You are not disappointed when you take the monkey into you mouth, for you watch from its point of view as it drops unceremoniously into darkness, landing on its side, to face none other than the wobbler!\n\nIn excitement, you rear up on your hind legs like a majestic stallion and bounce on your feet, but the vision doesn't end there.\n\nSuddenly, the toy bounces too, and you feel the distinct jerking sensation of being moved and jostled about like when Mrs. Baker brings you and John to that impossibly cold office filled with the echoing cries of tortured animals.\n\n[[When the vision ends, you drop the toy.|Bedroom]]

Case of the Missing Chew Toy

“You won't get away with this, Meowiarty! I'll see to it that you don't!” you cry.\n\nBefore Meowiarty can even respond, you pounce on Meowiarty, knocking him to the ground beside the clawfoot tub, but you are no match for the cat's claws. They seem to glisten, as if made of steal, when he extracts them, slashing you across the face in a flurry of feline martial arts as he kicks you away with his hind legs. He hisses then leaps onto your chest, biting and clawing at your face.\n\nIn the living room, the doorknob squeaks as it turns, revealing Mrs. Baker carrying a sack of groceries. When she closes the door behind her, she hears the commotion coming from the guest bathroom and realizes that while John has come to enthusiastically greet her, you are nowhere to be found.\n\nShe drops the groceries, runs to the guest bathroom, and attempts to separate you two; however, her hand gets caught in the crossfire by you and ends up in your mouth. With the whole world in chaos, you bites down hard, drawing blood, and Mrs. Baker, who is known for her kindness, swats you across the butt, causing the fight to suddenly stop.\n\n“Bad boy, Sherlock!” she scolds.\n\nShe scoops you up underneath your belly and squeezes you to her side as she marches you into the kitchen, Meowiarty following close behind. From the wall, she slides across a baby gate and effectively blocks you from the living room and the rest of your toys. Meowiarty just stares at you from the other side of the gate, neither sneering nor taunting. Just watching.\n\n“There, there, Artie,” she coos. “Let mama pour you some milk.”\n\nShe then rifles through her grocery sacks, setting aside some brand-new toys she had bought you and John, and retrieves a new saucer which she pours milk into from a glass bottle.\n\nJohn knows better than to mess with Meowiarty, and on this day, the cat wins.\n\n[[Try a different ending?|Guest Bathroom]]

The humming is just too much for John to take. Eyes open wide, he rolls over onto his belly and stretches his short Dachshund legs, his jaw and tongue extending in a lazy Sunday afternoon yawn as he steps out of his blue plush bed.\n\nYou, ever the odd one, sit still as a statue on your hindquarters facing Mr. and Mrs. Baker's computer tower. Not blinking, not breathing. Eyes screwed shut harmoniously as a low, single-syllable chant emanates from your lips in perfect unison with the tall, black machine. [[You are completely unaware of John creeping forward…|The Missing Chew Toy]]

