6
THE JOURNAL

Griffin pulled his thin legs up to his chin, trying to get comfortable in the chair by his uncle’s hospital bed. The blanket that the nurse had provided him didn’t bring much comfort, for he was much too anxious about his uncle’s grave condition to sleep.

Griffin stared at his uncle’s scruffy face, noting his receding hairline and his familiar bushy eyebrows. The moonlight illuminated his features, making them look even paler than they already were. Worry gnawed at Griffin’s insides, and no matter how hard he tried, he found that he was having difficulty trusting that everything would turn out okay.

Please, God, let him wake up soon. It had been two days since the accident, and the doctors were growing more and more concerned.

He and his father were taking shifts by his uncle’s bedside. Griffin was very thankful that he’d met his father at the tavern and had found out that both of his parents were okay and had not been kidnapped after all! His dad had been surprised to see the man he’d heard so much about from Griffin’s mother, and had made sure that Rupert was given the best care that the hospital could supply.

After the joyful reunion with his parents, Griffin was relieved to find out that the sinister telegram must have been a hoax or a mistake. But the more he thought about it, the more Griffin realized he still wasn’t sure about it. Something about the telegram hinted at a scheme, possibly something that Moriarty was behind.

Feeling worried, Griffin bit at his thumbnail while studying the bedside table next to his sleeping uncle. His eyes fell on his uncle’s worn, brown derby. The lumpy hat sat next to Rupert’s house key and his favorite leather notebook. It made Griffin feel a renewed sense of sadness as he stared at the familiar items. What if his uncle never woke up and used them again?

It was such a terrible thought that Griffin tried to push it from his mind, attempting to distract himself by counting things in the hospital room. Unfortunately for him, he had already counted the tiny flowers on the curtains (one thousand two hundred and twenty-three), the speckled tiles on the floor (eighty-six), and the tiniest stains near the baseboards (twelve) three times already and couldn’t find many other things of interest in the room to count and ease his restless mind.

On an impulse, he reached over and took his uncle’s notebook from the bedside table. Rupert had always been touchy about anyone looking inside of it, but Griffin was so desperate to relieve the long hours of waiting, he couldn’t help himself. He hoped that under the circumstances, his uncle would have understood. Perhaps he would even find something written there that might be helpful to his uncle.

It was hard to see at first what was inscribed on the pages, for the distinctive brown ink his uncle used to write with was only slightly darker than the ivory paper. But as he studied the pale markings, Griffin realized what the pages contained.

His uncle’s inventions!

A dazzling array of complex machinery, all carefully drawn with a fountain pen, sprawled over the notebook pages. Griffin felt that he had never in his life seen so many amazing ideas displayed at once!

Griffin marveled at his uncle’s creativity. It seemed that there was no end to the things he planned to build. He slowly turned the pages, noting the name of each invention and the description and illustration beside each one.

The Snodgrass Sweeper. Next to the description, Griffin saw a sketch of a funnel-shaped device with a brush-driven propeller inside of it.

The Snodgrass Electronic Ear. A listening device held next to a man’s head with curling wires extending for many yards in front of him. At the base of the wires, Griffin saw something that looked like the end of a doctor’s stethoscope. He assumed that the invention was supposed to allow the listener to eavesdrop on conversations.

Could be useful, Griffin thought. But not very polite.

He turned the page.

The Snodgrass Foot Wing. Griffin tried to muffle a laugh when he saw the sketch. It was a mechanical wing attached to an old boot. Was it supposed to make someone fly or run really fast? In spite of his uncle’s brilliance, Griffin felt that he might be prone to a couple of crackpot ideas once in a while.

He perused the rest of the journal, casually noting the many devices. Most were devoted to some aspect of self-defense or crime solving. But occasionally, there were sketches of things so unusual that Griffin had a hard time making sense of them.

He was about to return the journal to the bedside table when his eyes fell on the description of a truly remarkable device.

The Snodgrass Chrono-Teleporter. Griffin raised his eyebrows as he studied the illustration. He’d seen his uncle working on this device back on Baker Street, and Rupert had told him that it was shaping up to be the greatest invention he’d ever made. The mechanical drawing extended over several pages, detailing intricate clockworks and mathematical formulae.

But when he turned to the last detailed sketch, he had to smirk. All of this incredibly complicated machinery was contained in a very unlikely shell.

“Why, it’s just a silly old teapot,” he said.

“There’s nothing silly about it, boy,” croaked an irritated voice.

Griffin jumped at the sound. His eyes shot from the journal to the bed, and he felt the notebook slip from his hands, hitting the floor with a thud as he stared, unbelieving, at what he saw.

His uncle’s eyes were open!

Happy tears blurred his vision as Griffin moved automatically to his uncle’s bedside. Rupert, who was still very pale, stared up at him with a weak version of his usual scowl.

“It’s not a teapot at all, boy,” he growled. “It’s a device made for traveling through time. Anyone with half a brain could’ve seen that.”

But the outrageous claim didn’t register with Griffin. All he could think about was the fact that God had heard his prayers and that his uncle Rupert was going to be okay. Relief flooded through him as he gave his uncle’s hand a gentle squeeze. Then Griffin rushed back toward the door and called down the deserted hallway.

“Dad, come quick!” Griffin shouted. “Uncle Rupert is awake!”