Wherefore art thou, Gnomeo?”

  “You all right, mate?” a voice asked. It was directly behind Watson.

  Watson yelped and whirled around. “Cheese and crackers!”

  “Sorry for scaring you.” Gnomeo peered hopefully behind Watson, trying to see if Juliet was there too.

  She wasn’t.

  “It’s just you, then?” Gnomeo said, disappointed.

  Watson nodded. “We were hoping you’d join us at the gallery.”

  Gnomeo folded his arms angrily. “Not gonna happen, mate. I’m sure we were right about the museum, and I’m going to prove it.” He took off running.

  Watson sighed. He looked at the skeleton of a velociraptor displayed along the side of the hall. It seemed to be smirking at him. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he told the dinosaur. “I’m trying my best.” He went after Gnomeo.

  Gnomeo tore past glass cases filled with fossils, sea creature displays, a butterfly garden, and countless wildlife exhibits, looking for any clue that would prove that he had been right. He wanted to show Juliet that she had been wrong to abandon him. To doubt him. To think that Sherlock was better than her own partner.

  “Look, I know you’re angry,” said Watson as he struggled to keep up with Gnomeo.

  “How would you feel?” cried Gnomeo. He raced angrily through another hallway. “It’s like she doesn’t even care about me.”

  “A partner who takes you for granted?” Watson grinned wryly. “I can’t think of what that’s like.”

  Gnomeo stopped. He turned to Watson and shook his head. “I don’t know how you put up with that gnome.”

  “And if we had six months, I’d list all his faults, but despite them he is a brilliant detective . . .”

  Gnomeo held up his hand. Watson’s voice trailed off as they heard the sound of flapping wings approaching them. Whatever was flying down the hallway was very, very big.

  “What is that?” cried Gnomeo as the sound drew closer and the shadow grew larger.

  A stone gargoyle landed in front of them. Her razor-sharp
claws dug into the floor, leaving rake marks on the tile. Her pointed ears were drawn back as she opened her mouth, revealing a ghastly row of teeth.

  “Boo,” said the gargoyle. “If I were you I’d run.”

  Gnomeo and Watson didn’t need to be asked twice. They bolted down the hallway with the gargoyle in hot pursuit. As they sprinted, Watson spotted an open skylight window. “Up there!” he cried.

  Just as he spoke, he tripped and went skidding across the floor. His cane flew out of his hands. The gargoyle loomed over the fallen gnome. She chuckled as she reached out for Watson with her claws.

  Suddenly, Watson’s cane went sailing through the air. It smashed right into the gargoyle’s nose. “Oi! Ugly, over here!” Gnomeo shouted. He had hurled the cane at the beast, and had hit his mark.

  The gargoyle growled and took off after Gnomeo.

  “Go!” Gnomeo yelled to Watson. He reached some scaffolding and began to climb.

  “Not so fast,” the gargoyle said. She grabbed ahold of Gnomeo. “Got ya!”

  Gnomeo looked up at the leering face. He gulped. “Do you know that up close you’re actually quite handsome—whoa!” he yelled as the gargoyle picked him up and flew off.

  • • •

  Meanwhile Sherlock and Juliet were hopping from tree to tree, keeping in the shadows on the way to the modern art gallery.

  As they neared their destination, for the tenth time, Juliet stole a glance back at the Natural History Museum.

  “Why do you keep looking back?” asked Sherlock. “He just severed your partnership!”

  “We didn’t break up,” whispered Juliet. “It was just a fight.”

  “Hmmmmm,” said Sherlock. He started to climb down a tree.

  “Hey, what do you mean—” Juliet began, but Sherlock had already slid out of sight and earshot. She slid down the tree and found Sherlock pressed against the base of the trunk. “What exactly does ‘hmmmmm’ mean?” she asked.

  Sherlock peeked around the corner of the tree, and then jerked back. A group of tourists was walking down the sidewalk. The coast was definitely not clear. “It means you were young and in love but your new garden duties were too much for a young couple to handle. Likelihood of a breakup: ninety-nine percent.” Sherlock noticed Juliet’s glare. “I rounded down.”

  As Juliet looked again toward the museum, an enormous shadow cut across the night sky. “Did you see that?” she gasped.

  Shrouded in fog, the shadow flew directly into the museum.

  Juliet began to run back toward the museum, but Sherlock grabbed her and pulled her back. Holding his finger up to his lips, he motioned toward the other side of the tree. Juliet saw a maintenance man heading toward them.

  Sherlock motioned for Juliet to follow him, and they ducked for cover under the bushes. Being careful not be to seen, they ran from bush to bush, heading back toward the Natural History Museum.

  They finally arrived, just in time to see Watson perched precariously on the edge of a skylight window. As he wobbled, trying to keep his balance, a gargoyle stepped out of the window. She had a familiar figure in her talons.

  “Gnomeo!” Juliet covered her mouth in horror as the beast unfurled its wings and flew off, carrying her partner away. As it did, it knocked Watson off the window.

  Juliet and Sherlock watched helplessly as Watson tumbled through the air and out of sight. A few seconds later, they heard the horrible sound of something smashing into the ground.

  Sherlock bowed his head. “Watson,” he pronounced solemnly.

  “No!” cried Juliet.

  “Come along, Miss Juliet. We must keep going,” said Sherlock.

  Chapter 16

  Juliet trailed after Sherlock as he headed down the block. When they reached the DeJong exhibit at the art gallery, Sherlock pulled open a grate and they made their way inside.

  “The museum was clearly a trap,” said Sherlock. “And the gargoyle explains the absence of footprints. Remind me to retrieve Watson’s map of gnomes as soon as I’ve resolved this case.”