“Dennis, are you aware that you were rolling .25 miles above the speed limit?” you inquire.\n\nDennis pants as he lifts himself to his feet and scratches his forehead with his tiny claws.\n\n“I'm quite all right, Sherlock. Thanks for asking,” he responds wryly. “And what about you? How are you this fine winter morning?”\n\nYou sit back on you hindquarters, settling in for your interrogation.\n\n“Not well, Dennis. Not at all. There is a thief among us!” you cry.\n\nDennis stares at you with wide eyes, his body suddenly shaking in paranoid anxiety.\n\n“What kind of thief?” he asks as he shifts his eyes from side to side.\n\n“The worst kind of thief… a //toy thief//,” you say.\n\nAt this, Dennis sighs in relief and settles down into a huddle.\n\n“I need to ask you a few questions and then I'll be on my way,” you say.\n\n“Good,” Dennis replies, “… because I've got a schedule to stick to. It's only four months until the Spring Marylebone Hamster Olympics, and I… will… be… READY!”\n\nHe gives you the meanest, toughest face he can muster, but with his little, pink nose, small eyes, and puffy cheeks, the effect is lost. Fortunately for Dennis, he is none the wiser and takes your lack of verbal or physical response a look of awe.\n\n“Where were you on the evening of December 21st?” you begin.\n\n“You mean last night? In my cage, like I always am in the evenings. You know Mr. and Mrs. Baker don't like me rolling about willy-nilly at night,” Dennis responds.\n\n“Hmm… This is true. Mr. and Mrs. Baker would never leave you in your ball,” you ruminate. “When was the last time you saw my //wobbl//… that red, beehive-shaped toy that I carry around?”\n\n“Look, I get around a lot, but I've been so concentrated on my training that I don't even know where I'm going anymore,” he explains. “I almost bumped into you just now.”\n\n“Good point,” you say, the gears of your mind moving behind your eyes. \n\n“Mrs. Baker likes to clean up the flat after she puts me up in my cage for the night,” he says. “[[I'd try speaking with Molly and Sarah in her and Mr. Baker's bedroom.|Bedroom]] Their bowl sits atop his dresser.”\n\n[[Return to the Living Room to speak with John.|Speaking with John]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Kitchen.|Kitchen]]\n

You dip you head to the ground, pressing your muzzle into the carpet and inhale the mixed scent of pet dander, dirt, and sweaty human feet. To you, this is the scent of home, a comforting and intoxicating aroma that on any other day might lull you into a state of complete relaxation not unlike your earlier meditation, but with your mind racing forward towards the recovery of your wobbler, you waste no time trudging onward from your comfort zone and into the all-consuming world of detection.\n\nA few paces ahead, lying next to the leg of a small table, is a crumpled page of the previous day's newspaper. While nothing about the paper is physically extraordinary, [[the scent billowing from it begs investigation.|Yesterday's Newspaper]]\n\nMeanwhile, down the hallway, a white and brown furry mass ensconced in a plastic, neon green orb moves its legs in such a furious pace that you barely have time to react. You jump out of the way as the orb swerves in front of you and crashes into the wall, knocking the critter flat onto its belly.\n\nThe tiny rodent lies there stunned, and [[you wonder if perhaps you should inform him of his recklessness.|Talking to Dennis]]\n\n[[Return to the Living Room to speak with John.|Speaking with John]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Bedroom.|Bedroom]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Kitchen.|Kitchen]]

He's right; the temptation is too great. Every little scrap of paper or tiny morsel of food has its own story to tell, taking you through a series of images in which time is practically non-existent as they collide against one another in what certainly seems like a catnip-induced frenzy, not that you know what that's like. When the visions end, you realize that there is little of use within the trashcan, even though it's a sensory goldmine. \n\n'This is why the humans call it trash,' you conclude.\n\nBut as you lift your head from the trashcan, you spot something familiar: a scrap of newspaper. Again, nothing is quite significant about newspaper. It doesn't taste good and you use to eliminate on it as a puppy, but this particular scrap of newspaper is pertinent to your case as it was torn from the crumpled ball lying in the hallway. Could Mrs. Baker have used the newspaper to pick up your toy and deposit it in the basket? \n\n[[There's only one way to find out!|Kitchen]]

