Sycn by Hana.Bean www.Addic7ed.com
Man, I love london.
Would you stop? She's never going to date you.
I was talking about the city.
But I'd love to take a tour of the other london too.
Sorry to rain on your parade,
but she's very picky about the guys that she dates.
- You gotta be rich. - I'm rich.
You gotta be tall.
I'm rich.
Well, it looks like that guy's both.
So how do you clean your moat?
We use that white round thingy on the side
that turns the water blue.
We use that too--
ever since our alligator ate the moat boy.
Hi, guys. Have you met the lord?
Well, once I ran my bike into a tree,
and I saw this bright white light and I wasn't quite sure
- if it was the lord-- - ohhhhh!
Not that lord. This lord.
Lord hartley wicket. He's 25th in line for the throne.
Oh, that happens all the time when they have the buffet.
You can use the employee throne back here, if you like.
There's a sign about washing your hands, but it's just a suggestion.
So what would you like?
- From you? Nothing. - Ugh.
Well, enough chit-chat with the unwashed masses.
I'll pick you up after my football match.
Oooh, I like football-- shoulder pads and makeup.
So, uh, what do you play? "Uptight" end?
I'm not talking about that wimpy offspring of rugby
you colonists call football. I'm talking about
what you yanks call soccer.
Whatever. Look, everybody knows
that the best sport is hoops.
- Mm-hmm. - Really?
I'm quite a good hoops player myself.
Maybe we should play a little two on two.
You guys against me and my boarding-school chum
snively snodgrass.
- Well, you're on.
This is so exciting! The ugly Americans versus the englanders.
- You're American. - Not for tax purposes.
♪ Oh ay oh, oh ay oh ♪
♪ come along with me ♪
♪ and let's head out to see ♪
♪ what this world has ♪
♪ for you and for me now ♪
♪ whichever way the wind blows ♪
- ♪ we say... ♪ - ♪ hey-ho, let's go! ♪
- ♪ oh ay oh ♪ - ♪ this boat's rocking ♪
- ♪ oh ay oh ♪ - ♪ ain't no stopping us now ♪
♪ 'cause we're living the suite life ♪
- ♪ oh ay oh ♪ - ♪ this boat's rocking ♪
- ♪ oh ay oh ♪ - ♪ rocking the whole world round ♪
♪ and we're living the suite life now ♪
♪ hey ho! Oh ay oh ♪
♪ let's go! ♪
I wish Cody would hurry up.
There's so many incredible things I want to see in london.
Cheerio, old chums.
Why are you dressed like my grandmother's loveseat?
I thought we'd stop by the Sherlock Holmes exhibition.
I am the President of the Boston chapter of his fanclub--
the Sherlock holmies.
No offense, but you sure-lock stupid.
How long is this going to take? I want to go
to Buckingham Palace and see the changing of the guard.
Relax, the queue is moving.
See?
While you stand in the "q," I gotta go "p."
Oh, save my spot.
Or don't. I really don't care.
Man, these guys sure dress up to watch a basketball game.
Oh dear, by "hoops"
you obviously thought I meant that silly game
played by freakishly tall men in baggy bloomers.
Any gentleman would have known
that I meant a rousing game of croquet.
Well, they're obviously not gentlemen.
London, why are you hanging out with this fool?
Because there are only 24 people between him and the throne.
If there's a really big earthquake at Buckingham Palace,
♪ I'm the queen! ♪
- london? - Ooh, coming!
Come on, Marcus, let's beat these brit brats.
Hey, gimme one of those hammer thingies.
It's called a mallet.
Hey, Mr. moseby, what are you doing here?
Oh, I'm a huge mallet head.
You said it, not me.
It means I love croquet.
Good! Can you tell us how to play?
Oh, it's simple! The object of the game is to pass the ball
through a prescribed circuit of 12 hoops and then strike the center peg.
Now if you wish to take a half-bisque, you must wait
for a formal acknowledgment from your opponent.
You know, a wave, a wink, perhaps a tip of the cap.
Stop! Hammer time.
Do I get extra points
for knocking that hat off that old lady?
That was the queen.
- ( Queen shouts ) - Oooh!
Dang, she's got an arm on her.
Nice throw, Lizzie!
Look! Sir Arthur conan Doyle's chair.
Just picture him sitting there, creating Holmes' nemesis--
the evil James moriarty.
And his wastepaper basket.
Just imagine the crumpled pieces of brilliance that were thrown in there.
You want me to take a picture of you next to it?
The garbage can? No, I'm good.
Hey, sorry I'm late.
But I found a place that sells pies with meat in them!
I mean, is it a meal? Is it a dessert?
Do I care? No!
Oh my gosh!
Sir Arthur conan Doyle's first draft
of "the hound of the baskervilles"!
On loan from the queen's private library.
You know, that book happens to be priceless.
So try not to fog up the glass with your American hot-dog breath!
I'll have you know that's british meat-pie breath.
No, he's right. Still a little hot dog mixed in there from breakfast.
Good nose.
I think I got the hang of this.
Ow!
