The Adventure of Silver Daze

Michael K. Neylon (aka Masem J. Mouse)


Eric. O. Costello -

October 1996

Act I: The Starting Gate

[After the theme song, we fade into a high, overhead shot of a great river-based metropolis in early morning. We dissolve fade (as the strains of "God Save the Queen" are heard) to a busy street scene.]

[A subtitle appears: "London, England, 1890." We follow a horse-drawn cart as it passes by a building, pausing at the building, which bears a sign reading "Baker Street." The camera turns away from the building, as the anthem plays out. We see a pedestrian walking along the street, when he (as well as a young, well dressed man standing on the sidewalk) is startled by a sour violin note.]

[He looks up with the bystander, and we cut to the front of a brownstone. We can see the front door of the brownstone, over which is a glass panel upon which is lettered "221B." We can also see, in a first-story window, a figure with his back to us, sawing away on a violin, producing a sour note roughly once every five notes. We cut back to the pedestrian, who grimaces, plugs his ears with his fingers, and hurries on.]

[We dissolve to the inside of a cluttered sitting room. A large, square-jawed figure with a mustache is making a vain attempt to read a newspaper, as the violin playing (now louder) continues. The figure winces in obvious mental and physical anguish at each missed chord. We pan right, past a tall figure with an aquiline nose who is dressed in a purple robe, and is playing the violin with eyes closed. We continue the pan, past a large, cluttered desk to a stained table upon which we find various pieces of scientific equipment (test tubes, burners, etc.)...and a wire cage containing two very familiar figures.]

[Cut to the cage. Pinky is sitting with his elbows on his knees, and chin in hands, dreamily lost in the music, with a very gratified smile on his face. Cut to Brain, who is reacting rather differently; he is frantically stuffing cotton in his ears. Pinky opens his eyes (we see a tear in one of them) and turns to Brain.]

Pinky: Ooooh, Brain! (Poit!) Isn't that the most wonderful melody?

Brain: [Who is still engaged in stuffing cotton in his ears -- he is speaking rather loudly] I'm afraid you'll have to speak up, Pinky! I am endeavoring to prevent those horrible sounds from punishing my cranium. [Brain finishes, and folds his arms across his chest.]

Pinky: [who turns around to look at Brain] Well, no wonder you can't hear me very well. [He gets up and walks over to Brain.] You've got these wads of cotton in your ears! [He reaches down and plucks the cotton from Brain's ears, just as a particularly sour, high-pitched note sounds. Brain, wild-eyed, jumps into the air, and lands on all fours.]

Brain: [Clutching his head in agony.] MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!

[Cut to the figure in the chair, who finally lowers his paper in exasperation and calls out to the violin player.]

Figure: Holmes? Holmes! [The music stops.] I'm starting to regret I ever wrote that you play the violin well. If my readers could hear you now, they'd never believe another word I wrote about you.

[Cut to the tall figure, who puts down his violin on a chair.]

Holmes: Forgive me, my dear Watson! I actually was not engaged in violin playing...

[Cut to Brain, who is digging in his ear with a finger, trying to clear it.]

Brain: [sarcastically] Do tell....

[Cut back to Holmes]

Holmes: ...but in some researches on the effect of high-frequency sounds on living creatures.

Watson: Well, it certainly has an effect on ME, Holmes. I'd thought I go mad.

Holmes: Well, the good Mrs. Hudson is coming to restore your tissues with an invigorating cup of tea. [Turns toward the door.]

[We hear the pounding of feet outside the room, and the door is thrown open, to reveal an older, portly lady carrying a tray with a teapot, some mugs, biscuits and assorted silverware. Mrs. Hudson is scowling.]

Mrs. Hudson: Here's your breakfast, MISTER Holmes. I DO wish you wouldn't play the violin like that. That mazurka you played earlier shattered every teacup in the house. [She sets the tray down with a bang on a table, and stands back.]

Holmes: [Walking over to the tray and taking one of the biscuits.] A thousand apologies, my dear Mrs. Hudson! [He walks over to the cage, breaks off a bit of the biscuit and hands it to Pinky.] We cannot make scientific progress without a bit of suffering, eh?

[Cut to Brain, who rolls his eyes in exasperation. Cut back to Holmes.]

Holmes: By the way, Mrs. Hudson, would you show our visitor in, before our tea gets cold?

[Cut to Mrs. Hudson, who starts in surprise.]

Mrs. Hudson: Err, yes, quite Mr. Holmes....[She exits, in some confusion.]

Watson: How do you know we have a visitor, Holmes?

Holmes: When the good Mrs. Hudson, who has been our landlady for years now, lays on a breakfast with three cups (or mugs, I should say) and spoons, it becomes obvious that we have a visitor.

[Cut to Brain, who turns to Pinky]

Brain: That, and observing that gentleman waiting on our steps.

[Brain indicates to Pinky, and we cut to a shot showing the well-dressed young man we saw earlier standing nervously on the steps in front of the building. We see Mrs. Hudson poke her head out and motion the gentleman in. Cut back to Brain.]

Brain: Observation, Pinky, pure and simple. He saw him there while he was playing the violin. The bit with the spoons and mugs is mere window-dressing, to dazzle the uninformed. Childish, really.

Pinky: [who is nibbling on the biscuit that Holmes gave him] But Brain, Mr. Holmes must be a really, really smart chap. I mean, why would all sorts of people bring him all sorts of tricky problems to solve?

Brain: A matter of selection, Pinky. Some cases, the easier ones, he accepts, and he makes excuses for why he can't take the harder cases. The successes are written up by Dr. Watson for a credulous public, the notes on the other cases are locked away in dispatch boxes, never to be seen by them. Quiet now, Pinky, we are about to receive another "demonstration" of Mr. Holmes' "talents."

[The door to the sitting room opens, and the young man whom we saw on the steps enters the room. He looks nervous and scared and his shakes hands with Mr. Holmes.]

Young Man: I do hope you can help me, Mr. Holmes. My name is...

Holmes: [interrupting, with a smile] I am aware of that already. You are Mr. Jonathan Wilkerson, age 26, occupation banker, recently marred, and currently the subject of police inquiries regarding the murder three nights ago of one Mr. Joshua Merryweather, the senior partner of your banking house. Pray provide me, however, with the less obvious details.

Wilkerson: Bu-but, that's fantastic Mr. Holmes! I am all those things, and what's more, I am innocent!

[Cut to the cage. Pinky is looking on, wide-eyed and agape. Brain is shaking his head.]

Pinky: Egad! (Narf!) What a brilliant bit of deductive thinking! How does Holmes do it?

Brain: [annoyed] Fraud! Charlatan!

Pinky: But Brain! He just identified a complete stranger!

Brain: I would hardly call him a complete stranger, Pinky, when his wanted poster is all over the entire city. [Brain indicates a sheet of paper tacked to the wall next to the cage, showing a caricature of Mr. Wilkerson, plus all of the relevant details, along with a police warning.]

Pinky: [greatly puzzled] You mean he's faking it?

Brain: Not quite, Pinky. Mr. Holmes combines a flair for the dramatic with a memory like a sponge to produce his meretricious little effects.

[Cut to a POV showing the backs of Brain and Pinky. In the background we see Holmes and Wilkerson talking, while Watson takes notes.]

Brain: Holmes' powers of observation, Pinky, are vastly overrated. Observe, Pinky, the red circle tattooed on the back of Mr. Wilkerson's hand, which Mr. Holmes does not appear to have noticed.

[Cut to a medium closeup of Wilkerson's hand, showing the circle. Cut back to Brain.]

Brain: Mr. Wilkerson is not all he appears. That tattoo mark, Pinky, indicates that our "Mr. Wilkerson" is a top assassin with a noted anarchist group. The elimination of the late Mr. Smith was a part of their nefarious plot to undermine England.

Pinky: Zounds, Brain! [Brings hands up to face in fright] Aren't you going to tell Mr. Holmes? Or what about the police?

Brain: Don't be ridiculous, Pinky. Unlike Mr. Holmes, I have no reputation. I have no name. I would be merely laughed at by Scotland Yard, and sent on my way.

[Cut back to the behind the back POV. Holmes, Wilkerson and Watson all shake hands, and leave the room together.]

Pinky: [sighs] Gee, Brain, it's too bad you couldn't become a detective and get Mr. Holmes' kind of reputation. [sighs again]

Brain: No, Pinky, Scotland Yard despis-...[looks up quickly, and then turns to Pinky] Pinky! Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

Pinky: [looks up, eyes half-closed] Wuuuuh, I think so, Brain, but you'd never get anyone to believe a little blue police box could hold that much!

Brain: [grabbing Pinky by the snout and lowering him to Brain's-eye level] Let's not travel out of this era in time, shall we, Pinky? [Lets go of Pinky's snout] No, Pinky, my path is clear. I must become a detective, beat the great Sherlock Holmes to a case, and solve it in a fashion to dazzle the nation! When all England sees my brilliance, they will naturally place me in positions of confidence and power. From there, domination of the British Empire and the world is a mere bagatelle!

Pinky: [doubtfully] Um, Brain? Where are we going to find a case, considering that no one know who you are? Well, besides me, that is! (Narf!)

Brain: [confidently] Why, Pinky, we have a case right under our nose!

Pinky: [cringing, and bringing his hand up to his nose as if to wipe it] Eeewwww! Do you have a tissue?

[Brain looks at the camera, turns back to Pinky, and motions him down. Pinky bends down and Brain flicks Pinky's nose, hard. Pinky's nose vibrates with a loud "booiing" and Pinky grabs it, looking at Brain.]

Brain: No, Pinky, look down at the newspaper on the floor of our cage.

