Let Down Your Hair

Mrs Holmes had bizarre cravings during her pregnancy. Specifically, for the contents of the vegetable patch belonging to the DI next door.

“Delicious!” said Mrs Holmes. “If the baby’s a girl, I’ll call her Lettice. If it’s a boy, he’ll be Kale.”

Could be worse, thought Mr Holmes. She’d called their first child Mycroft.




But the new baby had glorious curls, so they named him Sherlock. He was a bright boy, into everything and soon the DI had to arrest him for interfering in police business.

Sherlock was locked away in a tall tower. As time passed and his abundant hair grew, his unique genius developed. The DI realised he could use Sherlock as a consulting detective and decided never to release him.




One day a hero named John arrived.

“You can’t get in!” yelled down Sherlock.

John beamed. “Someone’s sulky. You should let your hair down a bit.”

“Ah,” said Sherlock.




John climbed up Sherlock’s tresses and clambered into his cell.

“I’ve come to rescue you!” John declared.

Sherlock snorted but seemed pleased.

“We’ll just have to do something about your hair first…” John said.




John shot the lock off the door and they made their escape.

In the cab Sherlock glowered somewhat underneath his elaborate coiffure but John managed to keep his smile hidden.

Sherlock oddly suited a beehive.