Hey, good hit.
That's a matter of opinion.
Oh, crumpet girl! One crumpet, if you please.
- Oh, thanks! - Ah--
that cost me £1.
Ah, it'll cost me a pound too, but it's worth it.
- Oooh, you should get one! - I--
hey, he hit my ball! He can't do that.
Yes, he can. It's called a roquet.
Well, it's not "rokay" with me.
- Hey!
Wicky, wicky, he's my man!
So seriously, stay away from him.
- Well played, lord wicket. - Thank you, snively.
High-four?
They can't even high-five right.
Yes, we can,
but we prefer to use the fifth digit
to do this.
Well, you got beat like a dusty rug on a clothesline.
This is even more humiliating than the time
my pants fell down when I was performing at Madison square garden.
20,000 people saw your underwear?
If only I had remembered to wear some.
Oh dear.
Well, don't worry,
there's time to catch up in round two tomorrow.
- Except we stink. - To high heaven.
But I can tutor you.
I was once a croquet prodigy.
I was at the junior championships
when there was a tragic accident.
It was a steamy August day in darien, Connecticut.
I put my cheek to the ground so I could see the cut of the grass
when my partner Spencer mistook my shaved head
for a ball.
It is oddly small and shiny.
I was legally dead for seven minutes!
But at least we won the point.
I got you a present from the gift shop.
Aww, thank you. That is so sweet.
Uh, not you.
It's a houndstooth bikini.
Wow, no mystery why you want me to wear that.
Everybody stay calm. No cause for alarm.
We--
sorry about that. Just a temporary power outage.
That was no power outage.
Someone stole the book!
- All right, everyone relax.
Ray emit-majors, inspector, Scotland yard.
And Cody Martin,
president, Boston holmies.
Right, just as soon as you've been cleared by the bobbies,
you are free to leave.
Yeah. Come on.
Go ahead.
Stop it, stop it!
You're dusting for fingerprints with haddonite white?
Anthracene would show up much better on the glass.
I think I know what I'm doing.
I've been with Scotland yard for 25 years,
whereas you're just a kid dressed like a loveseat.
Cody, get back in line!
Just a jiff. The ladies can be so impatient.
With you? I cannot imagine why.
- Come on! - Wait.
- Give me your tweezers. - I don't have tweezers.
I do!
Hey, if I don't pluck these caterpillars every couple hours,
they just go pffft!
Just hand them over.
Aha! A clothing fiber.
With this I can deduce that the culprit is wearing...
Tweed!
They're all wearing tweed. The entire country wears tweed.
Even the doggies wear tweed.
Why don't you do all of england a favor
and go visit France?
And you! You let those kids back in again,
you'll be cleaning up after the queen's puppies.
You'll be on doody duty.
Did you guys hear how loud that door was?
Yes, it's a loud door. Whoo-hoo!
- Let's go. - Wait.
We can't leave.
I now know that the book is still inside that exhibition hall.
How could you be so sure?
Elementary, my dear Woody.
When the lights went out,
- what did you hear? - Screaming,
mostly mine.
Right. What you did not hear
was the sound of a heavy door opening and closing.
Therefore the thief must have hidden the book inside that exhibition hall
intending to retrieve it later. We have to get back in there.
Wait, give me your magnifying glass.
Why, do you see a clue?
No, but you need to get one. Read my lips,
let's go!
Now if a ball has been removed from the game
under the misapprehension that it has been pegged out,
all play is deemed not to have occurred
and all points scored are canceled.
Ahhh!
Wake up!
In approximately six hours
you have to face wicket and snodgrass again. Remember them?
Yeah, how can I forget? One of them stole my girlfriend.
London's not your girlfriend. She barely knows your name.
So? She barely knows her own name.
Which is one of the things I love about her.
Mr. moseby, don't you know any trick shots
that would guarantee we'd win the game?
There is one.
Oh, but it's far too risky for amateurs!
Done right, you put a tremendous amount of spin on the ball
and you can run all of the hoops in a single stroke.
But if you miscalculate by even a centimeter...
You will crush every bone in your foot.
- What's it called? - The bone crusher.
Cool. Let's see it.
All right, make sure
you place your foot no more than a blade's width of grass
away from the ball, putting the weight on the proximal phalanges.
Not the distal phalanges-- proximal phalanges.
Then you rotate your body 60°-- not 59!
60! Then as the mallet comes back,
you release the hip joint,
creating a tremendous amount of torque
and as the mallet makes contact--
owwwww!
Big Ben, that hurts!
Okay, throw a rock in the bushes to distract the Bobby
so we can sneak in there.
Got it.
- Ow!
Okay, the first thing we need to look for is--
something to drink. These chips are salty!
Oooh.
Stop! That's poison.
Suddenly not so thirsty.
Don't put that on the podium.
Not only is that the crime scene,
but it's also a lovely piece of cabinetry.
Wow, look at that scrollwork.
It's hand beveled.
You know so much about so many things
that I don't care about.
Okay, the lights were only out for four seconds.
So the thief couldn't have gotten that far.