[The camera cuts to a newspaper headline that reads: "GRAND NATIONAL HORSE RACE IN UPROAR! ODDS-ON FAVOURITE DISAPPEARS! FOUL PLAY FEARED! "]

Brain: What do the British love more than anything else, Pinky?

Pinky: Uuuhh, overcooked roast beef and warm beer?

Brain: No, Pinky, even more than that. [After a pause with no response from Pinky.] Animals, Pinky, animals! The British are incredibly soft-hearted when it comes to any situation involving them. Solving the riddle of the disappearance of a well-known and well-loved horse is just the thing to bring me to my public's attention. Mr. Holmes only casually glanced at the case, and he seems to have passed it off as [snorts] "too easy." I've developed my own suspicions about the case, but I must go to the scene of the crime in order to verify them.

Pinky: Egad! Brilliant, Brain! Aren't people going to be a bit wary of talking to two mice?

Brain: [Pondering Pinky's comment] have a point, Pinky. This calls for a disguise...

[Cut to a playing card with a bent-up corner. Brain walks behind it and, after a brief interval, Pinky walks up to it and waits outside.]

Pinky: [with excitement] Ooooohhh, I know! You could go as a pirate! [Gnashes his teeth and goes "aaarrrr" and swings an imaginary sword.] Oh, no wait! You could dress up as a ballerina! [Goes en pointe and twirls gracefully]

Brain: [poking his head around the card] Pinky, I've told you to stay out of the drawer where Holmes keeps his 7% solution, haven't I? [Ducks back in.] No, Pinky, we must assume a more traditional form of garb....

[Brain emerges in the traditional Holmesian deerstalker hat and Inverness cape. He also has a mouse-sized wooden pipe in his hand.]

Pinky: [Impressed, and takes a feel of the cape with his hand] Ooooohhhh, *fab*ulous threads, Brain.

Brain: Call me...[cue Dramatic Chord (TM) as we close up on Brain] Sherlock Brain! [Puffs on pipe, which emits a few bubbles]

Pinky: Oooh, righty-o Br--Sherlock Brain!

Brain: Yes, and YOU shall be known as my assistant, Dr. Pinky. [Brain produces a mouse-sized note pad and pen, and hands it to Pinky.] Your task is to chronicle my doings and to point out the obvious so that the proles can understand me.

Pinky: [taking the notepad and pen, doubtfully] Gee, I dunno Brain...

Brain: Trust me, Pinky. The obvious is your forte.

[Brain and Pinky walk screen left. Cut to the door of the cage, which Brain unlocks with the stem of his pipe. Brain swings the door open.]

Brain: [consulting a pocket watch] We have time for a brief stop at Simpson's in the Strand for a bite of cheese, and then, to the railroad station and to the Colonel Roast's stables! Come, Dr. Pinky! The game's afoot!

[Dissolve to commerical as the mice prepare to leave the cage]


Act II: Around the First Turn

[After coming back from the commercial, we see an old-fashioned steam engine coming roaring out of a tunnel, belching black smoke from its stack and sounding its whistle.]

[Cut to the inside of a first-class train compartment. Pinky is seated at left, and is dressed in a frock coat and a top hat. He has a mouse-sized Gladstone bag beside him. Brain is on the opposite side of the carriage, at right. He is also seated, and is wearing a similar frock coat and top hat, and also has a little bag next to him.]

[Pinky, who has been looking out the window at the passing countryside, turns to Brain, who has been reading a newspaper.]

Pinky: Uh, Bra--Sherlock Brain?

[Brain lowers his paper and looks at Pinky, raising an eyebrow.]

Pinky: Shouldn't you be, you know, laying out all the facts for me, so that I can relate them to my readers and miss the obvious clues contained therein? (Poit!)

Brain: You speak the truth, Pinky. [Puts aside the paper, and goes into "deep though" mode.] These are the facts that have been published in the newspapers. Silver Daze, as you might have heard, is, or was, the current favourite to win the Grand National Steeplechase. Her owner, Colonel Roast, has had enormous success in racing her, and Silver Daze has already won numerous events this season. Silver Daze has made Colonel Roast a wealthy man. Before Silver Daze disappeared, the odds on her to win the Grand National were three to one.

[Dissolve to a flashback, taking place at night, with all characters in shadow. Brain narrates.]

Brain: [v.o.] Colonel Roast's stable is a small one, with only the chief trainer, Striker, and three lads under him. The stables themselves, which are located in the hill country near Liverpool, are isolated, with the nearest neighbors, another stable, some three miles away, the rest of the country being wild.
On the night in question, Colonel Roast's horses had been returned from their exercises, and the three lads under Striker were eating their supper. A house maid looked in on them about an hour after she had given them their dinners, and found them passed out, drugged.

[Cut back to the railroad compartment]

Pinky: [shocked a bit] Drugged?! But how?

Brain: The local law enforcement office found traces of a strong chemical concoction within their meals, apparently added after the maid served them.

Pinky: [somewhat disguisted] (Poit!) Wouldn't the stable lads have tasted something funny in their food?

Brain: No, Pinky, it is a well known fact that nothing can be done to give English cooking any taste whatsoever. To continue...

[Cut back to flashback, narrated by Brain]

Brain: The maid turned to the stall where Silver Daze was normally kept, and saw that it was empty. She ran outside to find Striker and saw, in the moonlight, the figure of a man, whom she believed to be Striker, chasing a horse across country.

[Cut back to the carriage]

Brain: Since then, no one has seen either Silver Daze or Striker. It is interesting to note that since the disappearance, the odds on Silver Daze have risen to more than twenty to one, assuming that she will not be scratched from the racing card. Note that well, Pinky. I believe that to be a highly significant fact.

Pinky: Ooohhh, I'll *bet* you're right! Ha, ha! Get it, Brain? I'll....

[Brain, annoyed, is about to say something, when both Pinky and the Brain hear the compartment door open. They turn, and see the figures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson standing there; they are dressed in human versions of the two mice's clothes, and are also carrying human-sized Gladstone bags. Pinky looks greatly surprised, and Brain is briefly flustered, but quickly recovers]

Watson: Oh, terribly sorry...

Brain: [with a note of wariness in his voice] Not at all. There is room here for all of us. Won't you join us, um....Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes?

Holmes: Hah! I see my reputation has preceded me. [He offers Brain his hand.] To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?

Brain: [thinking very quickly and with a worried shift of the eyes] Ahhh, I am...Dupin. Y-e-e-e-s-s-s, C. Auguste Dupin, of Paris. [Shakes Holmes' hand; Holmes raises an eyebrow.] This [indicating Pinky with his hand] is my boon companion....ah.....

Pinky: [jumps in] Columbo, Dr. Columbo! [offers hand to Watson]

Watson: [shaking Pinky's hand] Your first name, sir?

Pinky: [thinking hard] Wuuuuhhh, I don't think they ever gave me one...

[There is a brief round of handshakes, and then Watson takes a seat next to Pinky, and Holmes takes a seat next to Brain.]

Pinky: [after a brief glance at Homes, in a whisper] Egad, Br--I mean, Sherlo---ooh, I mean Dupin. What do we do now?

Brain: [also in a whisper] Keep calm, Pin--Columbo, and for heaven's sake, keep quiet. Take notes. [Turning to see Holmes staring at him closely] Can I help you, Mr. Holmes?

Holmes: I beg your pardon, Monsieur Dupin, but there is something about you and Dr. Columbo that seems vaguely familiar. Have we met somewhere before?

Brain: [a trifle defensively] No, I don't believe so. [Becomes a trifle condescending.] However, I need not have met you before to notice that there was a breeze coming through the window of the carriage which you took to the railroad station, that you entered by the east and not the west entrance to the railroad station, and that you were in a great hurry to catch this train.

Watson: How do you know that, Monsieur Dupin?

Brain: Elementary, my dear Dr. Watson. When one notices the crumbs of unburnt pipe tobacco on Mr. Holmes' coat lapel [Holmes examines and brushes his lapel] , combined with the plaster dust on his hat that comes from the repair work that is being performed only on the east entrance of the railroad station [Holmes feels his hat] , and the fact that his shoelaces are untied [Holmes looks down] , all of the above can be easily deduced.

Holmes: [greatly amused] Hah! A fellow student of the art of detection! Most impressive. Perhaps you would be interested, especially since you are a...hmm, Frenchman, [smiles ironically] in one of my latest monographs. It discusses, with copious illustrations, how to identify no less than two hundred and six varieties of cheeses by their crumbs.

Pinky: [opens eyes very wide] Oooooohhhhhh, that sounds *neat*!

[Brain glares at Pinky.]

Holmes: [with an air of nonchalance] So, have you formulated any theories on the disappearance of Silver Daze yet? [In response to an eyebrow raise from Brain] Come now, when I see a student of detection on his way to Liverpool, and his newspapers opened to the accounts of the missing horse, it becomes obvious that thought is being given to theorizing on the case.

Brain: [testily] It is a capital mistake, Mr. Holmes, to theorize without having first examined the evidence.

Holmes: Touche, Monsieur Dupin! We must always keep these elemental truths in mind. As it happens, I have been engaged by Col. Roast to perform an investigation into the matter. May the, Monsieur Dupin.

Brain: [with a frosty smile] Indeed, Mr. Holmes.

[Cut to the train roaring through the countryside, smokestack chuffing. Cut again to the Liverpool railroad station, as Pinky and the Brain exit their carriage.]

Brain: How annoying. Having Holmes underfoot greatly complicates my plans for solving this case. I shall have to work even harder to ensure that I beat him to the solution.

Pinky: Where do we go now, Brain?

