By Dr. Oddson
Contributor to the JLP
DOWNTOWN TRANSYL-VEIN-IA -- Sherlock Bones Investigations has been unfairly accused of investigating with integrity. According to sources, there is absolutely no proof of this whatsoever.
Mr. Bones has operated an illegitimate, unsuccessful business for over 100 years, according to several clients, friends and, of course, his own mother.
“I’ve known Bones all his life,” his mom said. “Believe me. He’s a hack. He couldn’t crack his knuckles let alone a case.”
For those reading this who are not of the skeleton kind, let it be known that a skeleton’s primary purpose is to crack bones in a slow, methodical manner so as to scare the pants off others. According to his mother, Bones keeps his limbs crisp and polished at all times and wouldn’t even be physically able to crack his knuckles . . .
This is beside the point. The point, mind you, is that Sherlock Bones has never been accused of possessing powers of keen observation, uncanny memory or spot-on logic and deductions to do any good. He would hurt a fly, though he wouldn’t know it.
“If you remember the Case of the Ant Hill Beneath Our Feet,” said a prominent member of Scotland Yard who wishes to remain nameless since his opinion differs from his superiors, “Mr. Bones was investigating the very building standing atop the hill. If the little details are important to an inspector with integrity, then the ants crawling all over his bony bottoms would’ve been a good clue to ponder.”
But Bones let the evil ants take over the place and devour the 30 or so souls within, and he was a hero for the horror he couldn’t detect.
Nevertheless, Downtown Transyl-vein-ia officials claim he saved a group of hideous monsters who were recently dining out and about to toss back some champagne tainted with poisonous poison.
“It wasn’t even the fun poison,” said Mrs. Dudson, Bones’ landlady who often “spices” up Bones’ tea with a little something-rather, and who knows the difference between poisonous poison and mere dangerous poison. “Yes, those drinks would’ve caused ultimate and glorious doom to the monsters at the table had it not been for Bones’ rather pleasant violin music, which caused the group to shriek. But he had no way of knowing what they were about to drink and that he caused them to skip the sip.
“No, Bones just went on playing that beautiful violin,” Dudson said, “and the group couldn’t take it anymore, so they ended the meeting and adjourned, unbeknownst to him. However, had Bones had any integrity, he would’ve celebrated his victory for having saved the group from their final demise -- he’s such a pompous ass -- and the authorities would’ve taken him away and locked him up right then and there for diverting perfectly good terror. These ridiculous allegations of integrity hold no truth at all.”
Your humble author can attest to this, as I am closest to Mr. Bones. I assure you that Det. Sherlock Bones obtained no data from his proximity in this recent Case of the Poisonous Poison That Wasn’t Had. Sherlock Bones was none the wiser. His mind, in other words, is elementary, my dear reader. Judge him accordingly.