Sherlock Drumpf was a smart cookie. Orange, with a weird head that looked like a detective’s hat from another universe, he was understandably teased in his childhood. He never let it get him down, though. He always knew what he wanted to do. It was his dream, it was his passion, it was his life. He was going to be the best detective in Gielinor. He would get these damn thieves who plagued his homeland.

The problem was that the Thief lobbyists were powerful. Sherlock Drumpf; however… not so much. He needed a start, a springboard, a foundation to build his detecting business on. His break came on a sunny Wednesday. And people say that nothing good comes on Wednesdays. Sherlock was above such nonsense. He was walking through the port, looking for a purse snatcher to chase or a damsel in distress to save from cutthroats, when he saw a stand announcing to the world that Meg has entered the detective business. Meg’s Cases. Sherlock scoffed, his orange skin getting redder. It was HIS dream. “Trying to be a detective, Meg? We will see about that,” he thought to himself, shaking with rage. He breathed in, held his breath for a second, breathed out, put an almost natural-looking smile on his face and walked up to Meg.

Sherlock Drumpf, the self-proclaimed best detective in Gielinor entered the library and looked around. He noticed that a book on growing carrots was all chewed up and a trail of pieces of paper was leading back to his client’s room. Using his vast skills of observation, Sherlock went back to Clive’s room but didn’t see anything useful. Fortunately, Sir Prysin was shouting something about a fuc… freaking rabbit. Sherlock walked up to him and started asking questions.

Apparently, the knight had just finished polishing his armor when he noticed Bouncy chewing at his boot and had to start over after chasing the pest away. The last he saw the animal, it was heading towards the throne room. Sherlock, feeling like the supreme detective, walked out without thanking the man. Who said great detectives have to be polite? Sherlock was heading towards the throne room in a leisurely pace, when he had a thought. Throne room is where the king spends his time sometimes. The king like eating rabbits. Bouncy headed to the throne room. “Oh damn, what if it’s too late?” he thought. “I can’t let my first case be a failure!”

Sherlock shot forward like a… rabbit on steroids. In a completely unrelated detail, some idiot in a corner started singing “Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na BATMAAAN” for no apparent reason.

Having reached the throne room, Sherlock looked around and noticed that some plates knocked off the table, as if… a rabbit was there recently. Looking around, Detective Drumpf tried to deduce where Bouncy might have went next; however, the problem is that Sherlock didn’t have and skills at all, so he had to rely on blind luck. Finally, after checking the Larder for the second time, Sherlock found the demonic bunny of rs 07 gold because how else could it have evaded him the first time? At least that is what the self-important wannabe orange detective Sherlock Drumpf told himself. Bouncy was returned, Sherlock was victorious, Meg was about to go down. All was well. Except Sherlock’s orange skin and the shape of his head. Those will always be messed up.