Um…just a little story I'm trying out. Please tell me if it's good or not.

"Captain, we need a pay raise," Natalie Teeger said, throwing her hands up in the air.

Monk raised his hand. "Or possibly just—"

Natalie sighed and turned to him. "Mr. Monk, we talked about this. I'm doing the talking."

"Look, Natalie, I'm sorry, but we can't give Monk a pay raise. The department's broke. I can't help you," Leland Stottlemeyer said, turning to leave his office.

"No, no, no," Natalie said, blocking the door. "Please, we'll do anything. Mr. Monk needs that money, and so do I."

Captain Stottlemeyer sighed in exasperation. "Fine. If it means so much to you, I'll look through the cases." He rummaged through some files on his desk. "We only got two cases, and they aren't really homicide. I don't even know why we got them. Case one, a haunted house miles from here on a hill. We already solved that one, actually."

Natalie groaned. "What's the second case?"

"This is a really weird one. Okay, so witnesses say two fifteen year old boys ran over some lunatic in a black bathrobe and a silver mask*, then got off the bike, and looked around with a dumbstruck expression."

"That's not that weird," Natalie said. "We're in San Francisco, crazier things than that happen."

"Wait for it," the Captain said. "Then they asked one of the witnesses the date and what town they were in."

"What happened then?"

"Natalie, please stop interrupting," Leland said. "After they received the date, the one who wasn't driving the motorcycle started screaming at the other one, something about a…" He checked his notes. "A 'Turner'**, whatever that is."

"What happened to the guy in the bathrobe?" Monk asked.

Stottlemeyer shrugged. "He just disappeared."

Monk groaned. "Oh, god, Natalie's going to make me take the case. I don't want to take the case! Oh, she's going to pester me, and blackmail…and okay, fine, I'll do it!"

Natalie smiled and patted Monk on the shoulder. "Thanks, Mr. Monk. Captain, what were their names?"

"Uh…" Captain Stottlemeyer checked the file again. "Their names are…Remus Lupin and James Potter.

"So, do you claim you ran the man over on accident?" Randy Disher asked, Natalie and Monk sitting next to him and the two boys across from him.

"Yes," James Potter said with confidence. "Utterly accidental. We were shocked when it happened. Astonished, even—Ow!"

Remus Lupin had stomped on his foot underneath the table, coughing something into his cup of water.

"And why did you ask the old lady the date?" Randy asked, turning to Remus.

"Who, me? Um…" He fished around for an answer. "Time difference. We're, uh, English, and we just flew a Pam to here in…San Francisco."

"What's a Pam?" Monk asked.

"Oh. A, um…plane. We flew a plane."

James snorted something, making Remus elbow him.

"What happened to the body?" The Lieutenant asked.

James rolled his eyes. "We disposed of it into a barrel of flying monkeys when no one was looking. I have no idea, you dolt!"

Remus gasped. "Don't talk to him like that! I'm sorry," he added, turning to the Randy, Natalie, and Monk, "He's always like that around adults. Or professors. Or any authority figure, really."

"Right," Randy said, flipping over his notebook. "We don't have enough evidence either way, with no body, and the fact that most of the witnesses were a little…odd in the head, so you two are going to follow Monk around until we can prove you're innocent or guilty."

"Excuse me?" Came the simultaneous reply.

"Oh, I said—"

"They know what you said, Randy."

James and Remus were repeatedly banging their heads on the table. "What am I going to tell my parents?" Remus groaned. "This is all your fault, James."

"What am I going to tell Padfoot?" James asked sadly.

"It's strange," Randy whispered to Monk. "This case is so weird. It's almost like they used magic or something."

"Who knows?" Natalie said. "They might've used magic."

"Don't be silly, Natalie," Monk said, chuckling. "There is no such thing as magic."

*A Death Eater, probably trying to recruit them

**James stole a Time Turner, and it got caught on the handle, sending them back in time.