x.x…okay, I assure you that this is more or less fiction, although it is based on a dream I had…well..what do you call it when you dream, but you're not asleep? Not a daydream…uh..hallucination? -.-'' My advice? Don't boycott sleep unless you're prepared for something along the lines of this. This isn't really meant to be funny…just slightly amusing. The hokey pokey part must have come from this other crossover I read…I really can't remember the name, but I remember something about a hokey pokey…x.x…my dreams are so weird.

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~Something Strange~

It was dark. My room. Simple enough: a bed, dresser, desk. Dozens of shelves, laden with memories and sentimental junk. An old white wicker chair with an equally useless footrest; an old cupboard crammed with notebooks. Every inch of free space covered with paper and dirty socks; blankets. Okay..maybe it really wasn't that simple…but that's beside the point. It was the night that I truly lost it (and it wouldn't be the last)

It had all started the night before last, when I decided (of all possible things) simply not sleep anymore. I figured I could beat Napoleon's record of two days, no sweat. Don't ask why, because I won't be able to give you a satisfying answer. I just wanted to see if I could do it. Sitting up in bed, I turned the radio on (something loud and obnoxious, if I remember correctly). That was pretty much it for the first hour or so. I read a little, but my arms got tired quickly from holding the book up. Putting it down, I realized someone was sitting in my wicker chair…my previously-thought-useless wicker chair.

He was reading a paper. And smoking a goddamn pipe.

"Who the hell are you?!" I demanded "Can't you tell I'm trying to breathe here?" What kind of weirdo could sneak into an occupied room without using the door? He put down the paper, and I shuddered.

"And why do you feel the need to ask? You know exactly who I am."

"Yeah…" I said faintly, blinking a few times. "You're Sherlock Holmes." I sat up from my slouch, looking around. When I looked back, there was another man standing by the wicker chair. He smiled, giving a jerky bow.

"Doctor Johnathan Watson at your service."

…damn. I wanted these people OUT OF MY ROOM. I didn't care if they were literary legends, not at the moment. The fact that they were there just probably meant that I was asleep, and they were keeping me from showing Napoleon how it was really done. I opened my mouth to say so, but all that came out was a maniacal laugh.

"That's great, this is really great. Because I could really use a psych exam, seriously." Maybe he could find me officially insane, and then they'd go away for fear of…of…I dunno, catching some disease that would turn them into fluffy little piggies, I dunno.

"No, you're as sane as sane." Holmes began to fold the paper, acting like sitting in the bedroom of a teenage train wreck in the middle of the night was something he did on a regular basis. "By choosing to reject sleep, your brain is overworked, thus warping us into your reality."

…uh HUH…

"So you're real." I crossed my arms, flicking a bit of paper at Watson. It bounced off, and he turned around to see what had hit him. I shrugged, jerking my head towards Holmes. I turned down the radio, finally swinging my legs out of bed. Stupid song, anyhow. "Hm…" I reached out to touch the fabric of Holmes' coat. It was rough and scratchy…but real. "Real…" I repeated, not knowing whether to be scared out of my mind or hysterical with laughter. I settled for a failing impassiveness. Either way, it was pretty cool.

"Yeeeees…hehehehee…" A creature scampered out from under my bed, twining briefly around my legs before dashing into my closet. I yelped, jerking my legs back into bed. Creature from the black lagoon? It poked its head out, grinning. I grinned back. Cheshire Cat…duh, self. He purred, leaping on top of my dresser to watch the proceedings, eerie grin never fading.

I turned back to Holmes…this was an opportunity that I was not going to pass up. "You play chess?"

Half an hour later, we were deep into chess combat. I could never find anyone to play with me. I'd like to say it's because they didn't want to lose…but they were only too lazy or didn't know how to play. I was about as chessfully adept as a wedge of cheese…well, an experienced wedge of cheese that knew how to play chess and had even won a few times.

Watson had found some of my old encyclopedias (specifically the 'C' and 'R' volumes) and was reading avidly.

"Hah!" I moved my queen two spaces forwards. "Check…mate! …I think."

"No, that's -" I hear no more…something excessively heavy had dropped on my head. I was out.

"You IDIOTS!" I heard an awful screeching voice upon awakening. "Cronc! WHY did you drop the rock ON HER HEAD?!"

Wha? I opened on eye; seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on my chest, peering down at me with that freaky grin I yelled and pushed him away. Stupid cat. Looking behind me, I saw the ancient woman that had just joined our little ensemble. And her muscled assistant.

"You're awake! Good. Because I found this really neat rock on the way over, and I, uh, thought you'd like it."

…okay. So apparently this world wasn't limited to those from literary works. The two very cartoonish characters stood there, looking very much out of place…but like they belonged at the same time. Cronc. And Yzma. I rubbed my temples…this night was getting worse very quickly…or better. Whichever way I looked at it, it was one extreme or the other.

I attempted to take the huge rock, but dropped it. That thing was heavy, like it was made of lead or something. "Er…thanks, dude."

"I told him we didn't have time for such nonsense, but -"

"My dear woman, please refrain from speaking." Holmes rubbed his head in an almost perfect imitation of me. "It sounds most horrid."

Before Yzma could reply, a loud hiss issued from the Cheshire Cat's new hiding place. He leapt out of the shadows, clawing madly at Watson's face.

"No! Bad cat!" In an act of pure adrenaline I picked up the huge rock, throwing it at the crazed beast. …wow.

"That was…" Yzma began.

"Most effective." Watson gasped, wiping blood off his forehead. "Demented little animal."

The Cheshire was gone; disappeared. A loud crash from my closet drew all focus. A nervous-looking blonde elf rushed out, slamming the closet's door behind him. "Oh good…they haven't been here yet?"

"Who?" I asked.

"No, no…do not speak their name.."

…dude. "Sure thing, Legolas."

"Legolas?! WHERE???" I heard a giddy scream from inside the closet. Legolas gave us a panicked look, all alone in his struggle to keep the closet door shut. The strength of his assaulters seemed to be too much, however, for the next moment he was thrown backwards as the door burst open, letting a plethora of rabid fangirls stampede into the room.

I dove under the blankets as they surrounded the elf, shaking in terror.

"Halt!" An axe cleaved the head clean off of the lead fangirl, then vanished. "It is commanded by the armies of Rohan." ..a pause. "And Gondor, I suppose."

The fangirls disappated with angry hisses, leaving Legolas very nearly dead. No one spoke, or even moved.

"Er…hello?" I asked Watson. "What's with them?"

"We're here because of you." He said. "Armies take orders. They need instructions."

I thought quickly. Stupid armies. "Ah..you all…armies…do the hokey pokey!" No need to mention Middle Earth had never heard of the Hokey Pokey before. But…

"..you do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around…that's what it's all about!"

"Y'know…" Cronc grinned. "The hokey pokey really isn't what it's all about."

I rolled my eyes, but continued to watch. A thousand grown men, armed with deadly weaponry, armored, some on horseback…all hokey pokey-ing their hearts out for a train wreck teenager. It was pretty cool…

But then I saw the sun come up.

"Get UP! SCHOOL!" My tyrant mother banged on the door. I looked at everyone, torn.

"Well? Let's go!" I grinned.

So we lived insanely after ever (and more or less happily). And I never slept again.