Sherlock Oneshots

Drugged

{ A•N finally! a otterlock oneshot:3 }

All hail: Otterlock

"Tea?" John pondered out loud to his flatmate. Sherlock was slumped onto his armchair, slender legs draped over the leather arm.

"Yup." He smirked, popping the 'P' in a childish manner. John merely glared at him, waiting for a following response, "Please." Sherlock muttered. John grabbed two cups and began the tea cycle. The regime of making tea took several minutes, and John, finally with the steaming tea, went into the sitting room, burning his knuckles on the edge of the porcelain mugs. Handing Sherlock his tea, John sat down in his chair, opening his blog up on his laptop and placing the mug onto the table.

Sherlock took a gulp, menacing at the - not temperature - but taste, and choked down the revolting flavour.

"What the Hell did you put in this?" Sherlock squirmed, leaping out of his chair and running to the kitchen.

"Just what I usually put in. Why what's wrong with it?" John reached over for his own cup, as Sherlock rummaged through cupboards and drawers.

"You used the wrong sugar, John. The one you put in was an experiment I have been working on," Sherlock soghed, "It's drugged." John spat out the drink; half of it choking him, half on the carpet.

"Drugged?" John demanded, "You could've warn me, Jesus."

"Don't worry, it's harmless. Just one problem, though."

"What?"

"I haven't found a cure for it." Sherlock mumbled.

"Cure?" John growled, standing up and walking over to Sherlock, "What. Do. You mean. By a cure?"

"It's a drug which.. uhmm. Do you want to sit down, John?"

"I am fine, just tell me."

"It tranforms you. Into a animal."

"Excuse me?" Before Sherlock could say anything, John's face went from fuming to dismay and was pointing to Sherlock's cheek.

"Whiskers.." John muttered. Sherlock reached to his cheek, and felt whispy hairs form across his pale cheeks; which, were infact, turning brown and furry. Sherlock looked up, to see John's nose growing slightly, and turning a golden brown. Both men were feeling incredibly dizzy and tired, and soon enough, both were flat on their backs in the kitchen.

~

John awoke on a hard surface, and stretched his limbs. Well, attempted. His arms and legs felt very small and slightly rigid; he blinked his blurry eyes open, and looked towards his paws.

'Hang on. Paws?' John pondered alarmingly. He looked up wearily, and noticed how tall everything was, as if he was lying next to skyscrapers! Managing to stand up on his petit paws, John looked around for Sherlock. John didn't know what animal he really was, but those thoughts shattered when Sherlock snook behind and yelled: "Bam!"

John curled into a ball of spikes. A hedgehog, then. He peeked from under his skin, and saw bright blue eyes deducing the hedgehog. Uncoiling himself, John noticed what animal Sherlock was.

"I always secretly compared you to a otter, Sherlock." John chuckled, uncurling his-self fully. Sherlock glared at John and pattered off to the kitchen table. With one giant leap, Sherlock jumped onto a pulled out chair, clambered onto the table and tottered to his microscope. John hobbled over to the table, and stood next to the side which Sherlock was on. Looking up, he called for Sherlock. The clumsy otter spun round on the wood to look down at John, but his tail whacked his microscope off the table; the object almost flattened John!

"John! Are you alright?" Sherlock yelled, leaping down and delicatley tiptoeing over the glass to a shell-shocked hedgehog.

"I'm fine, I'm fine honestly," John said, as Sherlock circled the smaller mammal for any injuries, "What about your microscope? Don't we need it too find a reversable drug for our current state?"

"Ah, yes. Mrs Hudson will have to buy another one for us." Sherlock muttered, waving of the subject. John inspected Sherlock as a otter, and realised that a mass of curly hair was lopped on his furry head. Vice versa, Sherlock deduced Johns' hedgehog form, and noted that John was still wearing his cream wooly jumper over half his prickles.

As if on cue, Mrs Hudson popped through the door of their flat and - stumbling over the mess of glass in the kitchen - squealed when she saw the small hedgehog and otter in the middle of the kitchen.

~

With the situation explained, Mrs Hudson went out to buy a new microscope for the boys, and insisted on cutting out a blue scarf made out of felt for Sherlock. Before she left, she ran the bath with luke-warm water for Sherlock to swim in, whilst he thought about a way to get out the animal forms. Sherlock pounced into the water and 'experimented' with his new skills of swimming perfectly under water. After a while, he became bored and decided to enter his mind palace; Sherlock lay on his back and rested his paws under his chin.

John toddled into the bathroom to make sure Sherlock was staying out of trouble, and scaled the books - which Sherlock used to climb into the bath - to reach the edge of the tub. Noticing Sherlock was in his mind palace, John sat quietly inbetween the taps, and thought for himself. A sudden thought struck John like lightning.

'Why wasn't Sherlock angry when his microscope smashed on the floor earlier? And why fuss over me?'

"You have questions." Sherlock began, opening his bright eyes to look at John, "Fire away."

"Oh, uhmm ok. I was just wondering, aren't you angry about your microscope?"

"Why should I when I-" John glared at him, his eyes as sharp as the quills on his back, "Mrs Hudson - kindly - can simply replace it for me."

"Surely you're upset, though. Oh, wait, you're a sociopath, I forgot(!)" John remarked sarcasticay, which was returned with Sherlock rolling his eyes, "It's one of the things you care about."

"Do you think you are not something I care about, John?"

John was speechless, unsure of what to say next.

"Oh, well, uhmmm. Wh- why wou-"

"Because you are the only person who I can trust because you understand me so well. Every other flat mate I have had walked out on me in a matter of two hours, but you stayed with me, which I am eternally grateful for." Sherlock spoke, leaping out of the tub and pulling the towel for the rail with his sharp teeth. The towel landed ontop of his body, as he spun around and tangled up into a mass of fabric and fur. John, hesitantly with a sigh, made his way down the books and tumbled towards the towel. With a mere 'stay still', John dragged the towel off the Sherlock, and giggled at the messy-haired otter infront of him.

~

As the day proceeded to dark, Sherlock and John developed their new qualities as animals and were quite used to the smaller, weaker limbs and muscles. All John wanted to do now was sit in his comfortable chair and relax, but was baffled at the task of climbing the armchair. Sherlock - not very sentimentally - felt sorry for his flatmate; for John had developed a smaller species of mammal, compared to his otter form. He ran over to John's chair with an idea, and began tugging files ( which he had left on the floor last week ) towards the armchair, and constructed a flight of stairs. Sherlock lied next to the small file at the opposite end of the chair, and patiently waited. John, who had watched Sherlock build the stair of files, quizically glanced at Sherlock.

"Climb on my back." Sherlock said, his patience dissolving thin.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard, John. Just step on my back." John did as he was told, and lightly stood on his fury back. Sherlock rose from this lying position onto his fours', and John walked off Sherlock, onto the files. He happily curled into a ball of spines as he reached his chair seat, and let only his eyes peak through. A heavy weight landed next to John, and caused the seat to bounce slightly. Sherlock curled next to his spiney friend, careful not to spike his-self, and wrapped his tail around his body, but mainly Johns'. The hedgehog muffled a warm 'thankyou' and both animals drifted into a pleasent sleep.