Operation Sherlock Read Free

deductive mind, son, but you’re still too quick to jump to conclusions. Or sometimes you come to the right conclusion for the wrong reasons—which can be just as confusing in the long run. The point wasn’t to keep you from figuring it out. It was to keep anyone else from knowing before we got here. Besides, the place isn’t totally deserted. It used to be an Air Force base, and some of the staff has been kept on for this project.”
    Rachel began to giggle.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” asked Dr. Phillips.
    â€œYou!” said his daughter. “One of the reasons Roger jumps to conclusions is he knows you can’t resist correcting him. It’s a great way to find things out.”
    Dr. Phillips blushed.
    â€œThere goes my secret method!” complained Roger.
    â€œOh, don’t worry,” said Rachel. “Dad can’t help himself.”
    Anthony Phillips looked at his children and wondered, not for the first time, how he would survive the six years left until they were eighteen, and old enough to leave home. “All right, you two,” he said at last. “Let’s get moving.”
    Reaching above their heads, he hauled down the bags the two of them had brought to carry their most necessary or most beloved items. Then he grabbed his own satchel and headed for the door. The twins followed at his heels.
    â€œOuch!” said a voice as Roger accidentally banged one of his cases against a seat. The voice came from inside the case.
    Rachel rolled her eyes.
    â€œHey!” yelled the voice. “Who turned out the lights? Somebody, turn on the lights!”
    â€œRoger,” sighed Dr. Phillips, “will you please turn him off?”
    Roger slapped the side of the case. “Shut up!” he said fiercely.
    â€œRats!” muttered the voice. “I hate it when you make me go to sleep!”

    Â 
    â€œLet’s Blow This Popsicle Stand”
    Wendy Wendell was snoring in her new bed when the pale morning light began to filter through her window. After a few moments the sunrays struck the face of a large doll that sat on the shelf opposite her bed.
    Immediately the doll—dressed in diapers and a bonnet, and known to her owner as “Baby Pee Pants”—opened her glass eyes. She crossed and uncrossed them, waited thirty seconds, then reached out to poke the doll next to her. “Hey, Blondie,” she growled, in a voice that would have been better suited to a truck driver, “time to wake up!”
    The second doll—a twelve-inch-tall beauty with blue eyes, waist-length blond hair, and a hot-pink bikini plastered onto a figure that would have been grotesque in real life—yawned and stretched. “Time to move it, Mr. Pumpkiss,” she said wispily, nudging the teddy bear that sat on her right.
    The bear’s nose twitched. “Buzz off, Blondie,” it snapped.
    Despite its words, the bear pushed itself to a standing position.
    â€œReady?” asked Baby Pee Pants.
    The other two toys nodded. Moving in unison, all three took a step forward.
    Immediately they fell off the shelf and crashed to the floor.
    Still in perfect synchronization, the toys said a word their owner’s parents would have preferred she not even know, then climbed to their feet and began marching across the room. “Captain Wendy,” they chanted. “Calling Captain Wendy! Time to wake up, Captain Wendy!”
    When they had made their way across the floor—which was like a doll-sized obstacle course, given the mess that covered it—they ran into the side of Wendy’s bed and fell down again. After repeating their curse word, they began trying to climb the sheets, crying, “Let us up! Let us up, Captain Wendy!”
    Wendy Wendell opened her right eye and glared at the toys. “Lemme sleep,” she growled.
    â€œLet us up! Let us up!”
    â€œChips!” exclaimed Wendy, pushing herself to her elbows.