Prince Toby has started his own diary for National Novel Writing Month. You can follow his adventures here.
Wednesday 23rd November 2022
Weight: 1280g (am wasting away), cucumber consumption: 0 slices ( 0000000 for ever and ever!!!), escape attempts: 3 (digging to Australia), interruption of Very Important Human Tasks for No Reason Whatsoever: 3 (Australia escape attempts – and I was quite happy for her to ignore me on this one), interruption of Very Important Human Tasks for Toilet-Related or Other Emergencies: 2 (lots of climbing to alert Human No. 1 to this fact!)
7.40 am: Was all snuggly and dug into my corner and Human No. 1 insisted on plonking me under my lamp. Rude!
10.04 am: Had a super-duper snooze and dreamed of spectral giant torts and phosphorus. Don’t know why . . .
10.17 am: Another day, another bath. Why????????????????????????
10.33 am: Am out of bath. Hurrah!
11.33 am: Human No. 1 has been for her COVID booster today and is looking a bit ropey. She nearly dropped me earlier! Hope she doesn’t fall violently ill before Human No. 2 gets home.
12.01 pm: Am climbing up corner because I have some toilet mess for Human No. 1 to attend to and she’s just not getting the message. HELLOOOOOO????
12.13 pm: Phew! She finally heard me. Am sorted now.
12.27 pm: Having a go at digging my way to Australia again. Human No. 1 keeps interrupting me. Go and sit down! You’re looking a bit peaky!
1.07 pm: Right. Must get on with my masterpiece.
Prince Toby Presents
Sherlock Tobes and Dr Tortson in
The Tort of the Baskervilles – Part 5
The Final Part – maybe . . . probably . . . not sure yet . . .
‘Tobes?’ I said, my voice rising.
‘Tortson,’ he replied calmly.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’
‘Investigating, my dear tort,’ he said with a glint in his eye.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Then what am I doing?’
‘Being my trusty sidekick, as per usual,’ he told me.
Well, I wasn’t having that! Don’t get me wrong, I was relieved to see him, but why on earth hadn’t he told me he was here? And why was I wasting my time writing painfully detailed reports to him about the goings on in Devonshire when he could see them with his own eyes? Really, this was too much!
‘I’m not sure why you bothered to send me here at all,’ I said sulkily.
‘Well, I couldn’t exactly turn up at Baskerville Hall myself could I?’ he said with a loud sigh. ‘The great Sherlock Tobes would have definitely put everyone on their guard. You on the other hand . . .’
‘Well, thank you very much! You could at least have told me what you were planning.’
Holmes laughed. ‘And let you give the game away? If you’d known I was here, you would have been bringing me cucumber cream teas every day. I really must try one when I get to Baskerville Hall though. They sound delightful . . .’
‘But what have you been doing all this time, Tobes?’ I asked, determined not to be distracted by cucumber cream teas.
‘Oh, this and that,’ he said casually. ‘Just making a few discoveries.’
‘Such as—’
‘Nothing major. Just that Mrs— er, I mean Miss Tortleton is actually Mrs Tortleton.’
‘Tortleton’s wife?’
‘Indeed. Oh and Tortleton is a cold-blooded killer, his wife sent that warning note to Sir Torty in London and Torta Lyons is Tortleton’s lover and thinks he is going to marry her. She has played an important role in this business.’
‘And Tortleton is trying to kill Sir Torty?’
‘It would appear so. Actually, Tortson, it was rather sloppy of you to leave him unattended. Just think what kind of danger you might have placed him in.’
Just then a piercing shriek rang out across the moors.
‘The tort!’ Tobes shouted. ‘Pray that we are not too late!’
We were too late. I stood before the body, looking for signs of life, but his neck was broken and I didn’t need my many years of medical training to tell me that he was gone.
‘Poor Sir Torty,’ I wailed. ‘How I have failed you!’
‘Never fear, Tortson,’ Tobes said. ‘This isn’t Sir Torty. It’s the convict, Tortden, conveniently dressed up in Sir Torty’s clothes for plot reasons. And he was a convict and a working-class tort, so we’re not really bothered that he has been terrified by the Tort of the Baskervilles, tripped over some rocks and broken his neck. He was only a subplot, after all.’
‘This is Tortleton’s doing!’ I fumed.
‘Did somebody say my name?’ asked Tortleton, peering eagerly at Tortden’s mangled body. ‘Oh dear, oh dear. What’s going on here then? I hope that’s not Sir Torty’s mangled body,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Then you are in luck,’ said Tobes, returning Tortleton’s smile. ‘It’s not Sir Torty. It’s just the unfortunate escape convict, Tortden.’