It takes every ounce of your willpower to not just charge the cat, but the truth is that his enormous size and the power packed behind those claws is more than you can handle on your own. You don't want to drag John into this messy affair either. After all, the wobbler isn't his toy, and Mrs. Baker wouldn't be pleased if she came home to find a mangled cat whimpering in her guest bathroom.\n\nThe worst part of it, you conclude, is that the toy is now ruined, having been sullied by Meowiarty's vile drool and scent. It could take weeks, even months, until smell finally fades away, if it ever did. Luckily, the wobbler isn't your only toy. It might be your favorite, but it certainly isn't your only toy. You have plenty of other toys you can share with John, like a tennis ball generously donated by Mr. Baker with which you play fetch at the dog park or that delightful grunting hedgehog.\n\n“Maybe Mrs. Baker will use it to hide catnip and drug you out of your misery,” you say, “… but I have better things to do than talk conspiracy theories with you. Perhaps another day, Meowiarty?”\n\nThe cat, whose face had been so lit up with evil satisfaction, drops the toy to the ground with an indignant look upon his face as you peacefully exit the guest bathroom on your way to the living room. He growls, boiling in anger, until the sound of a squeaking doorknob catches his attention. \n\nHe leaps from the toilet and silently stalks after you, darting across the room and hiding underneath the sofa. John watches him from afar, keeping a careful eye on him, but you don't seem to care, your tail wagging in excitement as Mrs. Baker pops through the door with sacks full of groceries.\n\n“Hello, Little Man,” she coos at you in a high-pitched voice that puts you in a frenzy.\n\nJohn even bounds out of his bed, forgetting all about Meowiarty, and jumps on Mrs. Baker's leg.\n\n“Have you boys been good today?” she asks.\n\nBoth of you sit on your haunches in response.\n\nShe dips her hand into one of the sacks and produces two new colorful squeaker toys with sherpa lining, and when you eagerly latch onto it, expecting a light game of tug-o-war, your mouth suddenly explodes with the flavor of applewood smoked bacon. The flavor of John's is cheeseburger, you smell, as you drag your toy over to your bed and settle down to chew. Mrs. Baker smiles on as John comes to chew beside you.\n\nUnderneath the sofa, however, Meowiarty has been long forgotten in all the excitement, and as Mrs. Baker scoops up her groceries and sets them on the table, he glowers at you and John enjoying a well-earned treat.\n\nSullen and disappointed, he checks over his shoulder to make sure Mrs. Baker is safely in the kitchen and out of sight. When he sees that she is, he once again darts across the room from behind the couch and sneaks up on you.\n\n“You may have won this time, Sherlock, but let's see if you can keep that streak alive in a day or two," he hisses in your ear.\n\nYou lazily glance at the feline, still chewing on your new toy. Unfazed, you smirk and turn your back on the cat. \n\nAngrily, Meowiarty extracts his claws. They seem to glisten, as if made of steel. Hissing, he slashes you across your ear. You whine, jumping on your paws and turning to face the cat.\n\n'[[It's now or never|Retaliate]],' you think to yourself, [[but how would Mrs. Baker react to a mangled cat groaning in her guest bathroom?|Don't Retaliate]]

Before you can even begin to retaliate, Mrs. Baker scoops up Meowiarty by his belly.\n\n"Bad, Artie!" Mrs. Baker scolds.\n\nThe cat hisses and struggles against Mrs. Baker's hold, but she holds strong and deposits the cat back in the guest bathroom. As she leaves, she fetches the basket with all of the toys and waggles her finger at the feline.\n\n"Naughty cat! You're in timeout. No treats for you."\n\nMrs. Baker reenters the living room, and you run to meet her, jumping on her leg. She scoops you up and nuzzles you. \n\n"There, there, Sherlock. Do you want another treat?" Mrs. Baker asks. \n\nYou wag your tail in excitement and bark. Mrs. Baker puts you on the ground and makes her way back to the kitchen. From one of the cupboards, she takes out a bag of doggie treats shaped like bones. She jiggles the bag, and, at the sound, John immediately runs into the kitchen and sits on his haunches next to you. \n\n"Well, you both have been good today..." \n\nMrs. Baker grabs a couple of treats from the bag and tosses each in the air. You and John obediently jump in the air and catch the treats between your teeth. She pats your heads and returns the treats to the proper cupboard.\n\nFrom the bathroom, you and John hear the distant sounds of Meowiarty hissing and scratching at the door.\n\n"Two for Sherlock, zero for Meowiarty," you say.\n\nAn answering hiss echoes down the hall.\n\n[[Try a different ending?|Ignore Meowiarty]]

