One more enormous shout-out to every reviewer. Keep them coming, guys!
Final chapter…. (Everybody, look sad for me.)

Chapter IV

In the same instant as Jim Moriarty's unexpected outburst, each set of Holmes and Watson bolted forward. The men who had entered with Moriarty, having been sufficiently distracted with his blood-curdling shriek, had little chance of composing themselves before ten men—ten men trained, more by experience than instruction, to dismantle gangs of eight men between each pair of them—attacked without mercy.

Holmes—the real Holmes, that is, according to him—hardly counted to six seconds before he and Watson had the tallest man crumpled into a heap on the carpet; though he was not one for unwarranted pride, he could not help feeling gratified with the speed with which he and Watson had learnt to predict one another's movements in a scuffle such as this. He looked around, preparing for whoever may threaten next, but was slightly bemused to see that, apparently, they were not the only represented agency which had its hand in rows. The disheveled-looking Holmes and his sword-plying Watson seemed particularly competent, for four of the men lay on the ground nearest them.

Then, suddenly, all was quiet, and Moriarty and his gang were gone.

Each Holmes and Watson looked at one another, and then at Rin.

She smirked.

"I'm the writer, remember?"

And then she snapped her fingers and a dozen llamas appeared. A black-and-white one appeared startled at seeing the black-and-white Holmes suddenly inches away from its long and furry face, as did the black-and-white Holmes. The Watson with the thick, blonde hair (5) cried out as one pulled the notebook from his back pocket. She clapped her hands and they disappeared again.

"Miss Rin, really," admonished Watson from Holmes' right, though he sounded partially entertained.

"Just proving a point," she replied innocently.

Holmes—all of them—glared, and the Watsons shook their heads with tolerant amusement.

"But," John took a moment to recover himself, "what distracted Moriarty?"

A grin spread across Rin's face, and she opened her mouth to answer when another, slightly smaller, and much squeakier voice declared,

"Hallo, up there, good sir!"

And all pairs of eyes looked directly at John's scuffed shoes, to where a rather superior-looking mouse in a tweed coat was tugging on his jeans.

"What the devil…!" cried out the black-and-white Watson.

"Good lord, that is quite distinctive," asserted the scruffy Holmes, as his open-mouthed Watson leant over his shoulder.

"Amazing, simply amazing!" proclaimed the black-and-white Holmes, eyes glowing with childlike wonder.

Sherlock's expression did not alter, but his piercing eyes widened with unspoken astonishment. John's mouth fell open with the shock.

Holmes sighed long-sufferingly, and he looked to his Watson, who was looking at him with an expression of entire wonderment and unspoken hilarity.

It is a notable fact that the sharp-voiced Holmes and his blonde Watson showed no surprise whatever at the sight of the pair of educated rodents. (9)

"You're the one…?" stammered the blonde Watson, as he put away his sword-cane. (6)

"Yes," replied the articulate and apparently refined creature, as his round companion—also a mouse—barely caught the long pin he tossed haphazardly over his shoulder. "Sherringford Basil, at your service. And you are?" (10)

"Sherlock Holmes," said the black-and-white Holmes.

"Sherlock Holmes," said the scruffy Holmes.

"Sherlock Holmes," said Sherlock.

"Sherlock Holmes," said Holmes.

"We've met previously," said the sharp-voiced Holmes.

Basil looked at each face closely, with one furry brow raised.

"You must be Watson, then," said the other mouse politely, motioning with slight puzzlement to each John Watson.

"Yes," said the sharp-voiced Holmes' Watson with a smile.

"Cute, aren't they?" volunteered Rin, leaning down and lifting each small mammal into her hands.

Holmes looked at her, then at Basil, then at each of the other Holmeses.

"I am going to my bed," he said wearily. "Good-night to you all. You will pardon my saying that I have high hopes I shan't see you in the morning."

"Good-night, Holmes," said two Watsons.

"Rest well," said his own Watson.

Most of the Holmeses waved indifferently.

"'Night, Holmes," bade Rin.

If the withering look he sent just before securely shutting his bedroom door had any effect upon her, it had worn off the very following night, when he awoke to find a dark figure who reeked strongly of cheap perfume, salty sea air, and alcohol crawling drunkenly through his bedroom window.

"Aye, mate," said the stranger, "you haven't seen a ship with black sails around, have you? Probably manned by a lad with long hair and an oddly girlish form. It might be a girl, in fact." A pause. "Have you any rum?" (11)

The End

(1) Rest in peace, Jeremy Brett.

(2) Ronald Howard played Sherlock Holmes in the '50s, and John Henry Norton was a mass-murderer who tried to kill him in The Christmas Pudding. And yes, he is in black-and-white.

(3) Amazingly talented and ruggedly handsome Robert Downey, Junior...as if it isn't obvious.

(4) H. Marion Crawford was Ronald Howard's Watson in the 1950s, and has got to be the most downright adorable Watson ever. He is also black-and-white.

(5) The handsome and excellent David Burke as Watson with Jeremy Brett's Holmes.

(6) The witty and gentlemanly Jude Law as Watson with Robert's Holmes.

(7)-(8) The insanely talented and endearing pair of Benedict Cumberbatch (7) and Martin Freeman (8) as Sherlock and John in BBC1's Sherlock.

(9) Read my fic, Tales of Random, and the chapters Zany Things at 221b, if you're curious about that.

(10) As the name declares, this is Sherringford Basil, of The Great Mouse Detective. His round mouse companion is Dawson.

(11) Come on, people. Jack Sparrow is the ultimate fictional character.

The above chapter is proof that schoolwork is bad for children's brains. And why have I stolen Jack's ship? Maybe you'll find out someday….