Monday, 24 June 2013

Scarlett (part 3)

I, my uncle Robin and our new friend Little John, walked across the plank bridge and into the Sherwood estate. The smell wasn't as bad as in the squats but it was hard to bear. The windows of the lodgings were coated in grime and flies buzzed against them.
It was for two dripping wet middle aged blokes, especially one of Little Johns stature, to walk through such a place. We acquired many a dodgy look, which only intensified when we stated to climb up the rickety iron stair case to the attics. The door broke open and we stepped into a triangular room with bits of material hanging from the roof. There wasn't anything in the way of furnishings but I'm sure we could find something. There were little candles plopped around the room so which we lit so we could see things clearer. There was a barrel and a couple of stools so we pulled them over and used the barrel as table.
"Alright." Stated my uncle. "Welcome to the first official meeting of my,"
"We need a name." I interrupted.
"Yes we do."
"I knew a man called Albert Merry." Little John muttered.
"So?" I asked.
"He always wanted to set up a group like this to take down the bank."
"Well it's decided." Robin announced. "Welcome to the first meeting of the Merry men."


Monday, 17 June 2013

Scarlett (part 2)

The tall figure stood at the end of the bridge, his shadow making it hard for us to see if there was anyone behind him. He had a scraggily beard and was about six foot tall, with the broadest shoulders I have ever seen.
My uncle Robin lowered his hood and swirled the staff in his hand, "I think I shall take the not today option."
"That wasn't a choice."
"Do you want me to enforce my option?"
"Oh yes please."
"Will, step back."
I hurried back across the bridge to wear I had been several minutes before. Robin bowed and sliced his staff into the tall mans legs. The man growled and lifted his truncheon above his head allowing Robin to send his fist into the mans stomach. As the tall man lurched backwards, he brought his truncheon down.
Robin jumped backward and threw his cape over the man. He sent several quick shots into the mans chest and sent a kick into the mans thigh.
Just as he planted one more kick into the tall figure, he was pulled over into the oxbow lake. The tall figure followed and attempted to drown Robin!
I pulled my catapult out and sent some stones at the figure. He turned away from my uncle and swam over to me. This was just the opportunity my uncle needed. He jumped out of the water and pulled some twine from the bridge, wrapping it around the mans neck.
He wacked his foot into the back of the mans knee causing him to kneel and shouted, "Who are you?"
"They call me John Little."
"Well Little John,, I'm Robin of the Loxley Estate. Hang on, I can't call myself that now."
"That's a good point." I said.
"I could do with a name."
"How about Robin Hat?"
"Robin Cloak?"
"Robin Hood?"
"Sounds a bit old fashioned but we'll stick with it for now. Well Little John, I'm Robin Hood and I'm looking for somewhere to live."
"Well you won't get a room in the Sherwood Estate, they've all been taken."
"I'm planning to live in the attics."
"They say they're haunted."
"I'm sorry."
"The attics are haunted by the ghosts of the poor who have been trapped in the brickwork for all eternity by the demons and devils of the night."
"I have spent too much time watching the travesty of war to believe in the life of demons and devils. However we shall be using the rumours of ghosts to keep people out."
"Why would we want to be keeping people out?"
"Because of our plans."
"What plans?"
"My plans to break the bank!" 

Monday, 10 June 2013


They say history repeats itself. Most of the time this metaphorical.
Not today.