Brain: To Colonel Roast's stable, Pinky. You and I shall interrogate the staff and examine the scene of the crime. Let us procure a carriage...

[Pinky and the Brain move off. We pan right to a figure holding a newspaper. We cannot see the figure's face, but we can see that on the figure's right hand, there is a tattoo of a red circle...]


Act III: Bunching Up on the Rail

[We cut to an overhead shot of the English countryside, with rolling hills dotted with trees. It is late afternoon, moving into twilight. A small grouping of 5 or 6 buildings stands alone in the center of the shot. One building, set apart from the other, is a small graceful mansion of an obviously well-to-do owner. The other buildings are composed of a small stable and supporting facilities. A winding gravel path leads to the mansion and the other buildings from offscreen. As we slowly zoom in, we can see that an open horse-drawn cart is pulling up to the front of the mansion.]

[We cut to the front of the mansion, where the carriage pulls up and stops. A young lad, of about 16, jumps off the buckboard, and begins to pull some bags from the vehicle. A servant walks up to the carriage from the house, and opens the door. Brain and Pinky are still dressed in their traveling gear, and are standing at the edge of the carriage. Brain seems to be in some discomfort, as he is rubbing his lower back and wincing. Pinky, on the other hand, is looking around with wide-eyed awe.]

Brain: [half to himself] Pinky, please remind me to invent shock absorbers one of these days.

Pinky: [a trifle absently] Right-o Brain! [looking around and breathing deeply] So this is what the English countryside is like! Isn't it *glor*ious, Brain?

Brain: [annoyed] Pinky, we are not here for the sightseeing or the bracing air. Please, let me do all the talking. [Louder] Ah, here is our host now!

[Cut to the front door of the mansion, where we see the host, who appears to be a typical specimen of the "sporting gentry" type: round figure clothed in tweed and high boots, a majestic handlebar mustache and a cherry-red nose produced by whisky and fox hunting. The man walks down the steps from the front door, and approaches the carriage.]

Col. Roast: [In a hearty, booming voice and accent] Ah, by Jove! You've finally arrived. I'd thought my dashed telegram had been misdirected, eh, what?

[The Colonel reaches the carriage, and bends down to shake the hands of Pinky and Brain.]

Brain: Yes, ah, that telegraph office is, ah, a curse. I shall write my, ah, M.P., sir. You are Colonel Roast, I believe?

Col.: Yes, yes, I am, sir. And you must be Mr. Holmes?

Brain: [nervously] Ah, yes, but me Mr. Dupin. [Aside, sotto voice, to the Colonel] I must keep my identify a secret. Scotland Yard is terribly jealous, you know.

Col.: Eh? What? Oh! Ha,ha! Right! [winks, and puts a meaty finger to the side of the nose and taps it significantly]. Mum's the word, "Mr. Dupin."

Brain: May I introduce my associate, Dr. [straining a bit] Columbo.

Pinky: How do you do, Colonel? (Narf!)

Col.: Very well, thank you, Doctor. [winks again, broadly] . Now, let's restore the tissues with an invigorating cup of tea, and we can get you started on your enquires. [turns to the servant, who has been standing by as the carriageboy is fetching the luggage] Pelham, please make sure our guests' rooms are in order, and then call the stable staff to the drawing room.

Pelham: [In the fruity tones of the traditional English valet] Very good, sir.

[The Colonel turns and heads for the house, and the mice jump from the carriage and quickly follow him inside.]

[Dissolve cut to the drawing room, which is decorated with all manner of racing mementoes, such as trophies, etchings of past winners, etc. A large fire warms the room, and is casting dark shadows in the far corners. The Colonel is comfortably seated in one armchair, with one side to the fire, and is sipping a cup of tea. In the armchair opposite, both Brain and Pinky are sitting on the edge of the seat. Brain is carrying on a conversation with the Colonel, while Pinky is wrestling with a scone that is as big as he is. Pelham is seen clearing a few small items, and as the scene opens, he is departing the room.]

Brain: So, Colonel, pray relate to me your version of the events of that fateful night.

Col.: [setting down his cup] Again? Those chappies at the Yard haven't given you a sufficient transcript of my statement to them?

Brain: There is no substitute, my dear Colonel, for a first hand account.

Col.: Eh? Oh, yes, quite, quite. You must have your methods, Mr. Dupin.

Brain: Yes, and...[turning to Pinky, who is wrestling with the scone and a spoon, trying to put some cream on his scone] ...Pinky, may I have some...

Pinky: Oooop!

[Pinky loses his battle with the spoon, and deposits the cream on Brain's face.]

Brain: ....cream.

Pinky: (Poit!) Sorry, Dupin!

Brain: [wiping the cream off his face with his handkerchief] Here! [handing Pinky a notepad and pen, with force] Would you *kindly* takes notes as the Colonel relates his story?

Pinky: [taking the materials] Er, righty-o, Brain! [Begins to work intensely at it, his eyes half closed and his tongue hanging out]

Brain: [turning back to the Colonel] Please excuse my partner, Colonel. He gets excited with the smell of the hunt.

Col.: What? Oh, right! Just like a foxhound, eh? [Chuckles loudly]

Brain: Yes, quite. Pray continue, my dear Colonel.

Col.: Well, it's rather like this, dontcha know....

[In flashback, we dissolve to a shot of the drawing room in the bright light of midday. The Colonel is seated in the same chair, in a POV shot from the other chair. We can see someone is occupying the other chair, but we cannot see that person except for their legs. The Colonel narrates.]

Col.: [in v.o.] About a week ago, just a day before Silver Daze vanished, I was visited by an awfully rummy chap...

Col.: [in flashback] Well then, now that we've had a spot of tea, how may I help you, Mr...[reads a calling card in his hand] ... Grates?

Grates: I have a business proposition, Colonel, I wish to purchase one of your horses.

Col.: Really? How extraordinary. Well, we're not one of the major stables, we're rather small, but I have a few horses that might catch your fan--

Grates: No, not any horse. A particular one. I wish to purchase [a perfectly timed pause] ...Silver Daze.

[The Colonel, in flashback, starts visibly and leans toward Grates in surprise.]

Col.: [in v.o] Well, I can tell you that that came as a dreadful shock. I mean, Silver Daze at that point had been declared all but the winner of the Grand National.

Col.: [in flashback] Well, ah, surely you must be mistaken. Silver Daze, well, she's the favourite in the Grand National. Surely I can interest you in another....

[We cut to Grates' hands as he opens up a checkbook and holds a pen.]

Grates: I am prepared to be quite generous, Colonel. Shall we say, one hundred thousand pounds?

[Cut back to POV of front of Colonel]

Col.: [incredulous] HUNDRED THOUSAND pounds??!??

Grates: Ah, I am not generous enough. Two hundred thousand, then?

Col.: You're mad! That's many times the purse of the Grand National!

[Cut back to Grates' hand, checkbook and pen]

Grates: You drive a hard bargain, Colonel. My final offer then: five hundred thousand pounds, and not a farthing more.

[Cut back to the POV of Colonel's front]

Col.: No! Never! I won't sell Silver Daze! She's been my pride and joy since she was a yearling, and she is the horse that will win my stables the reputation it deserves. [with heat] No sale, sir! No sale!

Grates: [with a sigh] . Dear me, Colonel. Dear me. Silver Daze is a fine horse, but she will certainly not carry the day at the Grand National.

[Cut to Colonel, whose eyes move up as Grates stands up off-screen]

Col: What the devil d'ye mean by that? Out with it, man!

Grates: [off-screen] Simply this. Silver Daze will not cross the finish line. She will not even be at the starting line. Good day, Colonel.

[The Colonel tries to stand in time to stop Grates from departing, but we hear the bang of a door off screen, indicating that Grates has moved too quickly for the Colonel.]

Col.: [in v.o.] Well, that was it then, and I haven't seen him since. I called the constables, of course, and gave them his name, but they told me that the Yard had no one in their files by that name.

[We move back to the present, and we see the Colonel smoking a pipe as finishes the above narration, while Brain is listening, eyes closed, with great concentration. Pinky, meantime, is furiously taking notes. Brain opens his eyes.]

Brain: And how would you describe Mr. Grates, Colonel?

Col.: Well, now that you ask it, that's the rummy thing. Not a sort of chap to stand out, you know. Blond feller, no facial hair, somewhat youngish. Shan't be able to pick him out in a crowd, I dare say.

Brain: Quite interesting Colonel. It would appear our Mr. Grates has gone to a great deal of trouble to make himself unnoticeable. [turning to Pinky] Have you got all that, Doctor.

Pinky: ...un-notice-a-ble. There! (Poit!) Ohhh, yes, Br--Mr. Dupin. I got all of it down. Look!

[He hands the notebook proudly to Brain, and the Colonel bends over to look. Cut to a shot of the pad, which bears squiggles that could be writing, but seem to be almost unreadable.]

Col.: Bless my soul! Been writing prescriptions, eh, Doctor? [chuckles]

Brain: Yes, a *thorough* professional. [hands the pad back to Pinky with a glare]

[As if on cue, the door to the room opens, and three young lads, who are clearly related, walk in. They are about 14, 12 and 10 years in age, respectively. Each is dressed in a manner suitable for stablehands, such as sweaters, wool pants, and flat hats. The Colonel motions the boys over between the chairs, and in front of the fire.]

Col.: Ah, there you are! Mr. Dupin, Dr. Columbo, allow me to introduce you to our stablehands. [Indicating each in order, eldest first] This is Nathan, and his younger brothers Luke and Cody. Their family has been working for these stables for years. Lads, I'd like you to meet Mr. Dupin and his partner, Dr. Columbo. They're here to look into the Silver Daze affair.

