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The Three Brothers Holmes and the Big BAMF John

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Once upon a time there were three brothers by the name of Holmes. The first brother, Mycroft, was obsessed with keeping his fine clothes dry. He always carried an umbrella with him, on the off chance it might rain. The second brother, Sherrinford, was obsessed with the letter Q. He spent his days eating quince, playing quoits, and dancing the quadrille. The third brother, Sherlock, was obsessed with skulls. He could never resist deducing what had caused their former owners’ demise.

One day, Mummy Holmes gathered Mycroft, Sherrinford, and Sherlock together and announced, “The time has come for you to seek your fortunes. The world is filled with wonders for you to discover, my sons. But remember to beware of the Big BAMF John.”

The three brothers bid their mother goodbye and set off together through the woods. They walked, and walked, and walked, until they came to a meadow strewn with umbrellas.

“What a perfect spot,” said Mycroft. “This is where I’ll build my house.”

Sherrinford and Sherlock bid their brother goodbye and set off together through the woods. They walked, and walked, and walked, until they came to a meadow strewn with quilts, quail feathers, and porcupine quills.

“What a perfect spot,” said Sherrinford. “This is where I’ll build my house.”

Sherlock bid his brother goodbye and set off alone through the woods. He walked, and walked, and walked, until he came to a meadow strewn with skulls.

“What a perfect spot,” Sherlock said to himself. “This is where I’ll build my house.”

The three Holmes brothers set to work building their new homes. Mycroft built himself a house of umbrellas, so he’d never have to worry about getting his pinstriped suits wet. Sherrinford built himself a house of quilts and quail feathers, stitched together with porcupine quills, to create a blanket fort fit for a queen. And Sherlock built himself a house of skulls, so he’d always have someone to talk to who wouldn’t object to his deductions.

It wasn’t long before the Big BAMF John came knocking at the house of umbrellas.

“Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, let come me in,” he called.

But Mycroft, mindful of his mother’s warning, replied, “Not by the flair of my pinny, pin, pin.”

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!”

The Big BAMF John huffed, and he puffed, and he blew so hard the umbrellas flew into the air, with Mycroft clutching onto the largest of them for dear life.

Mycroft and his umbrella sailed through the sky, on and on and on, until finally he landed in a yard in Scotland. A Silver Fox was waiting to greet him. Mycroft gazed at the Silver Fox in wonder.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“My croft,” answered the Silver Fox.

“I do believe I’ve found my fortune,” said Mycroft.

“As have I,” said the Silver Fox.

And they lived happily ever after.

Meanwhile, the Big BAMF John came knocking at the house of quilts.

“Sherrinford Holmes, Sherrinford Holmes, let come me in,” he called.

But Sherrinford, mindful of his mother’s warning, replied, “Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin.”

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!”

The Big BAMF John huffed, and he puffed, and he blew so hard the quilts flew into the air, with Sherrinford clutching onto the largest of them for dear life.

Sherrinford and his quilt floated through the sky, for seven days and seven nights, over the seven seas, until finally he landed in a most extraordinary place, presided over by a most extraordinary man.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

“My name is Sherrinford, but you can call me Q.”

“Pleased to meet you, Q. I’m the Outstanding Official of the Seven Wonders of the World — but you can call me Double O Seven.”

“I do believe I’ve found my fortune,” said Q.

“As have I,” said 007.

And they lived happily ever after.

Meanwhile, the Big BAMF John came knocking at the house of skulls.

“Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, let come me in,” he called.

But Sherlock, mindful of his mother’s warning, replied, “Not by the bare of my skinny, skin, skin.”

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!”

The Big BAMF John huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and he puffed, but his breath simply whooshed through the skulls, in one ear hole and out the other, without disturbing the house at all.

“You may as well give up,” said Sherlock. “These skulls have even less between their ears than most living people, and that’s saying something, since most people are idiots.”

“True,” said the Big BAMF John. “But I’m not most people. If you let me come in your house, I’ll make sure you come in your house, as well.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sherlock.

“If I can’t blow your house in, perhaps you’ll permit me to blow you in your house.”

Sherlock opened his door. He gazed in wonder at the Big BAMF John.

“I do believe I’ve found my fortune,” said Sherlock.

“As have I,” said the Big BAMF John.

And they lived happily ever after.

THE END