This chapter could not have been done without a band of faithful buddies.

Here's to my beta, KingdomofThomond, who made the first chapter a million times better. I'd learned my flowing-lesson from then on.
Secondly, thank you to my dear Raven, who called me a traitor for posting a fanfiction before she knew about it. Wowlo. You're a great Oerson.
ChaCha, my dear...just...just let me love you. (And maybe other illegal things.)
And, last but not least, thanks to my reviewers Jinny (whom this chapter is dedicated to because I can), Mattsykun (please granted, dear sir), Siberian Tiger (meow meow), a very giggly anon, and my ever-surprised Rarshy.

Thanks, people! Have fun.

After using a little revision fast-forward, Scout and Pyro huddled together outside the swinging doors of the medical office, knowing that somewhere in there was a Medic, and somewhere in there also was...

A hat.

And they needed that hat, or else the mystery of why Sniper was a liar would never be solved.

"Now ya gotta be super-dee-duper quiet if ya wanna get it," whispered Scout, looking over to his masked friend in hoped allegiance. "A'ight? Repeat aftah me. Super."

"Shmprh."

"Dee-duper."

"Dmh-dhmprh."

"Quiet."

"Qumth."

With that little audible promise, Scout slowly creaked open the door and stuck his head through the little gap that was formed. To their surprise, it was completely dark. The crack of light from the hallway made a white stripe on the tile floor. Lack of German paper-scribbling due to the empty table meant only one thing; Medic was most likely...

Somewhere else.

Sneaking still had to be done for the fun of it, however.

Pyro nudged the Bostonian with a rubbery elbow. "Msh thmm cmmsht clmmr?"

"Uh-huh." Scout fully opened the door and tiptoed down onto the floor with sneaky sneakers. "Coast is clear, pally."

The not-stealthy-but-trying pair stuck to the wall in the dark, with the only sound being the occasional dove's coo-like snore and – to Scout's annoyance – worried huffs from Pyro's mask.

Scout looked over in the dark with a frown. "Stop breathin' so freakin' loud!" he hissed.

Pyro angrily poked him in the ribs.

"YOWCH!" screamed Scout.

"SHMM MMP!"

Scout's volume dropped back to a zero-point-one. "Up yours, wacko."

They crept through the room on the tips of their toes like prehistoric ballerinas, ruining their eyesight in the lack of lighted lamps. Soon enough Pyro scampered over somewhere and the sound of felt dropping upon rubber sealed the first mission. A little song rang out as the hat appeared in Pyro's gloves; "Tmmh-dmmh!"

"YAY!" screamed Scout, achievement unlocked. "WE DID IT, PALLY! SURE GOOD THING DOC ISN'T HERE, BECAUSE THEN HE'D FIND OUT WE STOLED HIS HAT. I SURE AM GLAD. HE'S DUMB AN' OLD."

Suddenly, lights flooded the room and a torrent of doves flapped their wings and cooed off-n'-away at the sudden awakening. "Hallo? Who's in heah?" asked a familiar German voice from afar. Soon enough Medic's boot clacks neared over to them and he stood before the detectives with a smirk of confusion.

"Oh, it's just za two team idiots." Medic's nose twitched up in a skeptical grimace. "Yah should haf at least turned on za lights or somezing."

Scout and Pyro had no idea how to respond, so they didn't.

Medic looked over at Pyro with a squint. Seconds later speckled-gray eyebrows shot up in unison. "Ach, mein hat is in you'ah hands, Pyro. Vhat's za story?"

Pyro swerved the mask down as if to check if the hat had disappeared by now, but, sadly enough, it remained intact. "MMNH, FMMK!"

Scout thought incredibly fast, leaping in front of his pal in hopes of saving Pyro's life. Words flew out of his mouth at the rate of the porous sweat glands that made a miniature sprinkler out of his forehead. "WHAT HAT? I DON'T KNOW ANY HAT! I SWEAR ON JESUS! I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE DID! LEAVE US ALONE! EXPLAIN WHAT WE DID. WHAT GIVES, MAN? I AIN'T EVEN YER FRIEND, YA KNOW DAT? SCREW OFF! YER JUST GRUMPY 'CAUSE YER OLD AND A NERD!"

Suddenly the situation seemed increasingly clear. Medic sighed, rolling his eyes at the silly REDs. "Seriouzly. If you vanted to borrow za hat you could haf just asked."

This required a tiny edit of their current scenario. Take two – Scout had straightened his posture and coughed twice in introductory conduct; "Yo, Medic. How's it goin'? Good weather over here, 'uh. I like yer glasses."

Scout smiled. "So, fag, can we borrow your fuckin' hat or not?"

Politeness fell aside. Instead a very sarcastic remark at the lack of valid syntax gushed through Medic's grin. "Hmm, I don't know, Herr Scout." He leaned over playfully like a schoolteacher, arms crossed behind his back. Eyes squinted into slits before the elongated grammar notice; "Caaaaaaan you?"

Sometimes it'll leave everyone better off if one chooses not to attempt educating a Bostonian with daddy issues. Scout met eyes with Medic, face casual as if he had an honest reply. Scout was a diss-dictionary, so it wasn't a good idea to fool around with the master."I dunno if I can, Doc. But I know I can KICK YOU IN DA BALLS SO HARD DEY'LL POP OUTTA YER FUCKIN' MOUTH, YOU UGLY HOEBAG."

"Zat's not physically possible," murmured Medic under his breath, his yet-to-be-redeemed-again medical license proving he was aware of all the things one could accomplish with scrota. He sniffed, raising a red rubber glove to straighten the crooked glasses perched upon his nose. "But you may borrow mein hat."

He then strutted out of his office to leave the two alone with the deerstalker on the marble counter-top that seemed to be of great interest to them. "Dummkopfs!" The distant sound of doors slamming against each other had made Medic's haughtiness quite apparent.

Pyro threw the Private Eye atop the mask. Though scarcely intelligible, the muffled voice called behind the closed door; "Thmmksh, Mdhmc!"

"Yo, yo, yo, time out!" cried Scout, turning to his fiery friend. "I'm Sherlick!"

"Mnh-mnh!" disagreed the smarter of the two. "Yhmm're Wtshmn!"

"Suck a dick, Py-face!" retorted Scout in the most immature way possible. "I should be Sherlick 'cause you didn't even watch the movie, and also Watsin is always fatter than Homes. You can even look it up if you want, 'cause I bet you Watsin is always a fatty-fat fat-ball all ovah da place."

Pyro grunted and handed over the hat. "Whmthvhrh."

Detective Scout adjusted the hat with a grin, proud that he was now a true Englishman. "Yeah, well, I have a hat that's sorta like Watsin-style and you can wear it if you want," assured Scout. "Don't be a hater, dude."

Pyro's mask hung low. The poor thing.

Scout frowned. "Fuckin' get over it already."

And so it was. "HMM-RMMH FMRH HMTSH!" cheered Pyro, skipping out of the office to receive a very-own Watson hat.