SquidgeWorld Archive

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

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"Package for you, sir," our landlady announced to us one morning as we were having breakfast in our London flat.

My friend was not expecting a delivery. His curiosity was piqued.

It was a dollhouse.

"Why would anyone be sending you a dollhouse?" I asked my friend.

"That is yet to be determined. There is no note accompanying it," he said.

Then a most unexpected thing happened.

My friend instantly shrank down to the size of a tiny doll.

He was now scaled down to the perfect size to be able to enter the dollhouse.

My friend, not one to waste time, immediately set about to find clues to this mysterious happening.

Meanwhile our landlady muttered something about now having to fetch tiny doll-size plates on which to serve my friend's meals. She left the flat and headed back downstairs.

"Who do you think is responsible for this?" I asked my friend as he searched the interior of the dollhouse.

"It could be any one of many persons eager to have me out of the way so that they can continue their criminal activities," my friend replied.

"Ah-ha! This briefcase I found inside the dollhouse may provide us with some answers," said my friend.

And sure enough, I saw my friend carrying a tiny briefcase that he had found in one of the rooms of the dollhouse.

I watched as my friend opened the briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper. He read it carefully.

"I might have known," he said.

"Dash it all, man," I said. "What does it say?"

Just then we heard the sound of a carriage pulling up outside.

"Oh, dear," I said to my friend. "What if that is someone in need of your services? You are in no condition to go out on a case."

"Nevertheless, let us see who is paying us a visit," he replied.

The visitor was brought up to our flat by our landlady.

"I was told that a brilliant detective resides here and might be able to help me," said the young woman.

I was not sure how to tell her that my friend was not quite fully himself at the moment.

Before my friend or I could say anything the visitor became very excited when she saw the dollhouse.

"I am astounded!" she exclaimed. "He is indeed a brilliant detective, for he has recovered my missing dollhouse before I have even uttered a word to him about it!"

"Excuse me, miss," I said. "Do you mean to say you are the owner of this dollhouse that was just moments ago delivered here anonymously?"

"Yes," she replied. "I would certainly recognize my favorite toy from childhood. My father gave it to me for Christmas when I was ten years old. It has a great sentimental value to me. Scotland Yard did not seem at all interested in helping me recover it when I reported it missing from my home last week."

My friend had been very quiet all this time while our visitor was here. I wondered why he had not spoken.

"Well, I will just take my beloved dollhouse home with me right now," she said as she bent down to retrieve it.

"Stop right there, miss," I said. How could I allow her to take the dollhouse when my friend was still inside it?

"I beg your pardon?" she asked as she stared at me with a look that I could describe as defiant.

"Do you have any proof of ownership? Anyone could simply walk in here, see this dollhouse and claim it as his or hers. I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to remove the dollhouse from the premises unless you can provide absolute proof that you are indeed the owner."

"You want proof? Here is a photograph taken last year of the dollhouse with me standing next to it."

It was indeed as she said. How could I stop her from taking it?

"All right, it is yours," I said. "But not all of the contents belong to you. There is something of mine inside the dollhouse that you cannot take with you."

"Whatever do you mean?"

I opened the latch to reveal the complete interior of the dollhouse. My friend had entered through the tiny door. I quickly peered inside to see where he was now. What I saw horrified me.

There was a tiny doll that resembled my friend. It stood near the tiny staircase, and it was dressed in clothes similar to my friend's clothes. It even had a tiny pipe and a tiny magnifying glass.

But where were the tiny briefcase and the sheet of paper that my friend was reading? I did not see those items. Perhaps they were behind some of the tiny furniture.

"Everything appears to be in order. Those are all of my dollhouse furnishings and the little doll."

"Excuse me?" I said. "The only doll I see there is the one resembling my dear friend! The brilliant detective you came to see! Now, this might sound unbelievable, but moments before you arrived here, my friend was somehow made to shrink in size. He is inside this dollhouse, and I am almost certain that he then changed into this very doll you see! I cannot allow you to take him!"

She stared at me and said, "Sir, are you mad? What you have told me is physically impossible. Now I am going to take my dollhouse and its contents with me. Don't try to stop me. "

Our defiant visitor found her way to the door blocked by our landlady.

"Step aside," said the visitor with the dollhouse in her arms.

"No," our landlady replied. "I think it would be best if you and that dollhouse not leave until we get this all sorted out."

Our visitor glared at her. She gently placed the dollhouse back on the floor. Then she spoke to us.

"I will give you one more chance to allow me to leave here with my dollhouse and its contents. Otherwise you will both be very sorry. Believe me."

"Why don't we send for the authorities to settle this matter?" I suggested. "We have a friend who is an inspector at Scotland Yard. He might be willing to help."

"No," said our visitor. "We'll do this my way."

Suddenly the room, our visitor and the dollhouse instantly shot up in size. Or so it seemed, for in reality, our landlady and I shrank in size, just as my friend had earlier.

