"Sherlock, what the hell is this?" John was barely controlling his anger.

"An experiment, John," Sherlock replied.

"What sort of experiment?"

"This wasn't exactly the intended result, John."

"Hmm, yeah. I seem to have shrunk two feet, my feet wouldn't even fit in clown shoes. And I have hair. Everywhere. I had guessed that this wasn't the 'intended result.'"

"Yes, and I have a tail, horns, and small wings. Thank you for pointing out the obvious, John. Now, I need to explore this further! The wings are obviously too small to support my full body weight in flight, but I must be able to do something with them."


"And the tail! Oh, the possibilities! An extra appendage! This opens up so many doors! We need to determine where all of this extra matter came from."

John's degree of impatience was increasing. "Sherlock."

Sherlock was pacing around the room now. Every few moments his new tail would knock something off a table, but Sherlock was unaware. "This extra mass! Where did it come from? It obviously wasn't pulled from the rest of my body."

"Sherlock Holmes!"

"And the muscle control! I've sprouted completely new organs!..."

John finally gave up on trying to get Sherlock's attention and made his way to the stairs up to his bedroom. Navigating them with such large feet was difficult, and John was unused to his smaller size, so it took him a bit longer and a few more bruises than usual. The clothes hadn't shrunk with the man, so John had to roll up his trouser legs to accommodate for his smaller stature.

Finally, John reached his room. He had to roll up his sleeves for his hands to even be able to grasp the doorknob. He tugged open his door, finally able to turn the knob, and padded silently into it. Hauling himself up on his bed- more of a challenge than usual, he put his back against the headboard and stretched his legs out in front of him, to take stock of all the changes.

He started from his feet- huge. Well, maybe not for a human-sized person, but John was about three and a half feet tall and his feet were sized for an average male. So- huge.

John added that to his mental list. Huge feet. Shorter than normal (by a lot). Looking at his feet further, he realized that they were absolutely covered with curly brown hair. He couldn't see his legs under his rolled up trousers, so he leaned over and pulled up the cloth to look at his ankle. They were covered with the same hair, though a little thinner, and he could guess that the rest of his legs were the same. Looking at his forearms, as he had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, he saw that his arms were hairy too. He added Everything hairier than normal to his list.

At his point, John was so frustrated that he decided to go back downstairs, cut off Sherlock's spieling, and demand some answers and to be changed back to normal. Making sure his trouser legs and sleeves were securely rolled up, he cinched his belt much tighter around his shrunken waist and began to make his way back downstairs.

Only to be greeted by a sight that turned his frustration into exasperation. Sherlock was suspended over the couch. Hanging, John saw, by his tail. His tail. That he had "accidentally" grown with a few chemical concoctions. The same ones that turned John into a short, hairy ball of rage.

John shook his head and placed his hands over his eyes. Living with Sherlock was never dull, that was certain.

"Sherlock…" John hoped that this would lead Sherlock to explain.

"John. I seem to be stuck." Sherlock replied. He was folded in two, like a jackknife, looking at John sideways as he lightly swayed from his tail.

"I can see that. Why?"

"An experiment." Sherlock's short answers belayed his hidden confusion and slight anxiety. Confusion at how his experiment went wrong and anxiety from hanging from the ceiling by his new tail, seemingly unable to get down.

"An experiment. I thought you were already in the middle of an experiment. Hence your tail and wings. And my... height issue. And the hair."

"Yes. I'm conducting an experiment in the midst of another experiment. I need to find the limitations of my new appendages!" Sherlock said that a little too exuberantly, with hand motions, as his wings flapped lightly, and his swinging became a little more energetic.

"Really, Sherlock?"

"It was an opportunity I couldn't waste, John!" Sherlock began to swing even more.

"Okay, okay Sherlock. Just stop flapping your arms. They're not slowing you down. We need to get you down from there. What were you even trying to accomplish?"

"I needed to see if my tail could support my body weight," He said tail as if it was a normal body part to have.

"And you decided to do that by tying your tail to a hook in the ceiling and kicking the couch out from under you?"

"I didn't intend to move the couch away. That was a cause of the…"


"I do not flail, John."

"Then how did the couch get moved?"

"… Erratic exaggerated leg movement."

John placed his hand over his eyes. "Oh god, Sherlock," he muttered.

"Now that we've established the situation, could you assist me in returning to the ground?" Sherlock finally asked, after a moment of silence between the two men.

"Well Sherlock, in case you hadn't noticed, you've shrunk me to three feet tall! And I'm not even going to mention the hair!"

"John, this really isn't the time to make the situation about you. I'm in a little bit of a tight spot right now. Your issues can wait."

"Sherlock. How am I supposed to help you down when I'm the size of a five year old?!"

"Stand on the couch!"

"Sherlock, I'll still be barely tall enough to touch your knee, much less the ceiling!"

"Helping people is your job, John, not mine! Figure it out!"

Three hours and a confused DI Lestrade later, Sherlock was back on the ground and John was back to his normal height, also having shed the hair. John would need to sweep that up later.

"Sherlock, just get rid of it!"

"John, there are still experiments I need to perform!"

"Sherlock, you can't keep them!" John had been returned completely to normal after some chemical mixture he'd had to inject. Sherlock, however, was refusing to get rid of his… modifications.

"There's so much I still don't know, John! I need to finish testing these. I can't get rid of them now!"

"For god's sake, Sherlock, you can't keep the tail!"

"But John!" Sherlock sounded like John was expecting him to throw his first-born into the Thames.

"Sherlock Holmes, if you don't get rid of the tail, wings, and horns right now, I will call your brother. You're not a bloody dragon, for god's sake!"

"You'd bring Mycroft into this, John? That's low, even for you."

"Yes, I'll bring Mycroft into this. And have him give me the phone number for your mother. So get rid of them now!"

"Mummy. You're really threatening me with Mummy?" Sherlock gave John an incredulous, somewhat pleading look.

John pulled himself into his military captain's posture and turned his request into an order. "Yes, I am. So get. Rid. Of. Them. Now."

Sherlock ducked his head and whined like a child. "Fine. But I expect something interesting from the morgue to make up for this inconvenience." He said this like John was expecting him to get rid of a suspicious petri dish, instead of a tail. John watched Sherlock create and take the injection, to make sure Sherlock actually did it. However, though John watched Sherlock mix the chemicals, he had no idea which chemicals Sherlock mixed or what the effects were.

Luckily, though Sherlock couldn't keep the tail and wings, the horns were easier to hide in his unruly hair. John wouldn't notice for a while, so that would be an argument for a different day.

Sherlock was lucky John was no chemist.

A/N: I started writing this one day after taking a test, and I finished it over a few days in my Creative Writing elective. Thanks to my friend Julianna, ThisIsALegitUsername on ffnet, for giving me some help with the ending! Go read her Sherlolly AU! Also, please review! I'd love for you readers to give me some feedback! Anything will do! ~YouAreNowEnteringTheVoid