A/N: So sorry for the lateness. This one's a little longer to make up for the fact I've had deadlines and far too much partying occupying my time! Not to worry either, Mr Wonka's not even started fixing that darn machine of his so you've still got several more chapters to look forward to or berate at your leisure. DFQ xxx


As William made his way back to his glass transportation, his Oompa Loompa technician in tow, Ichabod called after him.

"Er, Mr Wonka, you surely don't expect us all to fit in there, do you? How on earth are we supposed to fit a horse in the elevator?"

"My dear, charming constable. There is no object in the world I could not fit in my elevator if the feeling takes me."

"So we are bringing the animal in there?"

"Of course not!" William snapped as he stepped inside the lift. "Can you imagine how unsanitary that would be? Ew. The horseman can make his way back the way he came in."

The character in question took this opportunity to give the chocolatier a two-fingered gesture. Then he stomped off to fetch his steed.

Edward waddled into the elevator and took up his position of hooking his blades around the handrail. The Oompa Loompa tugged at Mr Wonka's trouser leg.

"What?" said William, his attention caught. "Oh yeah. Go tell Ammunitions to put themselves on standby, 'kay? Well done today. You might wanna inform people about the incident with the other elevator too. I'll send you a Pamphlet 40 later, 'kay?"

The little man's eyes bulged. He squeaked excitedly and bolted out of the elevator, almost tripping the approaching constable.

"Pamphlet 40?" Edward inquired.

Wonka nodded.

"It's sorta my Loompian medal for bravery. That, and he gets a cocoa bean this big." He held out his arms to about the width of the elevator itself.

Ichabod was just about to enter when William's cane barred across the doorway. He looked up at the chocolatier quizzically.

"But you, Mr Crane sir," Wonka continued, "don't hold my support when it comes down to courage. I suggest you hitch a ride with your headless pal."

Jack grinned. He walked up and slapped the speechless constable roughly on the back.

"That is a wonderful suggestion, Mr Wonka," he sniggered. "Chin up, Bodders. He won't bite."

Crane glared at the pirate.

"You don't even know what the elevator is or what it does," he hissed.

"True," Jack replied. "But seeing as you're not allowed in it, I'm very much inclined. Excuse me."

Sparrow ducked under the cane barrier into the elevator and spun to wave at the fuming constable.

"You say it's unsanitary to put a horse in there, and yet you allow him to get in?" Ichabod spluttered, jabbing a finger towards Jack.

"See you in the Chocolate Room, sir," William said firmly.

Jack was in a fit of giggles.

"Mr Sparrow, I demand that you tell them!" Crane shouted.

"Tell them what?" the pirate asked innocently.

"Why I left you alone with the horseman! You're not human!"

Jack gasped in mock pain.

"Why constable, I know we've 'ad our spats but there's no need for name-calling."

The elevator doors closed and at once the glass muffled what could quite possibly have been a stream of very unprofessional curses coming from Ichabod's mouth. All inside the elevator watched as the horseman galloped up behind the hapless detective, scooped him up with ease and deposited him onto the back of the horse.

Daredevil reared in style. The terrified Constable Crane wrapped his arms around the headless horseman's waist and shut his eyes. Less than a moment later they had dashed from the room.

"So," said Jack, the stupid grin still pasting his face. "What does this thing do then?"

William casually rested a gloved hand on the rail with a quiet squeak.

"Hold on to your hats."

He pressed the button marked 'Chocolate Room'.

"I miss my 'at," the pirate mumbled to no one in particular.

The lift's momentum threw him to the floor.


At last the elevator ceased its rollercoaster-meets-pinball journey. The doors opened and the pirate fell out on his face.

"Wasn't that neat?" Mr Wonka exclaimed.

Jack groaned and staggered upright.

"I preferred the boat."

"Huh. I would've thought with a name like yours you'd take to flying like a, well, like a – bird."

"As always your wit astounds me, Mr Wonka," Sparrow said amiably. "Jester fit for a queen, you are."

William pouted.

"Okay I admit she still spins like a Tardis but she gets me around."

Seeing that the popular culture reference was lost on someone a couple of centuries behind, Wonka coughed and led the way. There came the sound of rushing chocolate up ahead.

The party emerged from behind the vast waterfall of the Chocolate Room. They clambered across the toffee rocks and onto the sugar meadow to find the other half of their group waiting.

The headless spirit was trying to convince his horse to stop eating the grass whilst the trembling constable was sitting alongside an enormous cardboard box, listening to its contents. Upon the side was stamped: 'Tokyo'.

"Oh thank heavens," cried Mr Wonka. "It's arrived. Mr Edward sir, if you wouldn't mind? Be very careful."

Happy to help, Edward gently sliced the lid of the box, permitting the chocolatier to open it and tip the thing over. A heap of Wonka bars scattered out along with a man-sized, wriggling parcel. Mr Wonka peeled open the wrapper about the struggling mass's top to reveal the face of Mr Rainey.

"What in the name of (censored obscenity) happened?" Mort asked, gasping air. His voice was no longer that of the slow Mississippian. He looked around at the nervous faces. "Great. Still hallucinating it seems."

Jack grumbled.

"Don't start that again. Unless you can 'allucinate something large and preferably heavy I can 'it you with."

"Fine," Mort sighed. He looked across at his body bound up in silver foil. "Would you guys-?"

Everyone shouted: "No!"

Ichabod moved to pick up something he'd seen in the pile of Wonka bars. It was Mort's black ten-gallon, still speckled with chocolate.

"What's this?"

"Oh, that's Mr Rainey's hat," William replied. "It musta landed in the river with him when he arrived, then I guess he fished it out later."

Crane whined, "Will I ever get to do any detective work around here?"

Mort frowned at the item in constable's hands.

"That's not my hat," he said.

"Are you sure?" Ichabod asked, for want of something better to say.

"I'm damn sure that's not my hat!" Mr Rainey growled with a little too much anger.

"Will you all shut up about hats?" Jack bellowed bitterly.

Mr Wonka sighed. Of course, he knew it wasn't Mort's hat, for Mr Rainey only wore it when the Shooter personality was in control. He took the hat from Ichabod and tossed it aside.

"People! I promised we'd eat, so go on. Scoot! Eat! There's candy bars here, heck there's a whole room at your disposal, so get to it and we can sooner get workin' on how to get you all home."

His audience gave a series of blank stares, which were mostly replaced with childish smiles. Those able to move their limbs dashed off to gather food supplies.

Mort, however, squinted through his grubby spectacles at the chocolatier from his position on the floor.

"Don't I get to eat anything?" he questioned shrewdly.

William tore off the wrappers from a Whipple Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight bar and shoved the slab of chocolate into the writer's mouth. That done, he strode off in search of his own feast.