"Ohmmmmmmm…"\n\nYou sit still as a statue on your hindquarters facing Mr. and Mrs. Baker's computer tower. Not blinking, not breathing. Eyes screwed shut harmoniously as a low, single-syllable chant emanates from your lips in perfect unison with the tall, black machine. You must restore your calm before beginning this investigation.\n\nSlowly, your distress retreats. Your sense of smell is better than ever! Your deductive reasoning is honed to perfection. You are ready to find your wobbler! \n\nYou take a deep sniff of the air. Your nose twitches as it analyzes the different scents. One is more familiar than the others! It causes your legs to lock in place. You lift your forepaw off the ground and point ahead.\n\nThe game is, once again, afoot!\n\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Hallway.|Hallway]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Bedroom.|Bedroom]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Kitchen.|Kitchen]]

“I'd ask if you wanted a cracker, but I know how much you hate that stereotype,” you muse.\n\nMargaret perks up on her perch and ruffles her colorful feathers, quite literally.\n\n“I really wish you wouldn't tease me like that, Sherlock. It's rude,” she responds.\n\nYou traipse over to her cage and wrap your wriggling body around the pole, trying to reach a particularly itchy spot on your back. As your body slaps against the pole, the cage swings back and forth and causes her to falter, but she grips onto her perch tightly with her talons and swings herself back onto it.\n\n“That's quite enough, Sherlock!” she squawks.\n\n“Tell me, Margaret,” you say as you steps away from the pole and sit back on your haunches, “… you didn't happen to see the Missus carrying a basket full of toys into the kitchen last night, did you?”\n\n“It's funny you would ask that,” she says, nuzzling her white beak into feathers and plucking the loose ones, “because I did.”\n\n“When exactly?” \n\nEach loose feather falls to the bottom of her cage like snow, creating a pillow below. She decides to use this as a landing pad, spreading her wings and very delicately fluttering down onto the colorful mass before pinning her wings back neatly at her sides. She lets loose a yawn and then leans forward.\n\n“It was just before she pulled down my shade for the evening,” she recounts. “Mrs. Baker had come into the kitchen earlier to dump the trash, and when she came back, she was carrying a brown basket filled with toys like the ones you and John play with. One of the toys had some newspaper wrapped around it. Before she drew my shade, she unraveled the toy carefully and deposited the paper in the trashcan. I imagine it had your slobber all over it.”\n\nAt this point, your ears are perked, your tail is wagging, and all of a sudden, you just can't seem to keep your little body from wriggling in anticipation. Not only had Molly and Sarah seen the basket, Margaret had too, and both stories confirmed that Mrs. Baker had been cleaning around the time your wobbler must have gone missing. You have only one more question to ask, and hopefully, this case will be solved.\n\n“Do you have any idea where she might have placed that basket?” you ask.\n\n“Can't say that I do, but I'm sure with that spectacular nose of yours that you'll figure it out in no time,” she assures you.\n\nYou open your mouth to thank her, but before the words can fall from your lips, a dull //thud!// and a resulting clatter sounds from the guest bathroom in the hallway. It's enough to catch you both off-guard, causing Margaret to shriek and fly up to her perch and you to jump in your place. \n\n[[You immediately turn about, peering down the hallway, and cock your head when a light noise continues to persist.|Guest Bathroom]]

You pad into the living room and sit beside John.\n\n“How's your investigation?” John asks.\n\n“Ongoing.”\n\n"[[Perhaps meditating some more will help|Meditate]]," he suggests.\n\nYou consider his advice, but wonder if it might impede your investigation. [[You don't want the trail to go cold, after all.|Continue Investigation]]

The Adventures of Sherlock Bones:

