Chemical Reactions (Dragonlock/Hobbitlock)

John woke up to clattering downstairs. One of Sherlock's experiments.

John rubbed his eyes and yawned. John threw his feet off the bed and into his slippers. He slowly made his way downstairs.

Already downstairs, Sherlock was experimenting with some "mystical, middle earth genes" that had been given to him. Sherlock researched it and apparently every person had a counterpart thing, whether it be a hobbit, elf or even a tree.

Sherlock deduced that the gene was some sort of fake, but there was always a chance it wasn't. Sherlock heard the loud clunking of feet on the stairs before a groggy John Watson came into the room.

"John will you help me with an experiment?" Sherlock asked, if it did work, he wanted to know what John was.

"Sure mate," John replied.

Sherlock had checked and there was no poisons or germs in the liquid so they weren't going to die.

John got up and walked over to Sherlock, he seemed like he was still half asleep.

Sherlock got out two syringes and filled them both with the gene. Sherlock went first because if there was something wrong with it he didn't want John to be hurt.

After a few seconds of nothing Sherlock decided it was safe and carefully grabbed John's arm. He inserted the needle and let the liquid flow into the vein.

Sherlock them felt a strange prickling sensation on all of his skin. He looked down and his arm was turning red and scaly.

What creature is this!

Sherlock thought to himself. Sherlock suddenly caught sight of a very much awake, very much shrinking John. John was staring at Sherlock and Sherlock was staring at John.

Sherlock suddenly felt a bone move inside his body. Sherlock suddenly felt nauseous and sick, as well as tired. His back prickled and his backbone.

"Sherlolock," John stuttered his words, "Im'ma lie down." With that John turned and walked to the couch and fell, his hair getting longer and his feet getting larger.

Sherlock's hazy mind swirled with thoughts.

What creature are you? Why are you red? Hobbit John. What is on my back? Tired. Sleep. No sleep outside on roof.

Sherlock obeyed his groggy mind and climbed up onto the roof somehow, before he lay down and fell asleep.

When John awoke he went to get up only to realize he was short and his feet were very large and hairy. John jumped to his feet before he realized how short he really was. John was about three feet tall, but his proportions were the same (aside from the feet and amount of hair). John crawled back on the couch and gave up. He tried to fall back asleep. He assumed it was some sort of hallucinogenic drug Sherlock had gave him.

On the roof Sherlock, who had given himself a bigger dose, was waking up. Sherlock found himself the top of some small box. He looked up. He could see a huge red scaly snout in front of his face. Sherlock froze he looked down. He was on top of his flat not a small box. Sherlock tried to stand up and ended up falling back down with a huge thud. Sherlock lifted his arm to touch his snout, when he realized his hand was made up of claws and an extra bone shot backwards and upwards, a wing. Sherlock stretched out his arm and the extra bone flung outward creating a huge expanse of wing area. Sherlock drew his wing back in.

Sherlock looked down at himself. He was a dragon. Sherlock was a huge dragon. He was suddenly aware of a moving appendage behind him. He turned his long neck and looked at the long sharp tail that whipped behind him. On the end of the tail was a barbed tip. Sherlock tested pulsing the new muscles and watched how his tail moved. The consulting detective suddenly heard a groan from the building below him. He knew the building could barely support his new weight.

Sherlock reached one long arm down. He could reach the ground. He placed both arms on the ground and he flung his feet off the back of the building with a huge thud that someone mistook for an earthquake.

Sherlock suddenly thought of how he could hide himself. Sherlock thought of Mycroft's house. There was a large open area enclosed by the building that Sherlock assumed he could hide in.

How was he going to get there?

Sherlock leaned back, trusting his hind legs before he flung the extra bones he had acquired out creating very stable looking wings. He flapped them down experimentally.

No one would report a dragon bigger than two jumbo jets. Nobody would believe them.

With that thought Sherlock jumped into the air as hard as he could and thrust his wings down, giving him a surprising amount of lift. Sherlock thrust his wings down again before he heard a scream of someone on the other side of Baker street.

Sherlock had gained a sufficient amount of lift, he thought, before he tilted his body towards Mycroft's house and started gliding. Sherlock thrust his wings down multiple times to keep height before he glided. The wind howled against his body and his scales felt invigorated.

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How do you guys like it so far?

I hope you loved it, I am sorry for any misspellings or grammar errors, my phone's spell check failed.

(things in isolated italics are thoughts)

Thanks for reading!