[The three lads remove their hats and nod politely.]

Nathan: 'ow do you do, gen'lemen?

Brain: Quite well, thank you. [to the Colonel] Well mannered, aren't they?

Col.: [puffs out his chest with pride] They're like family to me. When I pass on, these stables become theirs. They're going to be brought up as proper Englishmen, sir.

Brain: Most laudable, Colonel.

[Cody, the youngest, pulls on Luke's sleeve and whispers, a shade too loudly, into his ear.]

Cody: Coo! Those chaps look just like mice, they do!

Luke: [whispering back] 'ere, that isn't polite!

Brain: [very smoothly] Actually, Cody, if you must know, we are two lab mice in the midst of a complex plan for world domination.

[The brothers and the Colonel are initially puzzled, and then break out in jolly laughter. Pinky, meanwhile, in scribbling in his book]

Pinky: ...'wo-orld dom-i-na-tion' Got it! (Poit!)

[Brain fumes a bit, while the laughter subsides, and the Colonel wipes his eyes.]

Col.: Ah, Mr. Dupin, I never dreamed you had such wit.

Brain: [a trifle flustered] Yes, quite.

Col.: [turning serious] Now then, Nathan, why don't you tell Mr. Dupin what happened on the night when Silver Daze disappeared?

Nathan: Yes, sir. Well, my bruvers and I, we were finishing cleaning the stables for the night, when this strange feller comes walking up to me...

[We move again into flashback, where we see the far end of one side of the stable, where Nathan is carrying a stack of hay in one hand, and is carrying a lit lantern in another.]

Nathan: [in v.o.] I was finishing up, when I 'eard a voice...

[We see a dark shadow appear around the side of the stables, and look at Nathan.]

Voice: [from the shadow] Hello there, lad.

Nathan: [in flashback] Oi! Who-who are you?

Voice: My name doesn't matter. The Colonel just told me to ask you to show me where you keep Silver Daze.

Nathan: [suspiciously] Oh...? Did he, then?

Voice: Yes, I...

Nathan: Clear off! If the Colonel wanted to show you the 'orse, he'd be down here then with you. Get on, or I'll set the dog on you!

Voice: [annoyed] Hmm...well trained, aren't you. What if I gave you...a tenner?

[The shadow holds out a hand, and we see a white, square piece of paper clutched in his hand, lit by the dim light of the lantern. We also see something else...]

Nathan: [in v.o] That when I seen this big red thing on the back of 'is 'and.

[Cut back to the present. Brain snaps to attention.]

Brain: A red mark on the back of his hand? Like a circle?

Nathan: Well, I don't rightly know, sir. Didn't 'ave a good chance to look, the light being faint an' all...

Brain: [to Pinky] Doctor, make sure you note that. We have seen that symbol before.

Pinky: Zounds, Br- er. Dupin, you mean like at a convenience store? Narf!

Brain: [to the humans] Excuse me one moment. [Brain fwaps Pinky on the head, causing Pinky to "Zort!"] Pray continue, Nathan.

Nathan: [confused] Yes, sir....

[We return to the flashback. The shadow is still holding the bill. Cut to Nathan]

Nathan: [shaking his head] No, sir. You could give me all the gold in the Bank of England, and you wouldn't see the back of Silver Daze. Clear off, or I'll yell for Mr. Striker!

[Cut to the two figures]

Voice: [lowering the bill] Very well. But you have no seen the last of me, young man.

[With that, the shadow departs. Nathan stands there for a moment, drops the hay, and begins to leave the barn.]

Nathan: [in v.o] So I locks up the barn, runs back to the 'ouse, and told the Colonel what happened. The 'ole 'ousehold came out, but we didn't see anything. Silver Daze, she was still safe. That's when my bruvers and I, we had our supper.

[Dissolve back to the present.]

Nathan: Well sir, right after we ate our dinner, we got all sleepy, and when we was woken up the next morning, Silver Daze was gone.

Brain: [turning to the other two brothers] And you agree with his account?

[Cody and Luke nod vigorously]

Brain: Nathan, is there anything I should know about Silver Daze that would help me identify her?

Nathan: [thinks a bit first] Well, she's grey all over, has white splash on her she got her name,'...oh, yes, Mr. Striker an' I just shoed her the day she went and disappeared. Seven-an-a-'alfs, they were.

Brain: Thank you, gentlemen. I'm sure this stable will be in safe hands when the day comes for you to inherit it.

[The boys look over to the Colonel, who nods. They put on their caps, touch them in a motion of deference to Brain and Pinky, and leave screen right. Brain turns to the Colonel.]

Brain: One more thing, Colonel. Did the police examine Mr. Striker's effects when they were here?

Col.: Well, yes, they did. They're over here on this table...

[Cut to a table, on which there are some pieces of paper, a few coins, and some keys. Pinky and Brain are on the table, the Colonel stands next to it.]

Brain: [examining the papers and items] Hmmm...feed bills....pamphlet for horse medicine...tin of cigarettes...keys , most likely to the stable...two pounds in assorted silver...hmm, what's this?

Col.: [Looking at a piece of paper on the table] Oh, that's a bill from a London dressmaker. Sometimes the mail gets mixed up here.

Brain: Indeed? I think not, Colonel. I find this highly significant.

Pinky: How, Dupin?

Brain: You know my methods, Doctor. Apply them.

[Pinky's eyes open in glee and he claps his hands. Suddenly, he hunches over. His tail kinks, he half-closes his eyes, and begins to speak in a Pinky-inflected monotone, as Brain watches with growing annoyance.]

Pinky: Y-e-e-e-s-s-s! Most interesting! [Sees Brain about to speak out, and fwaps him on the head] Quiet, Brain!

Brain: [Grabs at Pinky, and shakes him, and then glances quickly to see if the Colonel caught this slip.] A friendly nickname among old friends, Colonel. [Turns to Pinky, who has resumed his normal self.] No, my dear Doctor, this is highly unusual. If it were mere misdirected mail, it would not be creased so as if it had been carried around. Note the date, gentlemen, three weeks ago, and note further that it is a second notice for payment for a very expensive grey silk dress, almost twenty pounds. Is Striker married, Colonel?

Col.: [rubbing his chin] Well, no...he's a widower.

Brain: [turning to Pinky] So you see what is unusual, Doctor?

Pinky: Oh, yes! Grey is *absolutely out* this year as the color of fashion. *Everyone* is wearing blue this year...

[Brain rolls his eyes]

Brain: Well, Colonel, we have learned all I think we can here in the house. Tomorrow, we shall walk the meadows and see if we can find the traces of your horse.

Col.: Splended! [calling out loudly] Pelham! [Turning to the mice] I suggest, gentlemen, that we call it an early night, and after a hearty breakfast, you can begin your investigation anew!

[Pelham enters, and stands stiffly at attention]

Pelham: Sir?

Col.: Monsieur Dupin and Doctor Columbo will be retiring now, Pelham, could you show them to their rooms?

Pelham: Very good, sir. This way, gentlemen.

Brain: [to the Colonel] I must thank you, Colonel, for your generous hospitality. Until the morrow, then.

Col.: Quite! Good night, sir.

[Dissolve out as the mice follow Pelham out of the room.]


Act IV: The Backstretch

[We dissolve into a shot of the stables, from about a quarter mile away. It is late morning, but there is still a bit of dew on the grass, and a few clouds dot the blue sky. The mice, dressed as their counterparts, appear walking over a hill from the direction of the stables. Brain is carrying a magnifying glass in front of him, and is carefully scanning the ground. Pinky is following with curiosity, and is carrying his mouse-sized Gladstone bag. As the mice continue to walk, the scene pans away from the stables and across the countryside.]

Pinky: Zounds, Br-er, Sherlock, that was a yummy breakfast. Why'd we have to leave it so soon?

Brain: Alas, Pinky, already a week has passed since the disappearance of Silver Daze, and any chance of finding clues as to Silver Daze's or Mr. Striker's disappearance is already slim. However, Lady Luck smiles upon us, as it has not rained in these parts since that fateful day.

Pinky: But what sort of clues are we looking for? A knife? A candlestick?

Brain: No, no, nothing that obvious, my friend. I would seriously doubt that our culprit would leave such an obvious clue. No, we must look at what has already been discounted by our friends at the Yard.

Pinky: [as if remembering something] Oh, you mean like that circle-thingy on that guy's hand?

Brain: Exactly, my dear Doctor. I fear that there is something going on here at a much deeper, and more dangerous level that just the disappearance of a racing horse. Consider, if you will, the death of the banker, Mr. Merryweather. Such an incident would naturally cause a temporary disruption in the financial business that keeps England strong. Similarly, the removal of the favourite steed in the most anticipated race of the year would shock the social well-being of any proper Englishman. And both events are somehow linked together by the mark of that guild of assassins. As the common man would say, I smell a rat!

Pinky: [starts, and sniffs at himself] But, Br--Sherlock, I *bathed* this morning!

Brain: [annoyed, but still concentrating on looking through his glass] Concentrate, Doctor! Any possible deviation from our search could cause us to miss something vital.

Pinky: Uhh, Brain?

Brain: [turning to face Pinky, while continuing to walk forward, and in an annoyed tone] Well, what is it now..ahh!

[Brain suddenly trips and falls, sending the magnifying glass flying into the air. It comes straight down, smashing the glass and putting Brain's head through its frame. Pinky runs up and tries to help Brain recover his composure.]

Pinky: Um, I s'pose it's a little late to say "watch your step?" (Poit!)

Brain: Thank you for your sincere, if not sufficiently early, warning, Doctor. Now, help me take this [indicating the frame] off.