"Doctor!" cried our landlady. "What's happened?"

"Try not to panic," I told her, "but we somehow shrank to the size of tiny dolls!"

I myself was trying not to scream out loud when our visitor reached down and grabbed me with one hand. I saw our terrified landlady in the visitor's other hand. We were both then placed inside the dollhouse. The side of the dollhouse was then shut and latched securely.

We were trapped inside. The only light we had was what streamed inside through the tiny windows.

I carefully made my way over to the doll that resembled my dear friend. He was stiff and showed no signs of life. Was this doll indeed my friend? Incredible as it may seem, I had the strongest feeling that it was true.

Our landlady was shaking in fear and sobbing.

"There, there," I said. "Let's just sit down and think of our options."

"Options? What options? We're trapped inside a dollhouse!"

Suddenly we felt a series of tremors. The dollhouse was being lifted off of the floor and was being carried.

We could hear our visitor as she spoke to us.

"You could have simply left well enough alone," she said. "But no. Now you'll pay for your interference. I was willing to have just the one new detective doll to keep in my dollhouse. But now I'll have to add the doctor and the landlady as well. So here you are. And here all three of you will stay forever! Get used to your new living quarters, for you're never leaving it!"

She laughed. It was an evil laugh that made my blood run cold.

"Who are you? Why have you done this to us? And how did you do it?" I shouted.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she answered. "Just sit down, all of you. I'll be carrying this dollhouse down the stairs, so you'd better keep your fingers crossed and hope that I don't trip on any of the steps. You wouldn't want to end up crushed inside a smashed dollhouse, would you?"

"Doctor, I feel very strange," said our landlady as the dollhouse with us inside was being carried down the stairs.

"So do I," I replied. It was as I feared. We were quickly turning into lifeless tiny dolls scaled to "live" inside this dollhouse.

By the time our visitor reached the bottom of the stairs and exited the building, our landlady and I were lying prone on the floor of the dollhouse and looked like mere toys. I could not speak or move. But I was aware of my surroundings. I could hear and see what was in front of me. I wondered if the same was true for my friend and our landlady.

This must be some nightmare, I thought to myself. Yes, a nightmare from which I will awaken any moment. And I will be in my bedroom. And our dear landlady will be arriving soon with our breakfast and tea!

I slowly counted to ten. But nothing changed. I was still a tiny doll trapped inside the dollhouse. So were my dear friend and landlady.

I could hear carriage wheels in motion and horses' hooves trotting. We were now being transported away from our London flat. But where was she taking us?

"Daddy! You're finally back from your travels! It's been much too long. Come and look, Daddy. Come see my new dolls I have for my dollhouse."

The Professor accompanied his daughter to see what she had acquired while he was away. He provided her with a generous allowance so that she buy whatever she wanted.

"That's nice, dear. I'm touched that even after all these years since I gave you this dollhouse you still enjoy playing with it."

"It's my absolute favorite toy ever, Daddy. Do you like the new dolls? I've been playing with them for weeks now."

"Hmm. Yes, dear. They remind me of some people I might have seen sometime. Who are they supposed to be?"

"This is the landlady. And this is the detective. And this is the doctor."

"You don't say. Very nice, dear."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I'm going to read the paper now before we have dinner. You go on and continue playing with your dolls."

"Yes, Daddy." She happily sang softly and carefully picked up the detective doll and moved him from one room to another. Then she did the same with the doctor doll. And then she did the same with the landlady doll.

The Professor settled down in his favorite armchair and opened the evening paper. A front page story caught his attention. The headline read, "Disappearance of Baker Street Occupants Remains a Mystery".

He read of how a certain famous consulting detective, his landlady and doctor friend all mysteriously disappeared about a month ago.

The Professor looked over at his daughter playing with her dolls and the dollhouse. She was growing more and more to look like her mother. The Professor had become a widower ten years ago when his wife died in a tragic accident. He dismissed rumors of his late wife having supernatural abilities due to her being a descendent of Gypsies who practiced the black arts of magic.

He thought of the strong physical resemblance of the dolls to the missing persons described in the newspaper story. Then he shook his head.

No, it's impossible, he said to himself. I couldn't possibly ever be that lucky. The blasted detective will no doubt turn up at any moment to interfere with my plans. It's only a matter of time.

He sighed and read the other parts of the paper while his daughter played happily nearby.

The Professor's daughter smiled. She was the only one who could hear the anguished cries of the occupants of the dollhouse. She ignored their pleas to free them from their imprisonment.

"You are mine forever," she whispered softly. She meant that especially for the detective doll as she held him in her hand ever so gently.

COMING SOON:

BONUS FEATURES
Deleted Scenes
Alternate Ending
Audio Commentary by the Detective and the Doctor
And you won't even need to buy the DVD to get these!

The illustrated version of this story can be viewed at:

http://www.angelfire.com/tv2/jeanster/SHPics/SH1.html