‘But . . . but he’s wearing Sir Torty’s clothes!’ Tortleton reasoned.
‘Yes, that’s just for plot reasons,’ I said helpfully.
‘So, Sir Torty is absolutely 100% unharmed and unmangled?’ Tortleton asked.
‘As far as we know,’ said Tobes. ‘In fact, we’re off to Baskerville Hall now to meet him.’
‘Well, what a great relief that is,’ Tortleton mumbled. ‘I had asked him to walk across the moors in the middle of the night to see me, so I was worried that he had been horribly mangled by the Tort of the Baskervilles. Do you want me to come with you, just in case he’s been horribly mangled as well?’ he added hopefully.
‘That’s quite alright,’ said Tobes. ‘I’m sure we can handle things from here.’
And, with that, we made our way to Baskerville Hall.
Sir Torty was delighted to see Tobes, but Tobes was too busy staring at an old painting in the Baskerville portrait gallery to pay him much heed.
‘Who is that?’ he asked, ignoring Sir Torty’s enquiries about the absence of his luggage.
‘Oh, that’s old Torto Baskerville. You know, the incredibly evil Baskerville from the old Baskerville legend. The one who was eaten by the Tort of the Baskervilles.’
When Sir Torty left the room to ask Mrs Tortymore for some cucumber sandwiches and to inform her that her brother has been horribly mangled by the Tort of the Baskervilles (after she’d made the sandwiches, of course – he’s not a monster!), Tobes gestured towards the portrait and asked, ‘remind you of anyone?’
‘Well, I suppose he does bear a slight resemblance to Sir Torty,’ I said, ‘but that’s hardly surprising, is it?’
‘Anyone else?’
I squinted up at the portrait. ‘Nobody whatsoever.’
‘How about now?’ Holmes asked, covering the portrait’s curly locks with his leg.
‘Good God!’ I exclaimed. ‘It can’t be.’
‘But it is!’ said Tobes triumphantly. ‘The disguise is a clever one, to be sure. The hair is completely different. It reminds me of a newspaper reporter I once met who was leading a double life as a super-powered alien who rescued pretty ladies from burning buildings. The only thing that distinguished one of his identities from the other was a well-placed pair of glasses. His disguise was impenetrable. That is, until the reporter’s girlfriend convinced him to do a contact lens free trial at Specsavers and then the game was up, of course . . . Vanity and dissatisfied girlfriends are the downfall of many a great man.’
I stared up at the picture, wondering how I hadn’t seen it before. Sir Torto Baskerville was the spitting image of the viper at the heart of this nest of iniquity. Tortleton! He had a claim to the Baskerville fortune. And Sir Torty was the only thing standing in his way.
To be continued . . .
2.45 pm: Hmmm. Apparently, this isn’t the last instalment.
2.47 pm: What has the dastardly Tortleton got planned next? How will Tobes and Tortson thwart him? Where have those cucumber sandwiches got to? Find out tomorrow in the final final instalment of The Tort of the Baskervilles. Same tort time. Same tort channel.
3.48 pm: Human No. 1 is definitely flagging now. If there are any nonsensical errors in my diary tonight, or if it’s just a bit rubbish, blame her (even though I totally 100% write every word myself and she is just my lowly Editortial Assistant).
4.16 pm: Phew! Time for a snooze.
6.15 pm: Oooh! Tortmaster tomorrow! Look out for a new task! How exciting!
6.33 pm: Human No. 1 is hanging on by a thread now. She had better be well enough to look after me tomorrow because Human No. 2 has to go into work again.
6.36 pm: On second thoughts, she had better not to exert herself too much. I’m sure that I can forgo my bath for a day if it means that she can have a proper rest . . .
6.54 pm: Met a new tort tonight. His name is Bernard and he’s a bit porky (think he needs to go into wind down) but he’s a nice enough chap. For some reason, I got really hungry whilst looking at him and started humming Christmas carols. Strange. Also, think one of his relatives has moved in with my Twitter tort friend Herman. Perhaps they could be pen pals. Anyway, everyone has been super-duper friendly to Bernard on Twitter. Hurrah!
7.01 pm: Another busy day. Let’s hope Human No. 1 has a lovely snooze tonight and also tomorrow during the day. I’ll try to soldier on without her. What a brave tort I am!
You can follow Prince Toby on Twitter @PrinceTobyTort (and Instagram, where he is now frantically trying to learn the ropes in case of Twitter explosion, also @PrinceTobyTort). Also, play Tortmaster on Twitter! The prize task is now open! Look out for a new task every Thursday night during the first break of Taskmaster.
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