Pinky: Sure thing, Br-- Sherlock!

[Pinky struggles with Brain, but eventually manages to pull the frame off Brain with a POP! Pinky flies backward, and lands with an "Ooof!", and then an "Ow!" against a chunk of metal that is half-hidden in some grass. Brain stands up, and brushes off the dirt and glass debris covering him.]

Brain: Hm...what was that I tripped over? [turns to look back at where Pinky fell]

Pinky: Well, there's this big metal thingy sticking in the ground over here...

[Cut to a shot of a metal item with two widely spaced prongs.]

Brain: [with a gleam in his eye] Doctor, I believe we have stumbled upon a clue!

Pinky: [giggles] Oooh, "stumbled"! Ha,ha! Narf! Good one, Sherlock.

[Brain fwaps Pinky smartly (Zort!)]

Brain: Just help me drag this out so we can have a look at it, and quickly!

[The mice get to work, each grabbing one of the points of the metal object. They heave back on it with some strain, moving it at first slowly, and then, with a rush, they free it from the grass. The object, a horseshoe, flies a short distance, carrying both mice with it. They land, and the horseshoe lands on top of them, causing a temporary crushing of their midsections. Brain struggles out from under it, and recovers for a moment. He then proceeds to examine the shoe carefully, while Pinky suddenly starts giggling.]

Pinky: Wooo! That was fun, eh? (Narf!)

Brain: Please be quiet! I must learn all I can from this clue!

[Pinky gets out from under his end of the horseshoe and peers over Brain's shoulder.]

Pinky: Ooooh, it's a horseshoe! (Poit!) We must be *really* lucky!

Brain: [annoyed] what *are* you babbling about?

Pinky: Wuh, gee, Br-, I mean, Sherlock, everyone knows that horseshoes are lucky charms! You just want to toss it over your shoulder to make it work, but you don't want to break it or your mother's back will be broken for seven years...or is that eight years? (Poit!)

Brain: [pausing briefly to glance at the camera in disgust] Doctor, we don't have time for your superstitious nonsense! Look here! [Brain grabs Pinky and pulls him over to the horseshoe.] This is a size 7 1/2 shoe, the same size Silver Daze wore. And look at the condition of the shoe; it shows very little wear. Remember what Nathan said, that the horse had been shoed on the day it vanished? [eyes widen, and turns to Pinky and grabs him by the lapels.] I say once again, the game is afoot!

Pinky: [confused] Afoot? Zounds, Sherlock, I don't know the rules to that one. How about a bit of Old Maid instead?

[Brain follows up with another fwap, producing another "Zort!"]

Brain: Come, let us search the area for other clues. We are close to finding who our culprit is!

[The mice spread out, and starting looking at the ground intently. We follow Brain as he is closely examining the terrain. After a few feet, Brain discovers something.]

Brain: Y-e-e-e-s-s-s! [Calling to Pinky] Come here at once! I've got it! A set of horse prints leading away from Colonel Roast's stables, and in the general direction of the neighboring stables. [Looks closer] And one of the hooves that made these tracks was unshoed! Pinky, we must...[looks around] Pinky?

Pinky: [walks into shot, carrying a cigarette butt proudly] Egad, look! Look at what I found!

Brain: Your anti-littering activities are impressive, Pinky, but we are searching for clues. [slaps the butt out of Pinky's hands]

Pinky: [in a hurt tone] But....

Brain: [waving off Pinky] Gather together the bag and the horseshoe, Pinky, we have a small cross-country trek to partake!

[Brain begins to walk away, while Pinky dashes to collect his gear, and races to follow Brain. Their voices trail off as they move away.]

Pinky: But Sherlock! Didn't the horse trainer chap sm.-..

Brain: Quiet, Doctor! I am currently working out the solution....

[As the mice disappear over a hill, we see a human foot step into the foreground. Cut to a POV showing a view of the top of a foot, and the discarded cigarette butt. A hand, holding a magnifying lens, is lowered, and we see the enlarged cigarette butt. The lens is withdrawn, and we see another hand reaching down, and picking up the butt. Dissolve to a commercial.]


Act V: Fighting for Position

[Dissolve into later that same day, near twilight. We see that that that morning's fair weather is giving way to ominous looking stormclouds. The mice walk into a small grouping of buildings including a stable, quite different from the Colonel's stable. Brain is intent on his goal. Pinky is lagging behind, obviously tired, since he is lugging the bag and horseshoe. As soon as Brain stops, he falls flat on his face.]

Pinky: [weakly, breathing heavily] Zounds, Brain. How come we had to hike all his way? *Why* couldn't we have just taken a carriage or something?

Brain: [looking at the ground, with an air of abstraction] The element of surprise, Doctor. If my hunch is correct, and they usually are, the culprit of the crime will not be expecting us, and be shall be able to break this case wide open.

Pinky: Well, while you're breaking the case wide open, can I get some shut-eye?

Brain: [pulling out a small pocketwatch from his suit] Morpheus will have to wait, Doctor. Time grows short, and as you can see [cut to rolling clouds, cut back to Brain] we shall soon be treated to a spot of rain. We must make do with the time we have left. Come, let us examine these horses closely.

Pinky: [with a pained sigh] Righty-o Br-Sherlock.

Brain: [turning and looking at Pinky] While we are here, please use my other pseudonym, Doctor.

Pinky: [tired and confused] *Other* pseudowhosis? I didn't know I was using your first one!

Brain: [annoyed] Just call me Mr. Dupin! Now let's get on with it!

[The mice walk over to the stable, climb up one of the doors, and jump down inside. We cut to the inside of the stable building, which is dimly lit, but is bright enough to show us that there are about 16 stalls, eight on each side, with the dim outline of horses in them. The stables seem to be rather less well-kept than the Colonel's. The horses take no notice of the mice, and continue to chew on their feed. Pinky and the Brain use the woodwork within the stable to go between each stall, so that they are eye level with each horse's head. Brain pauses at each stall, peers at the horse, then past the horse to the contents of the stall, and then continues on to the next horse.]

Pinky: Whacha doin'...ah...Mr. Dupin?

Brain: I am looking for any signs of our missing steed, Dr. Columbo. As the local constablury has previously checked these stables in their own slipshod way, but found no obvious sign of Silver Daze, it is apparent that our "friend" has gone to great lengths to disguise his ill-gotten gains. Thus, we must carefully examine each stall for a hint of the true Silver Daze.

Pinky: Oh, right-o! (Narf!)

[Brain is continuing his examination of the stalls when he stops at one with a brown mare, who looks sad-eyed and disconsolate. He sniffs the air with puzzlement, looks down, and his eyes go wide.]

Brain: Hello, what's this?

Pinky: What is it, Dupin? Is it a clue? The word "Rache" written on a wall? Little stick figures of dancing men holding flags? [hunches down and wiggles his fingers] A species of worm unknown to science?

Brain: [peers at Pinky as if Pinky has gone mad] N-o-o-o-o, something a trifle more realistic. The smell from this stall is much more withstandable than any of the others, indicating it has been in use for a somewhat shorter time. Also, there is something odd about the smell of this horse.

[Brain jumps down into the stall, followed by Pinky, carrying the shoe and bag. The mare still doesn't notice them. Brain walks up to one of the hooves and points with excitement.]

Brain: Observe, Pinky! The stablehands here have been careless, and they have not reshoed this horse. Quickly, give me the shoe we found earlier!

Pinky: (Poit!) Right-o, Mr. Dupin!

[Pinky hands the shoe to Brain, and Brain places it in one of the prints on the soft dirt on the floor. The shoe fits perfectly.]

Brain: [cut Triumphant Music (TM)] Y-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-s-s-s-s-s!

Pinky: [looking up at the horse] Er, um, Dupin? Wasn't Silver Daze a *grey* horse?

Brain: [calming down] Hmmm, yes, and this *is* certainly a horse of a different color. I wonder.

[Brain walks over, pulls a handkerchief from his suit, and rubs at the fur just above the hoof. We see that as he rubs, the brown color disappears, to be replaced by grey fur beneath it.]

Brain: Behold! Someone has used...[sniffs at the cloth]. ..shoe polish to disguise the horse. Here, Doctor. [hands Pinky the cloth] Go and wipe off the horse's face, and look for the distinctive mark on its nose.

Pinky: [takes the cloth, and nods eagerly] Check!

[Cut to Pinky scrambling to the top of the stall door, and then to the top of the horse's head. The horse, sad-eyed, takes no notice of the activity. Pinky begins to wipe down the fur, gradually removing the brown polish. Cut to a closeup of Pinky as he climbs down from the head, and onto a nearby wooden post.]

Pinky: All finished! Come have a look, Dupin!

Brain: Stellar, Doctor. Tell me, is there anything you recognize about the horse?

Pinky: I'll check....

[Cut to the side view as Pinky looks up into the mare's face, which can now be seen in some dim light. With the polish removed from most of her face, we now recognize the horse as Phar Fig Newton. Both horse and mouse recognize each other at once, and as their eyes turn into hearts, we hear the strains of "Romeo and Juliet" playing in the background. Little tiny hearts pop up between the two.]

Pinky: [deeply lovestruck, and softly] Nnnnnaaaaarrrrf!

Silver Daze: [equally softly] Nyyyyyaaaaaarrrrpppphhhhhh!

[Cut to Brain's POV, looking up at the smitten pair]

Brain: [flabbergasted] What *are* you doing up there? [waits, but gets no response] Pinky?! [clambers up to where Pinky is gazing dazedly at the horse; Brain grabs Pinky and shakes him.] PINKY!

