Sherlock almost dropped his petri dish and John almost spilt his mug of hot coffee as a high-pitched scream rang through the air. Both men (gently) dropped what they were doing and sprinted to the source of the scream: Zinny.

"What's wrong? What happened?" John asked as his and Sherlock's heads spun wildly, looking for any source of danger. Arthur was running circles around the room, barking at...air. As usual.

Zinny glanced at them nonchalantly, as if she had just noticed their presence. "Hm? Oh, I was just browsing through Netflix..."

John shook his head. My god, was that a fangirl scream?

"When I found The Animaniacs!" Zinny squirmed as she tried to contain her excitement. It was, John thought.

"The what?" Sherlock and John said simultaneously.

Zinny sighed. She had to explain what the Animaniacs were to almost everyone she met. "The Animaniacs is an American nineties' cartoon. And it's way better than some of the cartoons they come up with today."

"A cartoon? Your scream brought me here for a cartoon? My experiment was almost destroyed for a cartoon?" Sherlock stared at Zinny. John just rolled his eyes. Sherlock and his experiments...

"A good cartoon," she argued.

"Cartoons are just an illogical, random, zany mess," Sherlock stated. Zinny made a frustrated noise.

"That's what you said about Merlin, and who joined me at the convention?" Sherlock's face hardened and slightly darkened. Is Sherlock blushing? Zinny giggled.

"You said you were going to Bart's!" John exclaimed.

"It was for an experiment. On human nature," Sherlock said casually. John and Zinny shot him unbelieving looks. As a result, Sherlock strolled over to the couch and in an irritated tone said, "Oh, just shut up and press play."

John joined the pair on the couch and with a self-satisfied smirk, Zinny pressed the play button. Arthur continued barking.

"Arthur, quiet!" Zinny commanded. Arthur let out a whine before laying on his stomach in defeat. But something's not right...

Suddenly, the room started to shake. Books began to fall of the shelves. The sound of glass breaking reached the trio's ears. "What's going on?" John shouted.

"No clue!" Zinny shouted back. Both were clinging onto the couch like cats on a scratching post.

Sherlock remained calm and silent, and observed the situation. Interesting...

Just as quickly as it started, the shaking stopped. Zinny groaned. In great white letters sprawled across a black background were the words, "Loading failed. Please try again later."

Mrs. Hudson entered the room. "What on earth was that?" she asked, flustered.

"Not sure..." Sherlock muttered.

The doorbell rang. Five pairs of eyes darted toward the direction of the sound. Arthur began to bark again.

"Ooh, maybe it's someone who knows what happened, " Mrs. Hudson said as she walked toward the door. John and Zinny had begun to survey the damage (Sherlock was still sitting on the couch, pondering what had just happened) when Mrs. Hudson shouted, "Boys! Zinny! It's a crate! For you!"

Excited, Sherlock sprinted out of the room, eager to delve into this mystery. He came back with a medium-sized, wooden crate, covered in all sorts of stamps. Burbank, California; Moscow, Russia; New Delhi, India; Zaire? Wasn't that now the Democratic Republic of the Congo?

As they looked over the crate, John asked, "Where do you suppose 'Acme Acres' is?" Zinny's eyes widened but she didn't say anything. Acme Acres was home to the whole Tiny Toons crew. It wasn't supposed to exist.

The crate began to shake. Mrs. Hudson quickly left the room. Arthur's barking escalated. Zinny, John, and Sherlock remained still and silent.

"Hello? Anyone there?" a familiar, girlish voice inquired. Zinny's heart pounded as she recognized the voice.

"Yeah, we could use some help getting out," a somewhat sarcastic, know-it-all voice piped up. Zinny almost felt faint. But instead she confidently strode forward.

"Zinny? What the hell are you doing?" John hissed.

"Shh...Trust me," she soothed. She pointed toward the fire poker. "Hand that to me, will you?"

John cautiously handed it over. Sherlock continued to watch, curiosity peaked as he heard the voices. The room was silent except for Arthur's incessant barking and the creaking and cracking as Zinny opened the crate.

Soon, the crate was fully dismantled, revealing three...things. They weren't exactly dogs. Or cats. Or bunnies, penguins, horses, skunks, dinosaurs, bugs, eels, or seals. But they were cute. They had cherry-tomato red noses and onyx-black eyes that had a mischievous glint. They were covered from head to toe in black and white fur. Sherlock poked one of the things.

"Hey! Watch it!" he exclaimed. This thing was the tallest of the three and had baggy khakis which were held up by a black belt with a yellow buckle.

"Interesting..." Sherlock mumbled as he observed his now inky finger.

"Hellooooooo male nurse!" the shortest one, with a pink skirt and yellow flower between her ears shouted before jumping into the arms of Sherlock and planting kisses all over his face.

"Umm...Dot?" The one with a red cap, blue shirt, and British accent (even though this was probably the first time he set foot on British soil), poked his "lovestruck" sister. "Remember, your pet?"

Dot's eyes transformed from glowing, red hearts back to her black eyes, studded with tears. She jumped out of the utterly confused, ink-covered consulting detective's arms.

She turned toward each human in the room, sniffling. "Mr. Holmes (and friends) we have a case for you."