Title: Why Johnny Garland never had a real case or Garland Agency Casefiles.

Notes: At the beginning of the game, Johnny mentions he wants a real case; not just rescuing kittens! So my brain got to work wondering exactly why he only got cases for retrieving lost pets...

From down there, the small fluffy thing had looked a terrified, fluffy kitten. Up close, it looked like an escaped demon from hell.

"C'mon here you..." Johnny muttered, inching closer, conscious of the yawning gulf below his sneakers. The tree branch creaked ominously.

"MRRROWWWWW." said the demon cat, claws fully extended. Had there been a hiss at the end?

"Oh, do be careful, Muffins!" Mrs Smith quavered from below. "You'll catch your death in this chill!"

Johnny took a deep breath, reminded himself that Lenny had done something to the jacket to make it really tough, and lunged.

Ten minutes and half a pint of blood later, Muffins was safely in Mrs Smith's arms, and Johnny was wondering if he ought to bring a hockey mask next time. The jacket had resisted Muffins' claws like Lenny had promised, but unfortunately, the jacket also didn't cover other places, like his hands.

"Thank you so much!" Mrs Smith gushed, handing him her handkerchief. "Oh dear, I hope Muffins didn't give you much trouble?"

"No problem at all," Johnny lied, beaming at her. "Garland Agency has a 100 solve rate! If you need anything in future, ma'am, do give us a ring. This is our card."

Mrs Smith took the card, adjusted her glasses and peered at him. She saw a blond, green-eyed, apple-cheeked youth with a few rakish scratches with a charming smile. And he had saved Muffins. Five days later, over tea, half the grannies in New York had his number.

Johnny Garland never knew what hit him.

Case 2

Lenny knew there was trouble whenever the man at the door sized him up in a 'oh shit will he ruin my plan' kind of way, then saw Johnny and practically beamed. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, Lenny knew how to take care of it.

"So, Mr Green, what's your problem?" Johnny asked.

"...Er. Erm." said Mr Green. Johnny's head whipped around suspiciously. No, there was only Lenny, with a surprisingly pleasant smile on his face.

"Mr Green?"

Behind Johnny, Lenny drew one finger across his throat.

"I'm...I'm so very sorry I have the wrongaddressohmy-- just look at the time I have to go!"

"Mr Green!" said Johnny woefully.

"Can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped," said Lenny kindly. "Now, I've got another case here for a lost Mr Wuffles."

Case 3

"But you have to help me," the lady said, with huge, moist eyes and an artfully heaving bosom. Lenny admired the view on general principle, but didn't budge an inch.

"I'm sorry ma'am," Lenny rumbled. "But the master is underaged."

Johnny Garland never knew why he never get a dame sashaying up to his detective office to make trouble like it happened in the films, and Lenny was never going to tell.