The Case of the Missing Mascot (A Sherlock Shakespeare Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Sydney Katt
a search party." A smile that he couldn't quite suppress played across his lips. "You wanna come help us solve a mystery?"
I was about to roll my eyes at him, but thought better of it after the first time. "As much as I love fumbling through a good mystery, I'm sure y'all can figure it out without me."
"I thought that's what you'd say." He started to walk through the door, but grabbed the frame and poked his head back inside. "Call me if you need to. I know this is bothering you more than you're letting on."
I tried to focus on the laws of supply and demand after Drew left. It didn't work. Now that he'd mentioned it, I did sort of regret sleeping with Tom. At the time, we were alone in the house and he was making really intense eye contact with me in my bedroom. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. I guess I figured it was better to lose my virginity to the guy I'd been dating for a few years than to have to start over with some stranger after we drifted apart.
I just hadn't counted on the drift starting basically as soon as I slept with him.
Asshole.
Before I could change my mind, I pulled out my phone and assigned the most obnoxious ringtone I could find to Tom's number. On the off chance that he did try to call me, I didn't even want to have to look at his name on my phone before I sent him to voicemail. If I saw his name, or the really cute picture of him that came up under his name, I would probably take the call. I may have always been the one to apologize for fights that weren't my fault in the past, but I wasn't doing it this time.
The satisfaction from that petty task helped me get through about five paragraphs before my mind started wandering to the hot blonde on Tom's bed again. Had the two of them already hooked up? Or was he just laying the groundwork with her for after my visit? Better question... why hadn't he just broken up with me before he went off to college? Was he trying to keep his sure thing on the line in case he struck out with college girls?
This was Drew's fault. I was fine, sort of, before he made that comment about me regretting what I'd done with Tom. If he'd kept his mouth shut, it wouldn't've occurred to me to regret that until I was in the middle of my next econ test.
And what was that little crack about helping solve a mystery? Of all the people in my life, Drew should know I hated when people assumed I solved mysteries because of my name. In fact, the only thing I hated worse was the way kids in school used to say 'here comes Sherlock Holmes' whenever they saw the two of us together. Too bad I was nothing like the real Sherlock Holmes. He'd probably be too engrossed in one mystery or another for the embarrassing breakup to even register in his brain.
Why couldn't I be more like the fictional detective, minus the cocaine habit?
Wait. Why couldn't I?
Sure, I had no skills or training when it came to solving mysteries, but I'd read more than my fair share of them over the years. Books made it look easy to catch serial killers. Finding a stupid teacup pig in a small town couldn't be that hard.
I even knew where to start. I jumped out of bed and crossed the hall to Watson's room. While everyone else was assuming Champers was wandering around in a field frolicking with butterflies, I'd be on the trail of the people who stole our mascot.
If nothing else, this would be a great distraction for a few hours.
Just as I expected, Watson had left his tablet sitting on his bed. I picked it up and briefly wished I were as good at accepting who I was as my fourteen-year-old brother was. Instead of hiding from the fact that his legal name was William Watson Shakespeare, he actually used a cover for his tablet that looked like a leather-bound Shakespeare book. At least he got a cool middle name out of the deal. Wats was nine hundred gazillion times better than my middle name.
No power on earth would make me even acknowledge that name in my head. In fact, I'd become a master of covering
I was about to roll my eyes at him, but thought better of it after the first time. "As much as I love fumbling through a good mystery, I'm sure y'all can figure it out without me."
"I thought that's what you'd say." He started to walk through the door, but grabbed the frame and poked his head back inside. "Call me if you need to. I know this is bothering you more than you're letting on."
I tried to focus on the laws of supply and demand after Drew left. It didn't work. Now that he'd mentioned it, I did sort of regret sleeping with Tom. At the time, we were alone in the house and he was making really intense eye contact with me in my bedroom. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. I guess I figured it was better to lose my virginity to the guy I'd been dating for a few years than to have to start over with some stranger after we drifted apart.
I just hadn't counted on the drift starting basically as soon as I slept with him.
Asshole.
Before I could change my mind, I pulled out my phone and assigned the most obnoxious ringtone I could find to Tom's number. On the off chance that he did try to call me, I didn't even want to have to look at his name on my phone before I sent him to voicemail. If I saw his name, or the really cute picture of him that came up under his name, I would probably take the call. I may have always been the one to apologize for fights that weren't my fault in the past, but I wasn't doing it this time.
The satisfaction from that petty task helped me get through about five paragraphs before my mind started wandering to the hot blonde on Tom's bed again. Had the two of them already hooked up? Or was he just laying the groundwork with her for after my visit? Better question... why hadn't he just broken up with me before he went off to college? Was he trying to keep his sure thing on the line in case he struck out with college girls?
This was Drew's fault. I was fine, sort of, before he made that comment about me regretting what I'd done with Tom. If he'd kept his mouth shut, it wouldn't've occurred to me to regret that until I was in the middle of my next econ test.
And what was that little crack about helping solve a mystery? Of all the people in my life, Drew should know I hated when people assumed I solved mysteries because of my name. In fact, the only thing I hated worse was the way kids in school used to say 'here comes Sherlock Holmes' whenever they saw the two of us together. Too bad I was nothing like the real Sherlock Holmes. He'd probably be too engrossed in one mystery or another for the embarrassing breakup to even register in his brain.
Why couldn't I be more like the fictional detective, minus the cocaine habit?
Wait. Why couldn't I?
Sure, I had no skills or training when it came to solving mysteries, but I'd read more than my fair share of them over the years. Books made it look easy to catch serial killers. Finding a stupid teacup pig in a small town couldn't be that hard.
I even knew where to start. I jumped out of bed and crossed the hall to Watson's room. While everyone else was assuming Champers was wandering around in a field frolicking with butterflies, I'd be on the trail of the people who stole our mascot.
If nothing else, this would be a great distraction for a few hours.
Just as I expected, Watson had left his tablet sitting on his bed. I picked it up and briefly wished I were as good at accepting who I was as my fourteen-year-old brother was. Instead of hiding from the fact that his legal name was William Watson Shakespeare, he actually used a cover for his tablet that looked like a leather-bound Shakespeare book. At least he got a cool middle name out of the deal. Wats was nine hundred gazillion times better than my middle name.
No power on earth would make me even acknowledge that name in my head. In fact, I'd become a master of covering
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