At least that's what John thinks.\n\n“Are you going to stare at me or join me, Mr. Dachshund?” you ask, your eyes never opening and your body never moving.\n\n“Neither. What is that bloody racket, Mr. Bones?” John replies.\n\n“It's called meditation. Humans find it highly effective as a relaxation technique; others find spiritual enlightenment. I seek the latter,” you explain, “… but now you've sullied my concentration.”\n\nYou shake your head and wriggle your body from the tip of your nose to the tip of your tail, loosening up your posture just so that you can reach the sweet spot behind the back of your ear with your hind leg.\n\n“I've been meaning to do that for hours,” you finally say.\n\n“You seem a bit tense,” John notes. “Is something the matter?”\n\n“Well, now that you've mentioned it…”\n\nJohn rolls his eyes and inwardly sighs, 'Oh, brother! Why did I ask?'\n\n“Someone has stolen my //wobblah//!” you cry with a distressed toss of your head, Beagle ears flapping like a miniature set of wings.\n\nJohn's brow sinks deep down his forehead.\n\n“Your //what//?” he asks with his head cocked to one side.\n\n“My //wobblah//… You know, the toy that the humans hide meaty treats inside and expect me to spend hours digging out,” you say. \n\nYou snort amusedly at the sentiment.\n\n“Isn't that rich? Me, spending //hours// extracting a treat from center of a chew toy.”\n\nJohn ignores your rapidly inflating ego.\n\n“I'm sure you just misplaced it, Sherlock. No one would steal-“\n\n“Then I will assume that you won't be assisting me in this investigation,” you say.\n\nYou about-face with you nose high in the air, hesitating to step forward. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Then finally, a rather familiar scent causes your legs to lock in place. You lift your forepaw off the ground and point ahead.\n\nThe game, in essence, is afoot.\n\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Hallway.|Hallway]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Bedroom.|Bedroom]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Kitchen.|Kitchen]]

With a single paw, you jostle the paper and drag it closer to you. You tentatively lick it, the newsprint smearing on your tongue, and dive in. \n\nBright colors and fast-paced images blur across your mind's eye, bringing you back to a moment several hours ago when a blonde figure crouches down on the floor and removes something from the floor of the kitchen, but the image passes by so fast that you can't make out just what it was that disgusted her so.\n\n[[You snort and back away from the newspaper.|Hallway]]

The kitchen has always been a very exciting place. Not only is it one of the busiest rooms in the house, it's also filled with delicious foods over which you and John have been scolded many a Christmas, birthday, or other gathering. This isn't to say that you are always little terrors. On the contrary, you and John often decide to take naps under the dark and cozy space under the table, always nestling at Mr. and Mrs. Baker's feet when they sit drinking their coffee, reading the newspaper, and clipping coupons in the morning or evening. \n\nAnd sometimes, when Mrs. Baker is cooking, she slides you extra special treats between meal times. A slice of bacon here, a bite of chicken there. For this reason, your bowls sit but a few feet away from the stove because she's always afraid of dripping fat across her waxed floor, but for now, your bowls remain empty. It's neither feeding time nor are the Bakers home in the first place, so the bowls fail to interest you in the slightest.\n\nThe trashcan, on the other hand, seems absolutely riddled with new discoveries to be made. You know that Mrs. Baker would have your head on a platter if she came through the door to find you digging through the trash-you've already been reprimanded for that quite a few times when you were a puppy-but the temptation, you fear, is just too great to resist. Your eyes are drawn to it like a cat to a laser light show, [[and it takes every ounce of your willpower to not just skitter over to it in wild abandon, throwing caution to the wind.|The Tantalizing Trashcan]]\n\nAnother reason why the kitchen is particularly exciting is the fact that their flat faces onto the street, and luckily for the Bakers, their kitchen also faces that direction. When she doesn't feel like wasting electricity, Mrs. Baker often only opens the curtains and lets the natural light filter into the room, which Margaret the parrot thoroughly enjoys. For hours, Margaret will sit on her perch and stare out the window, watching the world go by down below as the citizens of Marylebone carefully pass each other on the street in their cars or on the sidewalks. You and John do the same, resting your little paws on the windowsill, and together, the three of you sit in perfect harmony, enjoying the simple pleasures of life.\n\n[[You watch her thoughtfully as she picks at the pellets in her bowl.|Talking to Margaret]]\n\n[[Return to the Living Room to speak with John.|Speaking with John]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Hallway.|Hallway]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Bedroom.|Bedroom]]

