Blog post

Sherlock Drumpf – The Orange Detective of Gielinor

May 2016

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.

“Why, hello there! Welcome to Meg’s Cases. Can I help you with something?” Meg asked, smiling as if Sherlock Drumpf was her favorite person in the world. The wannabe detective wasn’t fooled, though.
“Not really, Ms. Meg. I can help you, though,” he answered. He tried to smile but it wasn’t sincere. Meg didn’t seem to care.
“How?”
“I always wanted to be a detective and you have an agency. I would like to work for you, Meg.”
“Sure, the more the merrier! What’s your name?” Sherlock smiled. His smile was so wide you could see almost all of his teeth. His eyes, however, were cold as ice.
“I’m Sherlock Drumpf.”
“That’s a cool name! Look, I have this case…”
“Excellent,” said Drumpf menacingly, leaning forward, touching the tips of his fingers to each other. Nobody knows how, but a weird song never heard in Gielinor before started playing in the background. If the land had cartoons, it would have been a perfect theme song. Meg wasn’t a very good detective, she didn’t notice anything wrong.
Meg grinned from ear to ear. “So, you will help, Mr. Drumpf?”
“Okay,” Drumpf answered blankly.
“You’re a lifesaver! You see, there’s this guy Clive in Varrock. He lost his bunny Bouncy. If you could find him for me, I would be forever grateful.”

This was not how Sherlock hoped for his career to start, but a break is a break. He was determined to wheedle his way into Meg’s business and then take it for himself. Drumpf’s cases sounded so much better anyway, he thought. First step in his master plan – go to Varrock, find the rabbit, take the credit. Easy peasy.

Using the skills trained by running from orange-hating heathen bullies, Sherlock reached Varrock in no time and started the search for the Bouncy. On the lookout for the long-eared menace, he walked all over the city. His superior detecting skills having failed him, Sherlock finally decided to do what he should have done in the beginning and talk to the client, Clive. The room he found Clive in was boring and small, with cream-colored walls and a small window.

“Hello. Meg send me to look for your missing bunny.”
“Finally, I’m really worried,” fretted Clive.
“Why? Won’t he just come back when he’s hungry?”
“He might but the King really likes eating rabbits. He will eat Bouncy for sure if he catches him!”
“I haven’t ate a rabbit in a while… No! Bad Sherlock! Bad!” he thought.
“Do you have any clues you could give me?” Sherlock asked.
“Well… Clive does like chewing on paper. You might want to start in the library.
“Hooray,” said Sherlock with no enthusiasm at all. Seriously, missing rabbits were soo beneath him, he thought. “I will return your pet as soon as possible, don’t worry.”

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 DOOM 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.