Pinky: [snapping slowly out of his love trance, with an air of abstraction and a huge, happy grin] Ohhh, hullo. Look who it is! Why it's Ph--

Brain: [clamps a hand over Pinky's mouth] Yes, I recognize the markings, too! It's Silver Daze! We've solved the case!

[Pinky is about to say something, when we hear the door to the stables open, throwing more light into the stables. The mice immediately scramble behind some gear, as a middle-aged man, dressed in scruffy clothes, and smoking on a cigarette, walks in, and starts to check on each horse.]

Man: Now then, me lovelies. All right, then, eh? [strokes the head of one of the horses] Gonna win the glory of the Grand National for this 'ere stable, and not for that berk Roast, eh?

[Cut to the mice's POV.]

Brain: [whispered v.o.] Look, Doctor, at his hand!

Pinky: [whispered v.o.] Egad!

[Cut to a medium closeup of the man's hand, which shows a red circle on the back]

Pinky: [whispered v.o.] It's the mark of those asset-type thingies!

[Cut to Pinky and the Brain, in the shadows]

Brain: [whispered] Exactly! We have stumbled into something deep here...

Pinky: [whispered, and looking as his lifted feet] Ohh, ewww, I'll need a bath after all this, then.

[The man approaches Silver Daze, and peers at her face.]

Man: Oi, what's 'appened 'ere then? Rubbin' off your makeup, eh? [reaches into his jacket pocket, and pulls out a jar and rag. The man opens up the jar, dips the rag into it, and begins to replace the polish on the face of the resisting Silver Daze, who whinnies softly in protest.] 'Old still, 'old still. There now! You'da thought the Colonel would have raised 'is 'osses to be better mannered than that. Good thing ol' Mr. Grates 'as put me in charge 'ere. Better pay, better 'ours, better ev'ryfink.

[Cut to Brain and Pinky]

Brain: [whispering] Well, if it isn't the "missing" Mr. Striker, Doctor! Faking his own disappearance to join this "Mr. Grates" in his evil plans...

Pinky: [in a low, but a trifle too loud, voice, caught up in the excitement] Naarrf!

Man: [turning in the direction of Pinky's voice] Oi, whazzat then? [steps over, and sees the two lab mice.] Blimey, what 'ave we got 'ere then, eh?

Brain: [nervously] Well, I...I've come to see a man about a horse!

Man: [with a sneer] Very bloody funny. 'ar-ar-ar. Pull the other one, mate, it's got bells on it.

[Pinky stifles a nervous giggle]

Brain: [with some more confidence] Actually, *Mr. Striker* *is* Mr. Striker, isn't it? Your cigarettes are most distinctive. I wish to purchase a horse to enter in the Grand National. And not just any horse, mind. I want...[looks at knuckles, and then up at Striker] ..Silver Daze.

[Striker's face shows shock and surprise, and he tries to recover]

Striker: S-s-silver Da-daze? I don't know what your're talking...

Brain: [accusingly] Pull the other one, Mr. Striker. It's got bells on it! My associate and I have heard everything you've just said. It's just a matter of notifying the proper authorities, and you'll soon being doing time as a guest of Her Majesty say, for about ten years?

Striker: [eyes open in fear, and backing away] 'oo...'oo are you?

Brain: [advancing with triumph] I am he that makes the dark and mysterious clear and lucid. I am he who makes the criminal classes of England tremble. I am an instrument of justice, swift and terrible. I am...[cue Dramatic Chord (TM)] Sherlock Brain! That will be the name you remember when you are in the dock before the magistrates!

Striker: [continuing to walk backward, eventually reaching the wall of the stable] I-I know nuffink, squire. I'm not the man behind this....

Brain: Oh? Then who told you to abandon your employer, Colonel Roast, the man who trusted you with his most valuable horse? The man who you cheated? Out with it!

[Striker is sweating with fear, and his hands are scrabbling against the wall. Suddenly, he touches the barrel of a rifle, and a sneer crosses his face. In one fluid motion, he picks up the rifle, whirls, and aims it, with the muzzle a few inches from Brain's face.]

Striker: [with a sneer] Now then, Mr. Sherlock Scotland-Yard-jack-in-office. Suppose the Old Bill will be able to piece this together...if there ain't no one to tell 'em about it?

Brain: [with a trace of fright; he is backing away now] Ah...let's not be too hasty, Mr. Striker. I'm sure we can work out some arr-

Striker: 'Fraid not, Mr. Brain. Seems you know a li'le bit too much, you do.

[Striker advances with the rifle. Cut to Brain's POV as he looks over his shoulder and sees a rake standing against a stall door, the teeth end up. Brain's eyes widen as we cut to him.]

Brain: Pinky! Pinky! Quickly, the rake!

[Cut to Pinky, who looks around in panicked confusion]

Pinky: Huh?

Brain: [yelling] The rake! The one at the stall door! Quickly!

[Pinky spots the rake, and jumps to the floor, runs over, and starts to try to move the rake, even though it is far to heavy for him. He ends up causing the rake to fall to the floor. Cut to a camera POV of the floor, as the rake falls to the ground, the teeth of the rake falling into the path of the advancing Striker, and Pinky gripping the handle. Cut back to Striker.]

Striker: Say your prayers, Mr. Sherlock Brain!

[Striker cocks the rifle, but just as he is bringing up the rifle to fire, we cut to a shot of his foot stepping on the rake. The rake flies up, catching him square in the side of the head. Pinky flies up through the air and the rifle discharges into the air. Pinky lands in a pile of hay with a loud "Troz!" As for Striker, he wobbles a bit, the eyes roll, and he pitches forward, out cold. Cut to Brain, who has been on his knees praying fervently. Brain hears the silence and opens his eyes. He sees the results of the melee, and looks up briefly toward Heaven with an air of gratitude.]

Brain: Well done, Doctor! Not quite the solution I had in mind, but I applaud the results.

[Pinky wanders into the shot, covered with bits of stray hay, which he is picking out of his clothes; he seems a bit woozy.]

Pinky: Wha-wha hoppen?

Brain: Ours is not to question the ways of Divine Providence, Doctor.

[Pinky stops by the fallen Striker's hand, the one that has the tattoo. Pinky looks down at it, and his eyes open wide in shock.]

Pinky: OH! BRAIN! Come quickly! [Looks up at Brain and points to Striker's hand.]

[Cut to Brain, whose is rifling through Striker's coat pockets]

Brain: Yes, yes, we saw that he has a tattoo earlier, remember. But these receipts for women's clothing are much more interesting...[looks at one oddly] I did not know they made garters in this size...

Pinky: Brain, you really have to see this. [trots over to Brain, grabs the startled Brain, and drags him over to the hand, and points down.]

Brain: Pinky, what *are* you doing?

Pinky: Brain, *LOOK*!

[Cut to the mice's POV. We now see the tattoo up close for the first time. We can now make out that it consists of the aforementioned red circle...but circumscribed around a red letter "A". Cut to Brain, as a look of shock and horror crosses his face.]

Brain: [quietly] Oh, no...

[We hear a VERY familiar voice coming from offscreen]

Voice: Oh, yes...

[We cut to the POV of the mice, looking the stable door. A very short figure, no taller than the mice, stands in the door, the light casting its shadow against the walls of the stable. Fast zoom keyed with Dramatic Chords (TM) on the figure. The figures resolves, upon closer inspection, to be Snowball. Flashes of lightning from the approaching storm appear momentarily. Snowball is dressed very elegantly in formal evening wear, with a top hat, opera cloak, and cane. He stares with an air of superiority at the mice.]

Snowball: Journeys end in lovers meeting, gentlemen.

[Cut to the mice, who look at each other]

Brain and Pinky: [in a hushed whisper] Snowball!

[Cut back to a shot of the mice near Striker's body, and Snowball, who walks into the shot screen right.]

Snowball: I was wondering how long it would take you to get here. I'm almost surprised you managed to beat out the...hmm..."great" Sherlock Holmes here. Did you rely on the daily horoscope for guidance? Or was it the tea leaves?

Brain: I was only...I was only taking my time, to allow you to fall into...into my trap. Besides, what happened to that Professor fellow who was keeping you. Morrsion? Moore?

Snowball: [in resentment] Professor James Moriarity! Bah! Him and his paper on the binomial theorem! It will get him nowhere. Still, at least *he* lets me conduct my own plans, and accepts me for the genius that I am...[stands in front of the Brain, and prods him in the chest with the handle of his stick] ...and that *you* are not.

[Brain starts a slow burn, with a furious glare at Snowball]

Snowball: [With a sneer] Come now, the Great...ahem, what's your little title now? Oh yes, "Sherlock Brain". Come now, Sherlock, can't you handle a bit of dry English wit? This case must have seriously taxed your synapses. [Turns to Pinky] Why *are* you still hanging around this wretched specimen?

Pinky: [with fear] But...but I saw you die! I mean, I saw you fall...

Snowball: [a trifle confused] Hmm...? [pauses in thought] Oh, those Reichenbach Falls! You thought I'd...[smiles and walks over to Pinky, placing his hand on his shoulder] Let's just say the rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated.

[Brain snaps out of his fuming]

Brain: So! I should have guessed that you were behind all this?

Snowball: [turning back to Brain] Indeed, you would have had to have guessed it, for you *never* would have deduced it.

Brain: [fuming still] I suppose the death of the late Mr. Merryweather was part of your plan as well?

Snowball: But of course! Don't you see..? Ah, well, let me put it in terms you can understand, my dear Brain. Nice, simple ones. I only regret there aren't sufficient pictures to go with them.

