Prince Toby has started his own diary for National Novel Writing Month. You can follow his adventures here.
Thursday 24th November 2022
Weight: 1277g (so very hungry!), cucumber consumption: 0 slices (does cucumber even still exist?), escape attempts: 4 (tactical tiring out of Human No. 1 for wholly selfish reasons), interruption of Very Important Human Tasks for No Reason Whatsoever: 4 (see above), interruption of Very Important Human Tasks for Toilet-Related or Other Emergencies: 0 (took pity on Human No. 1 after all the climbing)
7.30 am: No sign of Human No. 1 yet. This bodes well for unbathday!
8.01 am: She’s finally surfaced, looking peaky again. Don’t think she’ll manage giving me my bath. Oh well!
9.13 am: Still no sign of bath. Lalala!
10.22 am: Ick! Am in bath. Human No. 1 has made miraculous recovery. Not fair!
10.35 am: Am out of bath now. Climbing the walls to see if I can tire out Human No. 1 again so that she can’t give me a bath tomorrow. She doesn’t seem very happy with me.
11.01 am: Albie has had a super-duper genius idea about bath day. He suggested that I bribe my new friend Bernard into having my bath for me and that my humans might not notice the difference. I bet they wouldn’t! Am going to try it tomorrow.
11.43 am: More climbing, just to ensure that Human No. 1 stays super-duper extra tired and can’t possibly bath me tomorrow (just in case the Bernard trick doesn’t work).
12.02 pm: Actually, am a bit tired myself now. Think I’ll have a quick snooze . . .
2.21 pm: Aaaaaaarggghhhh! Overslept! Need to get started on the finale of The Tort of the Baskervilles!!!
Prince Toby Presents
Sherlock Tobes and Dr Tortson in
The Tort of the Baskervilles – Part 6
The Final Final Part – definitely, 100%, probably
‘Right,’ said Tobes. ‘There’s only one thing for it.’
‘And what’s that?’ I asked, just as Sir Torty re-entered the room with a humungous plate of cucumber sandwiches, although one or two of them looked nibbled. (I suspect The Mysterious S!)
‘Yes!’ said Tobes gravely. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been called away to London on urgent business.’
‘But you’ve only just got here!’ Sir Torty protested.
‘Yes, well, I’m a very busy and important tort,’ said Tobes. ‘Can’t be helped.’
‘Look like it’s just you and me then, old chap,’ Sir Torty said, patting me on the shell with his claw.
‘Erm, no, actually, I need Tortson to come with me,’ Tobes said sharply. ‘He’s very useful in these kind of situations.’
‘Is he?’ Sir Torty asked doubtfully.
‘Am I?’ I echoed.
‘Of course, my dear tort,’ Tobes said. ‘You are my right-hand tort. I’d be lost without you. In fact, we had better get off straight away.’
‘B-but what about the Tort of the Baskervilles?’ Sir Torty asked.
‘Oh, I’m sure it will be fine,’ Tobes assured him. ‘And don’t forget to go to Tortleton’s house very late at night for dinner and do make sure that you walk back nice and slowly across the moors and don’t bother to take a lantern with you.’
‘But—’
‘Must dash! Tally-ho!’
And with that, we left Baskerville Hall.
‘I say, Tobes, you’re not really going to leave Sir Torty to face Tortleton alone?’
‘Patience, my dear tort,’ he said. ‘We shall not desert Sir Torty in his hour of need. But first, I think we shall pay a little visit to Torta Lyons.’
Needless to say, Torta Lyons was not very pleased to see me. ‘You again!’ she huffed, eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve told you all I’m going to tell you.’
‘You don’t need to tell us anything,’ Tobes said smugly. ‘We already know. Tortleton asked you to write that letter to Sir Torts, didn’t he?’
‘I shall never tell!’ she snapped.
‘Did Mrs Tortleton know that you had designs on her husband?’ Tobes asked.