In the year of our lord 1856, as our great country revelled from the War in Crimea, I sat looking at the side of a great Oxbow lake. The lake had many fish in it and I was sat fishing when I saw the man coming towards me.  He was dressed in a ragged cloth and was mainly supported by an old wooden stick that waited in his hand. He was shivering which was presumably a sign that he had just strolled through the paupers streets. These places were just a horrible excuse to bear witness to the worst parts of our great city. I was lucky to have rich parents who owned a house and didn't have to live in a squat. The man approached me and I felt my fingers tightening around the hilt of my knife. The man knocked back his hood to reveal the face of a young man, aged by war.
He had blue eyes and his skin was tanned with cuts and bruises distracting the eye.
I recognized the face beneath the scars and cried the name, "Uncle Robin!"
The face smiled and replied, "I observe you are still wearing you're trademark crimson clothing, William Scarlett."
I grinned at his use of my nickname, "Of course. I was under the impression you were in Crimea."
"I was. The wars ending and I received damage to my arm. It only healed a few days ago!"
"It's great to see you."
"You too. My estate appears to have been repossessed."
"Yes. The stand in owner of Nottingham bank has been demanding money from everyone. If you don't pay up they steal all your possessions. That's why I'm here; raising money to pay the bank off."
"I new the actual owner shouldn't have had come to war with us."
"Where are you going to live then?"
"On the other side of the bridge that goes over this Oxbow Lake is the Sherwood Estate." The Sherwood estate was a large housing place designed to house the homeless for a very little fee.
"I know about there."
"Yes. I've heard rumours that the attic of the buildings are perfect living space. I'm going to attempt to get in and set up a base there."
"Can I come?"
"Of course Will."
We made our way over the bridge- a glorified collection of planks held together by twine. About half way across it when a hooded figure met us in the middle. Whilst batting a truncheon over his left hand he boomed, "Too boys like you really look like you might have some money. So how are you going to hand it over. The easy way or the hard way?" 

Monday, 3 June 2013

Memory Lane (part 4)

"I think I know what you coming onto." Robin stated.
"Do you?"
"Well I'll get to the end and then you can tell me how it was done. Remember the tips I've given you for the big reveal."
"So, I took Amelia outside and told her my idea. She pulled me into a cab and took us straight to the Pavilion HQ. I ran into the editors office and told him my conclusion. After checking my facts, he sent me and Amelia to the café to explain the case to the police men."
"I gathered all the relevant people and started. Robin if you care to take over."
"Sure. So Lisa Williams was going to ban tabloid reporters from lying, so they were doing all these derogatory things to her such as,"
"Throwing eggs at her car and in this case putting a candle on her table so that it seems she is on a date."
"Correct. Now, the candle wasn't very derogatory and to be truthful, why would they pay the money? So why don't we have a think. Why did they donate candle?"
"I don't know?"
"That was rhetorical."
"No such thing as a rhetorical question when you're doing the big reveal."
"Carry on."
"So the candle was designed so that it would flare and release a cyanide based poison that would kill someone."
"Right. What about the funny food?"
"Rubbish chef."
"The food wasn't a case of the bad chef. The food was a case of the antidote for the poison."
"What was the thing that she put a tax on?"
"And do you know what the best dish of the Lime Sweet Restaurant was?"
"It was meal a with a lot of cheese in."
"Do you know who created the dish?"
"The waiter who put the candle on the table."
"So the waiter found the poison capsule- it was later discovered it wasn't cyanide- and put antidote in everyone else's food. And he turned the power off when the poison activated so no one would work out the crime. That is when you eliminated the impossible, realised that whatever remains- no matter how improbable- has to be the truth."
"But why did he not turn it into the police?"
"Because he only got the job because he invented the dish. He would have been fired because cheese was getting to expensive to buy."
"Exactly. And that was how I became the great investigative journalist known as Gabriel Rathbone!"
"And his more interesting assistant, Robin Greenhouse!"
"This was my back story not yours."

Memory Lane (part 3)

"Amelia McCardle wanted you to help her?" Asked Robin Greenhouse.
"Of course. Can I continue?"
"Yes, if you must."
"Once I had collected my things, I left the prison with Amelia. Our first stop was to go back to the Pavilion Paper HQ so I could thank the editor in chief for paying my bail. I was issued with a camera,"
"I wondered how you got a job as a photographer for the paper." Robin interrupted, commenting on our adventure entitled, The Greek Camera- read it on today!
"Yes but can we get back to the story please."
"Good. Now we travelled back to the café where we discussed a few possibilities she had come up with. Although Sherlock Holmes is very clever character, his phrase 'Once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains- no matter how improbable- must be the truth' isn't always perfectly understood. What Amelia made the mistake of doing in that instance was to come up with theories without facts instead of facts without theories."
"Enough with the detective-y quotes."
"Ok. So although her theories were clever and well thought out there was evidence she never considered. For examples, 'why was all the food tasting funny' or 'what was the flare'.
I had no idea which was when I heard one of the police say something sarcastically. He turned to Amelia and said, 'I see you're burning the candle at both ends!'"