*Sherlock belongs to BBC. The Animaniacs belong to Warner Bros.

The author looked upon the group as a doting aunt looks upon her sleeping nieces and nephews, who had retreated into the warm and cozy library. Zinny was drooling on the library desktop, Bookworm sailing in the pool of spittle. Arthur had wrapped himself into a doughnut on the fluffy blue carpet. The three Warners had built a fortress out of books and were napping on a luxurious triple bunk bed. John was stiffly asleep in a wooden desk chair, arms crossed. Sherlock had dozed off in an old aquamarine armchair. His lanky frame draped over it, his legs hanging off one end and his head, off the other, his pale face free of curls and seemingly at peace.

"I'm going to hate myself in the morning..." With an evil smirk, the author whipped out an air horn, blasted it, laughed, and slipped back into her (awesome) lair. Poor little Bookworm experienced a little tsunami in his little sailboat as Zinny shot up...into the ceiling. Log-like John also shot straight up, like a launched pencil.

Sherlock, startled, rolled off the armchair. He lifted his head, questions in his eyes. "Hm... Nothing bad happened – " Zinny, unlike John, was not firmly stuck in the ceiling and promptly landed on Sherlock, who heaved with a great oof! I hate this. So much, the detective rolled his eyes.

Arthur and the Warners calmly yawned and stretched, lazily getting up. "So..." Yakko yawned, "what now?"

Working out the crick in her back Zinny said, "You know what? I'm kind of tired of the explosions, and the dynamite, and the anvils..." The Warners gasped in horror. "I'm not a toon! I love toons, but that doesn't mean I want to be one...I propose that I stay here to um, keep watch over all the stuff. You never know, someone might want um, Elmer's hat! Yeah, lots of people want his hat..." Zinny swayed side to side, like a bamboo stalk in the wind. With a high-pitched whine, Arthur curled up at his master's feet.

Yakko shrugged. They only brought them here to help get Dot's pet back. ("I MISS MY PET!" Shh... Dot... Just wait...) "Sure, why not? And why don't we split up to finish up this quest?"

Dot, still melancholy from the loss of her pet, nodded in agreement. Wakko, tongue sticking out, also agreed. John, somewhat nervous, simply shrugged. In an 'oh-my-gawd, SERIAL KILLER!' manner, Sherlock jumped up and zoomed out of the room, the door now sporting a Sherlock-shaped hole.

Yakko raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'll be heading over to Slappy's with Mr. Excitable over there," he said, jerking a thumb towards the door. "You guys head over with Mr. Earthquake here." Yakko pointed at the shaking John.

Dot tugged on John's sleeve, shaking as well when she made contact with John. "C'mon John, let's go meet Watson!" she said, trying to keep a cheerful demeanor.

"Huh?"

John stared at the plaque on the door. 221B. He looked back at the street sign. Baker Street.

Weird.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Christmas?" Dot tapped her foot impatiently.

"I'm just a little nervous..."

"Of what? It's just you!"

Not knowing whether to be encouraged or indignant, John rapped his knuckles rapidly on the door. With a gentle creak, the door opened and Watson met Watson.

"Hello young man! How can we... young man? Are you okay?" John 's eyes (the younger, skinnier one with Dot) were about to literally pop out of his head. Wakko was about to hit him (and then the Watson with mustache they needed) with his mallet when the strangest thing happened.

John ripped the mustache (apparently fake) off the chubby Watson and ran yelling, "C'mon! Let's go!"

Dot looked at Wakko in wonder. "Did he just...?" Wakko slowly nodded, also in awe. Sharing a grin, Dot and Wakko ran after the Watson they never thought could be toony, no matter how much ink you dunked him in. Flustered and red as a Warner's nose, but knowing he wouldn't be able to catch up with the springier version of himself, de-mustached Watson yelled a few explicit words before slamming the door.

Inside toony 221B Baker Street:

"Watson? Who was at the door? A barber?"

Sherlock looked over at the eldest Warner. "I don't need any help." He continued ahead of the slightly stumped Yakko, coat tails (which Yakko thought to be ridiculous) flapping behind him.

Yakko shook his head, pitying the lanky man. "This is Slappy we're talking about." The Warner jogged up to meet the detective, standing on the Slappy's doorstep.

"So?" he said while pressing the doorbell.

"So...that means you have to go to heck and back before you get my hat." Sherlock looked at the aggravated, somewhat elderly squirrel. "Here, catch!" She tossed the detective a black ball and before Sherlock could analyze, deduce, or react at all, BOOM!

"I told you so!" Yakko yelled from afar. He had seen Slappy's reaction coming and ran for the hills, literally. Yakko was atop a green hill, outside the explosion radius. He quickly ran back. "Lemme handle this."

He knocked politely on the door. But as the door opened, before he could say anything or Slappy could react, Sherlock grabbed the hat and ran. The pair of toons looked at the running Sherlock incredulously. Yakko looked at Slappy. "Aren't you usually prepared for, you know, everything?"

Slappy stared at the disappearing dot of a detective."Never, in a million years, was I expecting that stiff to just steal my hat off my block. I had expected some sort of elaborate plot. Not the most simple, reckless, toony plan!" With a huff, Slappy slammed the door shut.

As Yakko was about to leave, Slappy opened the door once more. "I'm still getting paid for this cameo, right?"