A strapping young Scrappy Doo strolled down the streets of London on a brisk autumn Tuesday. He had just faked his death in Miami where he had fallen in the position as 'head honcho' in a drug scheme. He had arrived in London, hoping to hide and start a new life. Having traveled 9 hours on aircraft, he was devastatingly hungry and still in his believable middle-aged women disguise, because most airlines do not allow dogs on board. Spotting The Landmark, a posh bistro on the corner, he tottled off hoping to get a nice meal of Bosintang. Scrappy Doo sat down alone and glanced at the menu but his thoughts were interrupted by a rowdy group of three people, specifically two handsome men.
"Does yours come off too?" he heard a smooth voice, sounding like melted butter on a hot New Zealand day. Scrappy looked up curiously and was amused to see a short hedgehog-like man with a squirrel on his face tackle the tall otter-like "waiter".
Scrappy scoffed in anger, "I didn't come here to be rudely interrupted by two hooligans!" He flipped over the table with much anger, causing everyone to stare and gasp. "I came here to get away from all of the American hustle bustle but you, you ruined my meal and my life!" He started to storm out the door dramatically. Before he got there, a black-hair chef with soft cheeks called out, "We can pay for your meal you know."
"I don't need your pity!" screamed Scrappy, steam practically coming out of his ears.
"Well what do you need?" asked random consumers not important to the story or to life in general.
"Hmmmmmm" mused Scrappy, I don't want your job it's too bland and boring. I don't want your wife she's obviously sleeping with your gardener."
"You can take my kids!" interrupted a voice from the back of the room "They sure aren't going anywhere in life."
"As tempting as that sounds, I've already been nabbed too many times by the cops for illegal child labor", admitted Scrappy wisely. "No. I want something more expendable. I want your lives."
"What!" The whole room gasped again. "You can't do that!"
"Yes I can" Scrappy grinned evilly. He pulled out a watch.
"What is a watch going to do?" questioned the commons.
"Oh its not a watch. It's a BOMB!"
The whole room began to quake.
"You're all going to die! You're all going to die!" Scrappy Doo sang with visible insanity. His paw slowly lowered to the button.
"STOP!" yelled a bold voice sounding like a train barreling down the fields of China. A dashing young Sherlock Holmes appeared before him, his face, even though beat up looked like the face of a cherub.
"And why should I stop?" encountered Scrappy Doo.
"Why? Why? Because I'll give you my first born child", explained Sherlock persuasively.
"I've already explained that I don't want a child" said Scrappy annoyed "why would I want yours?"
"Because I'm Sherlock Holmes, My child would have cheekbones that could cut your skin apart. Would you like to feel them? I can prove it to you." explained Sherlock.
Scrappy lifted his paw from his watch and delicately touched the man's face. Scrappy Doo looked down at his paws. They were bleeding. "So you were telling the truth after all. Very well," Scrappy Doo said with amusement "While I don't want your child, I want you! I will use you and your cheekbones as a weapon."
"You can't take him!" a voice in the back screamed. It was John Watson.
"And why is that?" asked Scrappy.
"Because I love him!" claimed John.
"Wait what?" asked Scrappy.
"No, not really", said John, "I was just trying to distract you, you idiot face".
Just as he wasn't looking, Mary, John's soon to be wife slammed a pan down on Scrappy Doo's hard-to-miss head.
"You will never kill again, my love," Sherlock whispered in Scrappy's ear.
Scrappy's eyes flew open. He grabbed Sherlock's head and started swinging it around trying to cut peoples bodies on his cheekbones. Blood was spilt. Screams were heard from miles away. The chef with soft, lovable cheeks grabbed Scrappy Doo who was violently still swinging Sherlocks head around (which was still attached to his body and was still alive). The chef pulled Scrappy Doo into the street.
"Hey buddy. What's this about. You can't just be doing this" said Scrappy Doo "Why did you pull me off him?"
"Because Honey" explained the chef "You can't go killing my nemesis without me, if you keep this up, I will make your life a living hell"
'"MMMHHHMMMMM" Scrappy replied in a sassy tone "And I am the kind of England"
"well, you could be if you do as I say, I can make all your dreams come true"
"and how would you do that?"
"Because I am James freaking Moriarty bitch"
"what? I am not a female dog? I am not even a dog" Scrappy began to sweat, he pushed his paws into his dress pocket
"well obviously, a damsel like you couldn't be a dog, it's just a saying honey"
"oh" Scrappy Doo said, obviously relieved, that makes sense, of course.
"May I" jim said, holding out his hand
"But of course" Scrappy Doo replied, taking his hand, his paw now clad in a human glove so Jim wouldn't know he was actually a dog.
They gave meaningful looks to one another, looks that promised love and adventure; Looks that bride and groom give to each other on their wedding day. Moriarty and Scrappy began to run off into the dusk of London, preparing to wreak havoc on every orphan and kitten they ran into, like two psychopaths should.
"Jim" Scrappy said "you will love me forever right?"
"Forever" he responded "that is until I kill you"
Scrappy blushed, what a compliment. Even though Moriarty didn't know he was a dog yet, Scrappy just knew that when the time came to tell James, all would be well.
*Crack!fic please don't let this reflect my real writing skills