  “The map!” Juliet snapped. “That’s what you care about? The map?”

  “It’s one-of-a-kind,” said Sherlock. “And in the wrong hands—”

  “Watson just got smashed!” cried Juliet. “Aren’t you at all sad or angry about your friend?”

  “Sadness and anger won’t help me save your friends and family. Nor will it bring Watson back to life.” Sherlock looked at Juliet hard. “I’ve already failed one gnome tonight. I will not fail another.”

  “Fine,” retorted Juliet. “What do we do now?”

  “I will crack this clue. And you will stand over there and be very quiet,” said Sherlock.

  “Let me help you!” pleaded Juliet.

  “It would take far too long to explain all the variables,” Sherlock said, irritated.

  Juliet tried one last time. “But just give me something—”

  “My deduction can’t wait!” shouted Sherlock. He gave Juliet a cold gaze. “You can.”

  Juliet felt like she had been stabbed in the heart. She had heard those words before. She had said them to Gnomeo. And now, she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to take them back.

  “I’ll let you know when I’ve cracked the clue,” continued Sherlock briskly. He walked over to a Styrofoam sculpture and froze in meditation.

  Juliet waved her hand in front of the detective’s face.

  Sherlock was gone.

  Juliet slumped on the cold hard floor of the museum. Before long, she was asleep.

  • • •

  As early morning light flooded through the museum, Juliet woke to Sherlock shaking her shoulder. “I have it!” he announced.

  Juliet rubbed her eyes and got to her feet. As they headed toward the museum exit, Sherlock explained his theory. “The circle on the plane is a symbol used by the Royal Air Force,” he said. “So, the clue involves something royal. The plane also bore the letters N-V. Two letters, but also a word. “Envy.” As in green with envy. And thus we have two pieces of the puzzle: royal and green.”

  The sound of the museum’s cleaning crew echoed through the hallway. Sherlock and Juliet ducked into a side room, narrowly avoiding discovery.

  “But I remained vexed,” continued Sherlock. “Why a plane? And then it struck me. The planatus tree, also known as the plane tree, is the most common tree . . . in Royal Green Park!”

  The sound of the cleaners faded away, and Sherlock and Juliet made their way to the exit. “Come along, Miss Juliet,” said Sherlock. “It’s already nine a.m., and we have less than twelve hours to save those gnomes.”

  “How are we supposed to get around a public park in broad daylight?” asked Juliet.

  “Ah, fear not,” said Sherlock. “For I am not just a master of deduction—I am also a master of disguise.”

  • • •

  At Royal Green Park, a maintenance worker drove a riding mower across the grass. He passed by a few joggers, the occasional dog walker, and a staggering squirrel.

  The squirrel ran left. Then right. Then right. Then right again. Inside, Sherlock was in the front of the squirrel costume, and Juliet was holding up the rear.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” hissed Sherlock. “Two forward. Hold. Three forward. Hold. I said hold!” he groaned as Juliet bumped into him for the twentieth time. He sighed. “Tell me, does our squirrel have some sort of rabies-induced illness, or did he have too much to drink?”

  “Oh, forgive me,” said Juliet sarcastically. “I’ve never been the back end of a squirrel before!”

  “You should have told me that before I took you on as my assistant,” huffed Sherlock.

  Juliet stopped. “I’m not your—”

  “Shh! We’ve been spotted,” warned Sherlock.

  Other squirrels in the park looked in their direction.

  “Wiggle your rear end,” Sherlock instructed.

  “What?” Juliet stammered.

  “Quickly!” Sherlock whispered urgently. Go on! Wiggle
!”

  “Fine.” Juliet made a face and shook her bottom.

  Sherlock looked around to see how she was doing. “A real squirrel would greet the other squirrels by wagging its tail. Now please just shake your bottom harder.”

  Juliet shuddered. “Ugh, and feminism takes a step backward.” She wiggled harder.

  “That is the least realistic tail wagging I’ve ever seen,” Sherlock said. But Juliet’s squirrel imitation had worked. The other squirrels went back to chasing each other up trees and hunting for nuts.

  Sherlock and Juliet stopped in the middle of the park. As birds sang and tweeted around them, they scanned the area for clues. All they saw were endless rows of trees.

  Juliet groaned. “There are hundreds of plane trees. The clue could be anywhere.”

  “Shhh!” Sherlock put a finger to his lips. “I’m trying to listen. Do you hear that?” He concentrated. “The chirping sound. That’s no birdcall. It’s Morse code for the letter M.” He listened more closely. “Good grief, don’t move,” he hissed.

  Juliet peeked out from under the costume and saw a dog snoring nearby. “It’s just a dog,” she said, exasperated.

  “Just a dog?” Sherlock was inflamed. “I know the identity of seven hundred and eighty-four dogs in this city. And in this very park, that very dog bit me. I’ll never forget it.”

  “I’m siding with the dog here,” Juliet said.

  “First Chinatown, now Toby, both unpleasant past encounters,” Sherlock mused. “This is no coincidence. Toby must have our next clue.”

  The two gnomes carefully walked toward the sleeping dog. Sherlock spied a toy bone under its paws. He motioned for Juliet to grab it.

  Juliet reached out from under the squirrel costume. Working gently, she managed to pry the bone from Toby’s paws.

  “Now, quietly, look for a clue,” Sherlock said.

  Juliet saw something hidden inside the bone. She reached in and dug it out.

  “But whatever you do, don’t—” Sherlock began.

  The toy bone squeaked.

  “Oh dear,” Sherlock said.

  Toby woke up and started to growl. He began to stalk Sherlock and Juliet.