[Brain grits his teeth, but remains silent]

Snowball: You see, the death of a prominent banker like Mr. Merryweather would cause a disruption in the normal operation of England's financial markets, upsetting the monied classes. The mass confusion of the Grand National caused by the disappearance of the favourite would upset the proles. All it would take would be the untimely demise of our aged Queen [chuckles in a sinister fashion] , and all England would be ripe for my taking. Once I have England, the rest of the world is a mere bagatelle.

[Snowball turns away, and we cut to an overhead shot showing him opening the door to Silver Daze's stall. We hear Brain speaking as Snowball leads Silver Daze out.]

Brain: Well, what about your confederates? Striker? And Wilkerson?

Snowball: Mere tools. Disposable tools. What of them? Ah, Striker. I knew his fascination with the outfits of the gentler sex would be the end of him someday. And that idiot Wilkerson. I told him NOT to visit Holmes, and if that encounter hadn't come off, well, I wouldn't have to do this myself.

[Cut to Brain, Pinky and Snowball, who is holding the reins of SIlver Daze, whose front hooves can be seen.]

Brain: So what will it be now, Snowball? All I need to do is return Silver Daze to Colonel Roast, and your plan is in ashes. I've already warned Scotland Yard that the murderer of Mr. Merryweather is at large, and I am hot on his trail!

Snowball: [with an air of ennui] Bluff and swagger, Brain, bluff and swagger. You have done no such thing, my agents have been watching your every step. Now, you shall see my next step. You first crossed my path when you recognized Wilkerson for who he was. You inconvenienced me by actually coming out here and investigating the case. And now, you are completely hampering my plans, and putting my liberty at risk. There is only one thing to do.

Brain: Oh, and what is that?

Snowball: Simple. Destroy the evidence.

[Pinky widens his eyes, and then we see his anger building slowly...]

Brain: Destroy the evidence? How do you intend to do that?

Snowball: [to Brain's face] Two words: dog food.

[Snowball drops the reins, and walks a few paces away. He turns and stops. Pinky's anger continues to build, and we see his eyes turning red...]

Brain: You're mad, Snowball! You'll never get away with this!

Snowball: Terribly sorry, gentlemen. I must clear up all the loose ends before folding my tent and silently stealing away. It is convenient that Mr. Striker here will provide a perfect suspect for the law when it eventually arrives...

[Silver Daze, sensing danger, starts to whinny in fear. Pinky's eyes grow a deep carmine, and he starts to breathe heavily. Snowball does not notice this as he twitches aside his opera cape and pulls out a mouse-sized revolver. The Brain gasps when he sees this.]

Brain: Don't do this, Snowball!

[Silver Daze whinnies again in fear]

Snowball: Sorry, Brain, but I'm a preservationist. Or, rather, a self-preservationist..

[Cut to a Snowball POV as we see the pistol aimed straight at Silver Daze's head. Cut to Snowball]

Snowball: Good-bye Silver Daze. Nothing personal, you understand...

[With that, and with an inarticulate cry of rage, Pinky hurls himself at Snowball. He hits Snowball just as the shot goes off, causing the shot to go wide. Silver Daze is now dancing up and down in fear and whinning loudly. Brain turns to see Pinky chop hard at Snowball's gun arm, knocking the gun away..]

Pinky: [in tones of extreme rage] BLACKGUARD! VILLAIN! SCOUNDREL! SWINE! [each of these words being punctuated by a slap at Snowball] AND ... [pausing in thought] umm... other really evil names! (Poit!)

[Cut to POV of Brain, observing the fight. He turns to the camera]

Brain: [to no one in particular] Do not mock a love-stricten mouse...

[Suddenly, he notices lots of movement to his side, and looks at Silver Daze, still whinning, and the reins flying freely around. Brain sees his chance, and tries to grab Silver Daze's reins.]

[Cut to Pinky, who shoves a very disheveled Snowball hard up against a pillar. Cut to Snowball POV, as he sees an enraged Pinky, with a fist drawn back]

Pinky: Any last words?

[Cut to Snowball, who is sporting scratches and the beginning of a shiner.]

Snowball: Um...yes...before you administer that, could you ask Diana Rigg over there to give me her autograph? [Points behind Pinky]

Pinky: [confused; he lets go of Snowball and turns around] Diana Rigg? Where?

[Snowball ducks away, fast. Cut to Brain, who has control over the reins but not much else, as Silver Daze is still dancing about and noisily expressing her fear.]

Brain: [being soothing and worried at the same time] There, there, Silver Daze, everyth-

[Brain suddenly catches a hoof right on top of him, and he is forced to let go. Cut to a shot of the horse running out of the stable. Cut back to a shot of Brain, as a flattened mess on the floor. Pinky walks into the shot, camera right.]

Pinky: Sorry, Brain, but Snowball got away. Uh, Brain???

Brain: [muffled, and with a weary note] Most unfortunate Pinky, I've lost my quarry, too.

[Pinky, with a look of concern, reaches down and pulls up Brain, shaking him back into what is fairly near his normal shape, except for a number of bruises and scratches.]

Pinky: Should we go after Snowball, or Silver Daze, Brain?

Brain: [shaking his head, partly to clear it and partly in response] Forget Snowball, Pinky. No doubt he has fled at top speed. No, we must search out Silver Daze, and quickly, while the trail is fresh!

[The mice quickly step outside the stable. It is night, and we cut to the sky, as the first clap of thunder is heard. Cut back to the mice as the rain starts to come down heavily. The mice call out for Silver Daze, with no success.]

Pinky: Zounds, Brain! Where do you think she's gone? How can we trace her?

Brain: [looking up, annoyed] We won't be able to trace her in this weather, Pinky.

[The mice turn sadly back into the stable.]

Pinky: Gee, I hope Silver Daze is all right. Where do you think she'll go?

Brain: I can only hope that her instincts will lead her back to her home stables, Pinky. In the meantime, we have work to do. Let us bind up Mr. Striker, and turn him over to the authorities. Tomorrow we can check in with Colonel Roast. [Brain pauses, and turns with gleaming eyes to Pinky.] Then, Pinky, we may lay the solution to the case in his lap, on the very day of the Grand National. Come, Pinky.

[As the mice talk and retreat into the stable, the camera pans through the rain right. It stops as we make out three figures in the rain a short distance from the stables. One is of a horse, the other is a short, stout man. The third man is tall, and seems to be wearing a deerstalker hat. The tall man is leading the horse across the screen, and out of sight into the gloom. Dissolve out.]


Act VI: The Homestretch

[Dissolve into an overhead shot of the Aintree steeplechase racetrack, at midday. The stands are filled to capacity, and as we zoom in on the track we see a series of horses being paraded in. The crowd is in a festive mood, as we cut to the racetrack touts shouting out the odds. Accompanied by their theme, the Warner Siblings, who are dressed in appropriate garb (morning dress for Yakko and Wakko, and, in the case of Dot, a fetching hat and dress), race in the foreground, and are shortly followed by Ralph, who is dressed in a bobby's uniform that doesn't quite fit him, especially the helmet. They disappear screen left as we zoom in on the mice, who are studying an odds board.]

[Cut to a portion of the odds board, which shows the following entries:

#10 Fruenleven (Owner:Earl of Kress) 9 to 2

#11 Chimes at Midnight (Owner: Duc de la Marche) 11 to 1

#12 Unitedstatescanadamexicopanama (Owner: Dr. R. Paulsen, FRCS) 15 to 1

#13 Silver Daze (Owner: Col. S.J. Roast, DSO) 66 to 1

#14 Pinnacle (Owner: Rt. Hon. Sir. E. Neverend, CMG, PC, MP) 7 to 1

Cut to a POV showing the mice, who are also in morning dress, with grey toppers and gloves. Pinky is wearing a pair mouse-sized binoculars around his neck]

Brain: Most interesting, Pinky. We've seen neither hide nor hair of Silver Daze, yet the Colonel insists on keeping him in the race. Extraordinary odds, though, 66 to 1! People must think Silver Daze has been upset by this.

Pinky: [hand to chin] Hmmm...maybe I shout take a flutter, and put a shilling, or even a half-crown on Silver Daze. (Poit!)

Brain: Pinky, your confidence in Silver Daze is commendable, but may I remind you we are still investigating this case? We have no time for personal gain. While Scotland Yard was pleased to receive Striker, we have yet to bring the case to full closure, and win the applause this is rightfully ours!

Pinky: [scanning the crowd, with a worried look] Brain, do you think Snowball will show up?

Brain: I can't rule it out, Pinky. Come, let us talk to the Colonel and see what he has to tell us.

[Cut to the stalls. In one box, we see the Colonel, also in morning dress, sitting with Luke and Cody, who are well-scrubbed and dressed. The Colonel is perusing the racing hard with a frown on this face and the boys look around eagerly, taking in the sights. The mice, walking on the railing, approach on the box and call out.]

Brain: Colonel? Colonel Roast!

Col.: Eh? Who's that? [peers around his card and spots the mice] Ah, bless my soul, if it isn't Mr. Dupin and Dr. Columbo. Well, exciting day, eh what?

Cody: [to Luke] Oi, they still look like mice to me.

Luke: [to Cody] Shh!

Brain: [ignoring the comment] Yes, Colonel, a fine day for racing. You seem awfully chipper, Colonel. Silver Daze has returned, then?

Col.: Well, that's the rummy thing. Got this delivered to me this morning [reaches into his coat and pulls out a telegram, which he hands to Brain] .


Col.: Yes, well, I decided to throw caution to the winds and keep the horse in. We'll see what turns up. Odds don't look very good, though.

[Pinky, who has been looking through his binoculars, turns to the Colonel]

Pinky: (Poit!) Isn't that your horse, number 13?