‘Mrs Tortleton? Whatever do you mean?’
‘He has a wife already. She posed as his sister. He lured you into his plot when she refused to help him.’
‘Why the little— it was all his idea! He dictated the letter to me, then told me not to go. But I had no idea what he was planning! I hope that the Tort of the Baskervilles gets the rotter!’ she said, eyes blazing.
‘You have been very ill-used,’ Tobes agreed. ‘But fear not. Tortleton will not bother you again. Good day to you, madam. Tortson! We have a train to meet.’
We hurried to the station just as the London express pulled in and, from it, Inspector Letort alighted.
‘Good to see you, Letort,’ said Tobes. ‘We must get to work at once.’
Infuriating as ever, Tobes refused to tell us exactly what that work was, but as we crept across the moors towards Tortleton’s house, I had a good idea of what it might entail.
‘Looks like they are just having their dessert,’ said Tobes as he peered surreptitiously through the dining-room window. ‘Good God!’ he exclaimed suddenly.
‘Tobes, what is it?’ I asked, immediately ready for action.
‘Cucumber cheesecake! Looks homemade as well.’
‘Gosh,’ I said, ‘do you think there might be a slice left afterwards?’
‘We must hope so, Tortson.’
‘Erm, folks?’ Letort said. ‘Do you think we ought to move away from the window before they catch sight of us?’
‘Good idea,’ said Tobes, ‘although I don’t like the look of this fog. I’ve planned for 100% absolutely everything except for the fog, even though I saw it on the weather forecast last night. And I’m usually so careful about these things.’
‘But what if we lose Sir Torty in the fog?’ I asked, aghast.
Tobes shrugged. ‘Then he’ll probably be horribly mangled by the Tort of the Baskervilles. Still, can’t be helped!’
Just then, Sir Torty left the house and stepped out onto the moors. Immediately, there was a great moan and, through the fog, I saw a luminescent shape charging towards Sir Torty.
‘We’re too late!’ I wailed as Sir Torty let out a strangled scream and fell to the ground.
The great beast stood over him, making a horrible chomp-slurping sound as we approached.
‘Don’t look, Tortson,’ Tobes advised, but I could not help it. I was transfixed as I watched the spectral giant tort snuffling at Sir Torty’s breast pocket and I was sure, in that moment, that the Tort of the Baskervilles was eating Sir Torty’s heart right out of his chest.
Just then, I heard a low moan and saw Sir Torty raise his arm towards me. ‘Help me up then, Tortson,’ he said, ‘before this beast eats all of this cucumber cheesecake from my pocket.’
‘Hey, who are you calling a beast?’ asked the Tort of the Baskervilles, raising his head and licking his lips greedily. ‘I’m just a giant tort covered in phosphorus who was dragged into this whole ridiculous spectacle to pay off a gambling debt I owed to that rotter, Tortleton. Mind you, he makes a very good cucumber cheesecake.’
‘We must capture Tortleton!’ said Tobes charging over to the house.
‘I’ll just be on my way then, shall I?’ the Tort of the Baskervilles shouted after him.
‘You can come home with me,’ said Sir Torty, ‘if you’d like. It’s a bit miserable in that spooky old house all by myself.’
‘Okay,’ said the Tort of the Baskervilles happily. ‘Do you have cucumber cheesecake?’
‘I can ask Mrs Tortymore to make some.’
‘Perhaps we should ask Tortleton for the recipe?’ said the Tort of the Baskervilles hopefully.
‘I doubt that will be possible,’ said Tobes, who had suddenly rematerialized beside us. ‘I just spoke to Mrs— er, I mean Miss— no, I mean Mrs Tortleton, and she said her husband has gone to the Grimpen Mire to his secret place.’
‘Then he is lost to us!’ Letort exclaimed.
‘I suspect that he is lost to himself also,’ Tobes replied, ‘for it is too dark for him to pick his perilous route through the bog. No, I don’t think he’ll find the Mire very hospitable tonight,’ he added gleefully. ‘Letort, get Sir Torty back home. He’s had a bit of a shock.’