I'll close my eyes to simulate darkness and you time me.
Got it.
One, two, three, four.
The book is in the bookcase.
No, the police already searched the bookcase.
That just leaves this bust of sir Arthur conan Doyle.
So the book must be hidden
in what was obviously a worthless hollow fake!
Ooops. Nothing in that head.
Nothing in this one either.
You two again?
Uh, I can explain.
That you broke in here, got your greasy fries
all over the evidence and destroyed a statue?
You have to admit-- he's one heck of a Detective.
Run!
Blue ball kisses off the yellow and through the hoop.
Oh dear, he's about to make another shot.
Put on your helmets and hide your children.
- Yeah yeah yeah. - What did I say about touching me, snively?
Sorry!
- Oh, yes! - Oh, well played, Zachary.
Why, thank you, marcusary.
Ignore them, snively. We're still way ahead
and this is an easy shot.
Hey, watch this.
Loser!
Great shot, wicky! Look how far it went.
It's out of bounds!
I must take her back to my village.
We're badly in need of a new idiot.
Did you hear what he said about my london?
Hey hey hey hey! I'm pretty sure if you hit a lord,
he's allowed to chop off your head.
Let's just beat him.
How can we? We're way behind.
I don't even think it's possible.
Anything is possible.
This is croquet.
Step aside.
He's not!
He can't. He is!
Yes! That's my boy!
I taught him that move.
Big Ben, that hurts!
I taught him that one too.
Well, looks like another unsolvable british mystery...
Like Jack the ripper,
or why we boil our meat.
Hey, not so fast.
That goes with me back to the evidence locker.
- I don't think so. - You two!
Constable, detain these twits.
Uh, no! I know who stole the priceless book.
You two solve the crime?
Please! How absurd.
Is... it?
Yeah, is... it?
Are you trying to look through a lamb chop?
We'll ask the questions here!
For starters... Got any mint jelly?
I got your text! We're getting a private tour of Buckingham Palace?
- How did you swing that? - I haven't yet.
But I'm sure to get an invite
once I recover the queen's missing book.
I'm about to crack this case wide open.
Really, when are you gonna give this up?
Yes, please, when?
As soon as I explain to everyone
why you are the thief.
Him? Why, he's an inspector from Scotland yard.
- I saw his badge. - Fake! He's an imposter.
Why, he's not even british.
You dare question my nationality?
I do! I do dare.
Last night you were complaining about how Woody
was making a mess with his "fries."
Well, he was. We brits are very fastidious.
But a brit would call them chips.
Never fries. I submit that you are belgian,
the same belgian who has outbid me online
for conan Doyle's bedpan.
Belgian? That's preposterous. My name is Ray emit-majors.
So you say.
But if you unscramble those letters,
it spells James moriarty.
Your real name!
No! Don't help, Watson.
James moriarty was Holmes' arch-nemesis.
You are Belgium's number one Sherlock Holmes collector
jean-claude benoit, a.K.A. Waffleman221.
Well, I hate to poke holes in your daft theory,
but I don't have the book. Poke poke poke!
Poke all you want.
But look at this stain on Woody's shirt.
The proof is in the pudding.
Actually that is pudding.
Oh, no no, not that stain.
The wood stain
transferred from your fingernails when you "escorted" us out.
The same wood stain used
to finish this handcrafted podium,
which you've rigged to hold...
The missing book.
Sacre bleu!
And I thought my plan was pure genius.
No, my boyfriend is the genius.
Ah well, at least I don't have to speak
in a ridiculous accent anymore.
Okay, last shot, but we're only one point back.
So one easy hit through the hoop, into the peg and we win.
Yes, then london will drop lord loser
and she and I will ride off into the sunset.
On the way can you drop me off at the hospital?
Miss... miss miss!
Hey hey!
What? I'm merely trying to get the attention of the crumpet girl.
Thank you.
Another mystery solved by the Boston holmies.
In your face, Seattle holmies.
Uh, he's getting away!
- Stop that thief!
Back off or the book gets it in the spine!
We won!
Oh, Marcus, that was brilliant!
Boys, I am so proud of you.
Now if you like, there is room for you on the American croquet team.
Truth be told, there's room for everybody.
Because it's just me and two guys named Spencer in Connecticut.
Oh, here's london with my victory hug.
Marcus, you're a hero!
Yeah, I guess.
Okay, wrinkling the rich girl. Yeah.
London, why are you hugging this loser?
Because he's my friend. And snively told me what you said.
By the way, your village already has an idiot--
it's you!
I'll put you on the croquet team too, my friend.
Good show! I just radioed headquarters.
The queen has been informed that you saved her book
and she's invited you for tea.
Oh, am I allowed to bring a special guest?
What am I gonna wear?
Again, not you.
All right, come on.
This is gonna be the best day of my life!
And it's only going to get better. After we meet the queen,
it's off to the porcelain museum to see Churchill's bathtub.
Oh, good. It's been a long day.
I gotta clean up. Let's go.
Sycn by Hana.Bean www.Addic7ed.com