“You won't get away with this, Meowiarty! I'll see to it that you don't!” you cry.\n\nBefore Meowiarty can even respond, you sound the alarm. Your barking echoes down the hallway and into the living room where John has just decided to lay down for another nap, but noting the distress coming from the guest bathroom, he launches into a sprint.\n\nHe passes Dennis in the hallway who finally manages to free himself from the trap set by the small table and rolls away, but when he enters the guest bathroom, he sees Meowiarty standing tall and stiff upon the closed toilet seat, his hair standing on end as he hisses at your growling.\n\n“It seems I've arrived just in time,” John says, baring his teeth at the cat.\n\n“There's no time for cheesy heroics. Get him!” you say.\n\nTogether, the two of you pounce on Meowiarty, knocking him to the ground beside the clawfoot tub, but you are no match for the cat's claws. They seem to glisten, as if made of steal, when he extracts them, slashing both of you across the face in a flurry of feline martial arts as he kicks you away with his hind legs. He hisses then leaps onto your chest, biting and clawing at your face, but John head-butts him from behind and knocks him over your head.\n\nIn the living room, the doorknob squeaks as it turns, revealing Mrs. Baker carrying a sack of groceries. When she closes the door behind her, she hears the commotion coming from the guest bathroom and realizes that you and John aren't there to greet her like you normally are.\n\nShe drops the groceries, runs to the guest bathroom, and attempts to separate you three; however, her hand gets caught in the crossfire by you and ends up in your mouth. With the whole world in chaos, you bite down hard, drawing blood, and Mrs. Baker, who is known for her kindness, swats you across the butt, causing the fight to suddenly stop.\n\n“Bad boy, Sherlock!” she scolds. “You too, John!”\n\nShe scoops both of you up with one hand each underneath your bellies and squeezes you to her side as she marches you into the kitchen, Meowiarty following close behind. From the wall, she slides across a baby gate and effectively blocks you from the living room and the rest of your toys. Meowiarty just stares at you from the other side of the gate, neither sneering nor taunting. Just watching.\n\n“There, there, Artie,” she coos. “Let mama pour you some milk.”\n\nShe then rifles through her grocery sacks, setting aside some brand-new toys she had bought you and John, and retrieves a new saucer which she pours milk into from a glass bottle.\n\nToday, Meowiarty wins.\n\n[[Try a different ending?|Guest Bathroom]]

You bark angrily, forgetting your new toy. John watches you two cautiously, still chewing his toy. Meowiarty, now smug, extracts his claws again, ready to strike. \n\nYou growl, drawing the attention of Mrs. Baker. Neither you nor Meowiarty notice her as he claws at you and you fight back. John barks to warn you, but he's too late.\nMrs. Baker scoops both you and Meowiarty into her arms by your respective bellies. \n\n"Bad boy, Artie! You too, Sherlock!" Mrs. Baker scolds. \n\nShe deposits Meowiarty back into the guest bathroom, snatching the basket of toys, and closes the door. She leaves the basket in the living room and marches you to the kitchen. She slides a baby gate from the wall, effectively blocking you from the living room and the rest of your toys. \n\nJohn sidles up to the gate, whining, as he watches you. Mrs. Baker pats John's head, and John returns to his new toy.\n\nOn this day, John wins.\n\n[[Try a different ending?|Ignore Meowiarty]]

[[“Ohmmmmmmm..."|The Humming Noise]]