Letort nodded and helped Sir Torty to his feet. They limped across the moors, with the Tort of the Baskervilles trotting cheerfully behind them, chattering all the way.
‘I must say, it’s a lovely night for a midnight stroll. Don’t you think? Look at the moon. Almost makes you want to howl.’ He let out a loud, eerie howl which echoed across the moors to illustrate his point. ‘Say, does anyone know a good phosphorus remover?’
‘Tortson, with me!’ Tobes instructed as we watched the retreating figures. ‘We have to ensure that Tortleton is gone, once and for all.’
As we made our way to the Grimpen Mire, we caught sight of a dark figure hopping along on tiptoes to the centre of the bog. He gave a triumphant yell as he reached a patch of firm ground.
‘He’s getting away!’ I hissed.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Tobes. ‘Look!’
A pony-shaped silhouette was rising from the bog. With a determined whinny, it bit Tortleton on the bottom and pushed him into the bog.
‘Artax!’ I shouted as the pony shook the mud from his coat and trotted carefully towards us.
‘I’ve been waiting down there for ages for an opportunity to push him into the bog,’ Artax said with a toothy grin. ‘Good job I bought that snorkelling equipment!’
‘Is this where Tortleton kept the Tort of the Baskervilles?’ I asked the pony, gesturing towards the centre of the bog.
‘I should say so,’ said Tobes, holding up a huge stash of mud-covered cucumber.
‘Oh, that joker?’ said Artax, rolling his eyes. ‘He wouldn’t shut up! I was almost tempted to push him into the bog.’
‘So all is solved then?’ I asked Tobes when we were back in the comfort of Baker Street.
‘Oh yes,’ said Tobes. ‘Turns out that Tortleton was, in fact the son of Torter Baskerville, Sir Torts’ nefarious younger brother. He was also called Torter, because I can’t be bothered to think of another name. Plus, it shows a nice touch of narcissism on his father’s part. Anyway, it’s all sorted now. Tortleton, as I shall undoubtedly always call him, died a horrible death, Sir Torty has gone on a nice spa break with Sir Tortimer and the Tort of the Baskervilles (who turned out to be a bog-standard giant tortoise, covered in phosphorus – get it? Bog-standard), and it transpired that Tortleton had left behind that cucumber cheesecake recipe after all.’
‘And Torta Lyons? Mrs— I mean Miss— I mean, Mrs Tortleton? What has become of them?’
‘Well I don’t know, do I?’ scoffed Tobes. ‘You don’t think I pay any attention to what female torts are doing, except for one very special tort. Ah! Speak of the devil!’ Tobes said as Mrs Hudtort swept into the room with a plate covered with a white cloth.
‘Fair enough,’ I said, as Mrs Hudtort put down the plate. ‘But Tobes,’ I gasped, realising that he hadn’t told me the most important detail of the whole case. ‘Who has the cucumber cheesecake recipe?’
Tobes grinned at me and removed the white cloth from Mrs Hudtort’s plate with a great flourish. ‘We do, my dear tort.’
THE END
4.56 pm: Have finished my literary masterpiece! Hurrah!
5.15 pm: Turns out Bernard has some weird friends. Thought that the carrot wearing a woolly jumper was a bit odd (not sure carrots need woolly jumpers) but the mouse wearing a mince pie was just another level of strange.
5.20 pm: The carrot is called Kevin, by the way, and Wendy’s House Bunnies have named the mouse Penelope.
6.00 pm: Time to set this week’s Tortmaster task . . .
6.05 pm: Look out for the launch of this Tortmaster task on Twitter tonight during the first break of Taskmaster.
6.08 pm: Right. Must have a snooze now to prepare for my Tortmaster duties!
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! Look out for the new task tonight during the first break of Taskmaster.
Comments