Col.: Yes, that's...[starts, and peers through his binoculars] hang on, that's not my horse is grey, not brown...

[Cut to the Colonel's POV through the lenses. Horse #13 looks surprisingly similar to Silver Daze, and is being led by Nathan, who is looking at the horse with a puzzled air.]

Brain: [who has been looking through another pair of mouse-sized binoculars] How very strange...come, Doctor, we must investigate this at once.

Pinky: Oooh, I think we ought to investigate that first [points with a very worried look off screen]

[Brain turns and we cut to his POV. We see two figures that are at the turn near the backstretch, looking intently over the rail. One figure has his back to us, but the other is Wilkerson.]

Brain: Good heavens, Dr. Columbo. [Turns to the Colonel] Please excuse us sir, but we believe a dreadful crime is about to be committed, and we must stop it.

Col.: Great Scott, Mr. Dupin! What should I do?

Brain: Contact the authorities. [Jumping off the railing] Come, Dr. Columbo!

Pinky: Right behind you, Mr. Dupin! (Poit!)

[The mice land and the ground, and we see them weave their way through the crowd of feet. We cut to the horses being led into the starting gate, as the excitement in the crowd builds. The racing anthem sounds from a bandstand, indicating the starting gun is near. We cut to a closer shot of Wilkerson and the other man, and see that Wilkerson is very nervous, and looks like he is trying to hide something under his coat.]

Wilkerson: [nervously] But..but Mr. Grates? Surely we shouldn't be doing this in the open...?

[Cut to front of Grates, who looks non-descript in his morning dress; however, his voice bears a VERY striking resemblance to Snowball's]

Grates: Silence, you idiot. If you hadn't panicked and run with your tail between your legs to Holmes, we wouldn't be here. We *have* to deal with this horse *now*. I swore to that pompous fool Roast that his horse wouldn't cross the finish line, and I'm a man of my word.

Wilkerson: But..shooting a horse in *midrace*? Why not do it now?

Grates: Because it would be easy to identify the culprit now. If we do it on the backstretch, everyone will assume the horse has stumbled, because the roar of the crowd will cover up the sound of the shot. We sneak away during the chaos, and that is that. Now, concentrate!

[We cut back to the starting gate as the gun goes off, the gates fly open, and the horses thunder out. The crowd begins to roar. The mice are still fighting their way through the crowd, getting closer and closer to Grates and Wilkerson. They turn, and we cut to a shot of the horses leaping over a steeplechase obstacle. We cut to Wilkerson, who has pulled out a revolver, and is starting to aim it at the horses. Cut to Brain and Pinky]

Brain: Oh, my! We'll never get there in time to stop them. Quick, Pinky! Get out of your clothes!

Pinky: [shocked] Why, Brain?

Brain: We must venture onto the track and distract the horses. We must spoil Wilkerson's aim! Quickly.

[Cut to the race as #13 is neck and neck with three other horses over a jump. Cut to Pinky and the Brain, without their clothes, as they dash out onto the track, and stop in the middle.]

Brain: NOW!

[Both of the mice stick their fingers in their ears, cross their eyes, and dance about.]

Pinky and Brain: Booga! Booga! Booga!

[The horses see this, and pull up, although horse #13 has a bit of a glint of recognizition in her eyes.]

[Cut to Wilkerson firing a shot.]

[Cut back to the horses, who race off as soon as they hear the shot, unharmed.]

[Cut back to Wilkerson, who turns to say something to Grates, only to find that he has vanished. Wilkerson races off in panic, shoving people out of his way.]

[Cut to the mice in the track.]

Brain: [Turning to Pinky] Y-e-e-e-e-s-s-s! Success, Pinky! We've saved the horses!

Pinky: [Looking up with an air of doom] Uuuh, that's nice. What about us, now?

Brain: [Turns] Hmm?

[Cut to mouse-level POV as we see a mass of horse hooves coming toward them.]

[Cut back to Brain, who wears a dejected look on his face. He reaches into a pocket, pulls out first one blindfold, then another. He hands one to Pinky, who puts it on as Brain puts his on. They stand, side-by side, arms behind their back, waiting for the horses.]

[Cut to a side shot of the horses thundering over the mice, #13 in the lead.]

[Cut to a roaring crowd.]

[Cut to a fleeing Wilkerson, who stops in a passageway and looks around. He sees Grates, or, rather, the empty shell of an abandoned mechanical Grates without a head. Wilkerson turns first one way, and then the other, and we see from his POV burly policemen starting to advance toward him.]

[Cut to the finish line, where #13 crosses the line first by a length.]

[Cut to roaring crowd.]

[Cut to the winner's circle, as a proud but confused Colonel Roast poses with #13 and an ebullient jockey before a camera operator with an old fashioned flash powder mechanism, which goes off. #13 seems to be distracted, and is looking around for someone or something. Sherlock Holmes walks up to Colonel, screen left.]

Holmes: My dear Colonel! A richly deserved victory!

Col.: Yes...but how? And where is Silver Daze?

Holmes: Why, surely you recognize your own horse, Colonel?

Col.: Surely that is no joking matter, Mr. Holmes!

Holmes: I never jest, Colonel. Observe.

[Holmes walks up to #13, takes out a cloth, and wipes at #13's face, revealing the grey face of SIlver Daze, much to the astonishment of the jockey and Colonel Roast]

Col.: You take my breath away!

[Cut to the mice, who are lying prone on the track. Brain groggily lifts his head up and moans: ]

Brain: If you've taken his breath, can you give it to me? I've lost mine. [faints]

[Pinky's head struggles up, he emits a dazed "narf!" and he too faints. Fade to black.]


Act VII: The Winner's Circle

[We fade into an exterior shot of 221B Baker Street, which in turn dissolves into a shot of the drawing room. Colonel Roast is on one side of the fire, in a chair, while Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson are on the other side, Holmes smoking a pipe and Watson taking notes.]

Holmes: So you see, it's really quite simple. Both Wilkerson and Striker were in financial difficulties, Wilkerson from his embezzlements from the bank to feed his gambling habit, and Striker, with his expensive tastes in women's clothing...

[Cut to the cage, where Brain is in a purple robe, his head bandaged heavily. Pinky is right behind him, with his arm in a sling and a bandage over one eye.]

Brain: Wrong, wrong, wrong...

[Cut back to the human group.]

Holmes: They needed to score a major financial coup to regain solvency. So Wilkerson and Striker hatched out a scheme together to kidnap Silver Daze and fake the disappearance of Striker. Silver Daze's absence would dramatically shift the odds. Hence Mr. Wilkerson's shadowy appearance on the night in question.

[Cut back to the mice]

Brain: A misreading of the evidence...

[Cut back to the humans]

Holmes: And, of course, it was Striker who drugged the food. The whole thing unraveled when Silver Daze, with that great natural instinct for danger, resisted and threw her shoe, enabling me to trace where she had gone. With Striker out of the way...

[Cut back to the mice]

Brain: No thanks to you, my dear Holmes...

[Cut back to the humans]

Holmes: I secured Silver Daze, and preserved her incognito, so as to foil Wilkerson's last efforts to knock Silver Daze out of the race. [Holmes puts his pipe in his mouth, and sits back in triumph.]

Colonel: But what of that "Mr. Grates"? He appears to have disappeared into thin air. Surely he was involved in this plot!

Holmes: I fear that your Mr. Grates was my arch-nemesis, Prof. Moriarty, in disguise. The Yard found a billfold at the racetrack belonging to one "Mr. Grates", which would seem to indicate that Moriarty has abandoned his disguise in favor of hiding. I have informed the Yard of his disappearance, but I doubt anything will come of it.

[Cut back to the mice]

Brain: [sneering] Wrong again!

Pinky: Zounds, Brain, what *did* happen to Snowball?

Brain: Most likely, he has fled back to his master, and is plotting his next nefarious scheme. But worry not, Pinky, we shall be ready for him next time!

[Cut back to the humans]

Colonel: Wonderful! [Pauses] I only wish Mr. Dupin and Dr. Columbo were here. I would reward them handsomely...

Watson: Oh, I'm sure they got their just reward, Colonel.

Holmes: [lighting his pipe] I'm sure they got just that, gentlemen!

[The humans chuckle over this. Cut back to the cage, where Brain stalks away angrily from the edge of the cage.]

Brain: Laugh while you can, gentlemen. Your mirth will only last until tomorrow night.

Pinky: Why, Brain? What are we going to do tomorrow night?

Brain: [picking up a little mouse-sized violin and bow] Tomorrow night? The same thing we do every night, Pinky... [Cut to a close up of the Brain] Try to take over the world!

[Brain shoulders the violin, and starts to play the PatB closing theme. We cut to the outside of 221B in a high shot, as we hear: "They're dinky, they're Pinky and the Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain....", followed by a brief snatch of violin music. Iris out.]


This document is Copyright (C) 1996 by Michael K. Neylon ( and Eric O. Costello ( All rights reserved.

The characters of Pinky and the Brain, Animaniacs and related ones are copyright and trademark Warner Bros. Animation, and are used without permission. Their use within this work of fiction is in no way, meant to infringe or steal that copyright, nor to dilute the characters themselves. No profit on the part of the author is made from this document, and this document is used only for entertainment purposes. If there is any legal problems with this document, please contact the authors to make arrangements to take of these legal difficulties.

The character of Sherlock Holmes and related characters are the creation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

This work may be freely distributed in any media as long as it is not altered for its original form, and that no money is charged for the document itself. It may be included on any archive collection under the same terms.

Thanks to Andrew J. "NeuCoyote" Chinnici ( and Andrew "Trakko" Fram ( for proofing and suggestions.

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