In no time at all, you bound down the hallway and past Dennis who is still trying to roll himself out from underneath the small table but to no avail, for he keeps knocking into one leg and then the next.\n\n“A little help here would be nice!” he calls to you.\n\nYou look over your shoulder and with a frustrated growl respond, “I'm a bit busy at the moment.”\n\nWhen you finally come upon the guest bathroom, the door is partially closed, a curious thing since Mrs. Baker generally tends to leave the door open when there are no guests in the flat. You realize that the situation requires stealth, so you drop to your belly and silently creep toward it, not wanting to alert whoever or whatever is inside to your presence. When you reach the threshold, you paw at the door and wince when the knob bangs into the wall.\n\n“Do come in, Mr. Bones,” a voice beckons you.\n\nYou jump to your feet and enter the guest bathroom to come face-to-face with the fattest Russian Blue cat you have ever seen. Well, the only Russian Blue cat you know.\n\n“Meowiarty,” you growl under your breath.\n\nWith glowing yellow eyes, a missing ear, and a scar across his face, he is a sight to behold as he sits atop the toilet inside the whicker basket, but it's not the sight of him that causes you displeasure. There, between his grubby, little paws, is the one thing you have been searching this flat high and low for: your wobbler. \n\nThe cat paws and chews on it in delight, knowing the anxiety he's causing you.\n\n“I see you've returned,” you say. “Pity. I was hoping you'd run away again.”\n\nMeowiarty laughs.\n\n“Oh, sweet, misguided Sherlock. I just found my new home a few weeks ago. Why would I want to abandon it?”\n\nHe rolls over onto his back, grasping the wobbler between his paws, further taunting you.\n\n“Besides, have you seen the toys here? Take this one, for instance. It hides treats, but you know all about that, don't you Sherlock?” Meowiarty asks.\n\nSo far, you've done a wonderful job restraining yourself. Any other dog would've attacked the mangy feline by now, but as he continues to taught you with your toy, [[you feel the urge to lunge forward.|Attack Meowiarty]] You could do with some help, however, and John is but a mere room away. It's a bit risky, you realize, but against a cat as big as Meowiarty, [[this situation could get ugly really fast.|Bark for Help]] Perhaps it's best just to ignore him though. [[Why should you let a cat, of all things, get the best of you?|Ignore Meowiarty]]

"I've meditated enough today, John. My mental and sensory faculties are as sharp as ever! On with the investigation," you exclaim.\n\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Hallway.|Hallway]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Bedroom.|Bedroom]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Kitchen.|Kitchen]]

