Band Gnomes

The Lie

Whenever he wasn't solving a mystery or fighting his arch enemy, Sherlock Gnomes would spend most of his days practicing either his fighting skills or his violin. Today, he had his violin in hand and was playing a new composition he had just learned. Sherlock had always been an accomplished musician, but he wasn't trying as hard as he would on other days. Suddenly, his train of thought was interrupted by the outside telephone ringing.

"Don't worry, I'll get it." Dr. Watson offered, taking the first opportunity to get as far away from the shrill notes and whiny chords as possible.

"Yes, you do that, Watson. Thank you." Sherlock said, turning his attention back to the instrument in his hand. "That blasted device nearly made me lose my concentration."

Watson smirked and rolled his eyes before hopping up onto the porch table and answering the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello. Is a Sherlock Gnomes there?" A male voice on the other end asked.

"Oh, yes. But I'm afraid he's rather busy at the moment." Watson replied.

"I'm sure whatever he's doing can wait. I'd like to speak with him now, if you please."

"If you insist." Watson turned his head to his friend. "Sherlock, it's for you."

Sherlock sighed and ran over to his friend, still holding his violin. "Coming, coming. This had better be important." He set the violin down and went over to the telephone. "Hello, this is Sherlock Gnomes. To whom am I speaking and how may I help?"

"Sounds as though you have a dying animal to attend to, eh little brother?" The voice said tauntingly.

Sherlock suddenly froze; he knew this voice all too well. He nearly gasped. "Mycroft?!"

Watson froze as well. He knew Sherlock had an older brother, but he had never actually met Mycroft Gnomes.

"Yes, it's me." Mycroft replied. "I hear you've been rescuing ornaments all over the city. Would you say that's true?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Yes. They don't call me 'the world's first consulting detective and sworn protector of London's garden gnomes' for nothing, you know."

"Oh, there you go again. You were always the vain one."

"Oh, me? I'm the vain one?"

"Obviously. You boast to no end."

"Ugh. Mycroft, we're getting off track. Why have you called?"

"Oh yes, of course. I just wanted to tell you some important news."

"Which is?"

"I'm not only a member of the British Gnome Government, but I'm also the leader of a grand and marvelous band now and we're supposed to be playing the Royal Doulton Bowl in a few days."

Sherlock's eyes widened in shock. "The R-R-R-Royal D-D-D-D-Doulton—"

"That's right. I'm living your old dream, Shirley old boy. But I have a bit of a problem. My band and I have been quite busy for the past several days and we can't make it to the Doulton Bowl. So I called you hoping that you and your band could cover for us."

"My band? Cover for you? Why in the name of all things fragile and porcelain would I do that?"

"Because it's what brothers do... You do have a band, don't you Sherlock?"

"Oh! Well I-I-I, um, I mean, I uh..." Sherlock was at a loss of words, something Watson had never seen before. He had never seen his partner in crime solving look so flustered or scared.

"I knew it!" Mycroft's voice cried out with a wicked laugh. "You don't even have a band! I'll let you get back to finding lost toys and battling ice cream truck mascots now."

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, MYCROFT!!" Sherlock yelled into the phone. "It just so happens that I'm not just a detective! I DO have a band and we are going to play that Royal Doulton Bowl! How do you like that, big brother?"

Watson's eye widened; he couldn't believe what had just transpired. Sherlock rarely lied and when he did, he always had a plan. But this? This was just too out of character for the great Sherlock Gnomes.

"Oh really? Well good luck this upcoming Friday. I hope the audience brings lots of earplugs and ibuprofen." Mycroft said before hanging up.

Sherlock and Watson stood there in shock, realizing what Sherlock had just said. Watson reluctantly put the phone back to its original place.

"...Why did you say that?!" He cried.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Sherlock screamed in panic. "What am I going to do?! What was I thinking?! I don't have a band! And now when Mycroft finds out that I lied, he'll never let me live it down!"

"Okay, okay! Calm down, calm down!" Watson and Sherlock each took a deep breath and mildly relaxed. "We can handle this. Perhaps if we just explain everything—"

Then Sherlock got an idea. "Wait! Mycroft doesn't have to know that I lied. We can put together a band ourselves."

"But HOW?" Watson asked. "The Doulton Bowl is this Friday, which is in four days!"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Watson opened his mouth to speak before he paused and sighed in defeat. "No, I suppose not. But what are we going to do?"

"We'll need to drum up a band, fast." Sherlock paused before giving himself a light facepalm. "Drum, band humor."

"But who are we going to find?"

"Don't worry, Watson. I know exactly who to call." Sherlock smiled.