"Does anyone really think that fighting is a good way to resolve this problem?" Sherlock Holmes sat back in the plush chair, watching the other three.
"No, it is incredibly undignified," Mary Poppins agreed, setting her bag down on the sideboard, and fastening her apron on. "I make it a rule to never take part in such awfulness."
"If you have a better suggestion, I'm all for it," the Doctor said, looking out of the window at the blue police box in the street outside 221B Baker Street. It already had two police officers examining it with interest.
"In that case, I win," Bond drawled, pulling his gun from under his jacket. There was a polite cough from the chair as Holmes moved his arm to reveal his other hand held his own revolver, aimed at Bond.
"You took a hell of a risk. I could have pulled the trigger before I saw that," Bond said, lowering the Walther. He set his back against the wall, out of sight of the door, making sure he could cover all of the others.
"But you'd need these," Mary said sweetly, holding up the bullets. "I tided these earlier. Remarkably unsafe things to leave lying around."
"None the less, I believe we have an impasse: the premise that there can only be one all-powerful Englishman/woman," Sherlock said. "A moment's consideration should resolve this."
"You," he pointed at the Doctor, "are Galifreyan, not English. You may be powerful, but you are disqualified."
"Good. Mind if I hang around to see how this shakes out?" The Doctor grinned, taking the cup of tea Mary offered. "Thank you. Best tea in the galaxy." She smiled, lowering her eyes.
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"Most kind of you, Doctor." She added another sugar lump to his tea. Sherlock coughed politely, turning his attention to Bond.
"You, Mr. Bond, are most certain British, but a Scot is not English," he decreed. "I have been assured of this fact by certain individuals in a Glaswegian dive, quite emphatically."
"How would you know my background?"
"My brother gave me your personnel files," Sherlock said, off-hand as though they weren't classified at the top levels.
"Your brother is going to be in trouble with the British government."
"His brother is the British government," the Doctor added. "Jelly babies, anyone?"
"I never eat sugar before six. A Doctor should know that," Mary reproved. On the mantelpiece the clock hands rotated, and the chimes rang out. She plucked a sweet out of the bag between finger and thumb. "Thank you."
"So, this is going to be Sherlock Holmes' litany of his own greatness then?" Bond said, still leaning against the wall.
"Nonsense," Sherlock scoffed. "As I acknowledge my superior, and you acknowledge yours, neither of us can be all-powerful."
"Your superior?" Bond asked.
"M? Mycroft? Do keep up, double-oh seven." Sherlock's irritated imitation of his brother was bang-on.
"Which leaves it between you and Mary," the Doctor said.
"But I have a superior. Much as I may wish the title, my higher calling is to the truth." Sherlock proffered a long-fingered hand towards Mary Poppins.
"And I," she said, "am practically perfect in every way."
"So, if that is settled, what should we do after tea?" Bond asked, finally sitting down.
"I'd suggest that we consider who would benefit from us fighting each other," the Doctor said. Sherlock nodded.
"I quite agree," the Great Detective replied. "I shall work out who it was, the Doctor will take us there, Bond can deal with the problem, and then Mary, if you will forgive my discourtesy dear lady, can tidy up the loose ends."