You carefully jump up against the dresser, stretching your neck to peer up further at them, and when they don't take notice of you, you clear your throat.\n\n“Ladies?” you call.\n\nAt the sound of your voice, they quickly dart into the sunken ship and peer out of its busted hull at the odd creature staring back at them.\n\n“Who are you and what do you want?” Molly bravely asks, but Sarah nudges her.\n\n“I'm sorry we haven't had a proper meeting. My name is Sherlock Bones, and I assure you that I mean you no harm. I'd just like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind,” you say.\n\nMolly slowly swims forward and Sarah tries to pull her back, clamping onto her caudal fin; however, Molly quickly whips around and head-butts her before venturing out toward the glass.\n\n“I don't mind, but my sister might. I'm Molly,” she says. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bones.”\n\n“Please, call me Sherlock. I'm assuming the other fetching lady in orange is Sarah,” you say, attempting charm to calm down the shaking goldfish.\n\n“Yes,” she replies in ever the sweetest voice. “I'm Sarah.”\n\nFeeling a little comfortable, she swims out of the ship and beside Molly.\n\n“What can we help you with, Sherlock?” she asks.\n\nMolly seems pleased with her sister's bravery.\n\n“I hate to cause you both any alarm, but there's a thief on the loose,” you say.\n\nThey both look at each other and gasp, covering their gaping mouths with their pectoral fins. Tiny air bubbles billow up to the surface of their bowl and release what you consider to be a very unpleasant scent into the air, but you choose to ignore the nagging need to inform them about personal hygiene and continue with your interrogation.\n\n“Last night, a very important, personal possession called a //wobblah// went missing,” you say. “Now, I don't know how to exactly describe it to you since you've probably never seen a beehive before, but it's a long, red object with many… Oh, what's the word? Bumps. You wouldn't happen to have seen the Missus with it, would you?”\n\nFor a moment, Molly and Sarah stare at you without a single word passing between their lips, just a bubble every few seconds. You, finding their catatonia a bit unnerving, shift around in place until Molly suddenly scuttles about her sister in circles.\n\n“What? Did you remember something?” you ask.\n\n“Yes!” she exclaims. “Earlier last night, Mrs. Baker was carrying a basket filled small objects, and I think one of those objects might just be your... //wobblah//.”\n\nFor the first time since the beginning of this investigation, your tail wags back and forth in anticipation of what clue or clues Molly's memory might bring to the surface. \n\n“What did she do with that basket?” you ask, almost tinkling in excitement.\n\n“I don't know exactly. She walked out of the room with it, but that's all I really saw,” she confesses.\n\nImmediately, your face falls flat. If only for the briefest of moments, you thought you were about to solve this silly, little case. Perhaps John was right. Maybe it had just been misplaced and Mrs. Baker was to blame, but at the same time, you really can't blame her. Who doesn't like a clean home?\n\n“The problem is that while we can see high and far, we can't see what's directly on the ground below us,” Sarah says. “Mr. Baker has our bowl pushed back from the edge so that we won't fall off.”\n\n“Of course,” you reply. “Safety first. We wouldn't want you beautiful ladies having a tumble, would we? I just wish you could've gotten a good look at what was in that basket.”\n\nSarah swims closer to the glass, so close that she can see the faint beginnings of her own reflection. She fights her short attention span to make a suggestion.\n\n“Each night when Mrs. Baker leaves the room after tending to us and then Dennis, she goes to pull down Margaret's shade in…”\n\n“The Kitchen?” Molly prompts.\n\n“The Kitchen! Yes,” she says. “I have no earthly clue what a 'kitchen' might be, but I've heard her talking about it with Mr. Baker. [[Perhaps you should look there.|Kitchen]]”\n\nYou consider this information and nod your head decisively. \n\n“Thank you for your cooperation in this investigation, ladies,” you say.\n\nAs you jump down from the dresser, Molly and Sarah swim back and forth along the front of their bowl waving their fins and bidding you a cheery farewell. \n\n[[Return to the Living Room to speak with John.|Speaking with John]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Hallway.|Hallway]]

You cautiously enter Mr. and Mrs. Baker's bedroom. Unlike the rest of their home, this room is completely foreign territory to you and all the other pets, except for Dennis and the twin goldfish, Molly and Sarah. \n\nAs per the Bakers' persistent request since you and John were puppies, their room has been dubbed a “no dog's land” free of the slobber and pet dander the rest of their flat has been victim to over the years. But since Dennis remains inside his ball when not in his cage and because Molly and Sarah's entire existence is confined to a single, decorative bowl, they have been given special privileges to roam the dwelling of their pet parents.\n\nExcept for a small, stuffed monkey with the word, “Congrats!” written across a red shirt, the entire room is spotless. You immediately recognize this as Mrs. Baker's handiwork because Lord knows Mr. Baker is such a forgetful man. He would let the entire flat lie in ruin for a year before realizing what a mess has piled up. [[As inconsequential as the monkey seems, however, something about it is quite obviously out of place and begs questioning|The Stuffed Monkey]], even if it doesn't exactly pertain to your current predicament.\n\nAs Dennis described, atop Mr. Baker's dresser-you identify it as so due to the brightly colored tie hanging from a closed drawer-are Molly and Sarah, playfully blowing bubbles back and forth in their bowl as they chase each other through a miniature sunken ship and fake seaweed, kicking up pebbles in their wake.\n\n[[You wait for a chance to interrupt their fun.|Talking to Molly and Sarah]]\n\n[[Return to the Living Room to speak with John.|Speaking with John]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Hallway.|Hallway]]\n[[Follow the scent trail to the Kitchen.|Kitchen]]

Written by \nAmanda J. Adamson\nEdited by \nKrystina Balogh \nand Emily Harrison