Edited by softpurplesherlokian

Pocket John

A Tiny Problem

Chapter 1

"Tweleve Centimeters"

It was just past midnight when John decided to turn the telly off and bid his flatmate goodnight. Sherlock often stayed up into the wee hours of the evening working on various experiments, John gave up learning what they all were. He didn't mind so long as Sherlock didn't blow anything up, although the body parts in the fridge often enraged him as well.

"Oh, John, before you go, tomorrow morning I'm going to see Lestrade about a new case. Care to join me?"

"Sure, I have the day off tomorrow anyway." John had taken every opportunity he could to follow Sherlock around as he sleuthed; his deduction skills had fascinated John to the core. "What is it you're doing by the way?" John looked at the kitchen table covered in various tubes and beakers containing odd colored liquids.

"Just experimenting."

"I see." John had picked up a small beaker with a clear blue liquid in it, it seemed harmless enough but if Sherlock was involved it likely wasn't.

"Do be careful with that." Sherlock said in his baritone voice without looking up at him.

John went to place the beaker back where it had been when Sherlock suddenly jolted up pushing the table away from him. John lost his grip as the table hit his still partially limping leg sending him into a fit of pain. The beaker shattered on the table as John instinctively grabbed the edge to balance himself, cutting his hand on a glass shard.

"My god, did you see it?" Sherlock's voice had an unusual tone to it.

"What? No, bloody hell Sherlock-"

"It was massive! The biggest rat I have ever seen right at my feet!" Sherlock crouched to the floor to see where it had gone to no avail. "John? You alright?"

"Shite, no, I've broken that damn beaker and sliced my hand up."

"Let me see." Sherlock approached him abruptly and grabbed his hand. "Won't need stitches, you should go wash and bandage it though."

"I do have medical training you know." The doctor was a tad annoyed with his flatmate at his remark.

Sherlock turned around to continue his experiment but stopped in his tracks before facing John again, his expression completely changed but near impossible to read. "Which beaker did you break?"

"Well to be fair you jumped up with no warning."

"JOHN! Which beaker!?" John could tell know that Sherlock was indeed mad.

"A small one, clear blue liquid inside."

At that Sherlock's eyes jolted to the table making sure it really was the beaker John said it was. He then grabbed his flatmate's hand once more. "Wash and bandage it now."

Something in Sherlock's tone frightened John, "Alright, alright, I'm doing it."

Sherlock could hear John in the other room as he treated the cut, he sat quietly staring at his laboratory equipment, his mind raced.

'It was just a cut, it's not like he drank it.' Sherlock thought to reassure himself, but somehow that didn't make his worry disappear. 'Well, there's no point in telling John until I know for sure if there will be any affects.'

John woke to a loud booming noise. 'The devil is that racket?'

"Sherlock?" there was no response.

He rubbed his eyes before realizing his surroundings had completely changed, or so he thought. Instead of his bed, John was laying on a massive white surface covered in an equally huge sheet. It was as if he had been kidnapped in the night and placed on the world's largest bed. The booming sound continued. John looked up, seeing his situation was growing dimmer. Furniture the size of skyscrapers lined what looked to be walls millions of kilometers high. Even Moriarty couldn't pull off something like that.

"John!" Sherlock's voice seemed impossibly loud.

John turned to see over a mountain of blanket-looking fabric, and there stood Sherlock, too large to even fathom.

"I'm….I'm dreaming." John was uncertain.

"Damn, I was afraid of this."

"W-what? What's going on? Why are you so big?"

Sherlock looked down with what looked like guilt on his face. "John I… I'm very sorry about this. I did tell you to be careful with that beaker."

John lost his balance falling back onto the bed. "What are you saying?"

"Well, It appears some of the liquid from the beaker got into the cut on your hand last night."

It was starting to sink in what Sherlock was saying, "My god! You've shrunk me?!"

"It would appear so. Oh, and also you're naked if you weren't already aware."

"a- damn you!"

"I'll be back in a moment." Sherlock had left the room and from a loud bang further away it sounded as if he had left the apartment too.

John was left to his thoughts on an empty stomach and no clothes. Luckily it was only twenty minutes before the detective came back. By then John was wrapped in a blanket due to his lack of clothing.

"John, you wont believe this, it's astonishing really, but there is an incredibly impressive doll maker just two blocks away from here. John? You don't seem impressed."

"Can you fix me already?"

"Fix? Oh, you mean make you big again."

"Yes, some sort of antidote."

"Well John, I never thought that liquid would get into your system. There uh… there's no antidote. Not yet at least."

John's heart plummeted. "I'm stuck like this?!"

"For the moment, yes. Oh, but this doll maker, he's just incredible!"

"Sherlock! Stay focused!"

"I brought you this for now, I'll take you there later for something more fitting if you like. I don't know your um, current measurements." Sherlock placed a miniature outfit on the bed next to John. It looked like real clothing but made for doll. John quickly slipped into, already feeling much more comfortable that he at least had some dignity left. It was just simple brown pants and a dark green shirt.

Sherlock had been avoiding fully looking at John until now, he knew his tiny flatmate would be enraged if he stared at him while he was in the buff. But now he crouched down with his face level to the bed.

"You're so small John!" A light smile began to fill Sherlock's face.

"Please find an antidote Sherlock." John's voice was filled with worry.

"I'm working on it. Not sure when I can figure it out though." Sherlock put his hand palm up next to John.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you a ride to the kitchen."

John groaned but climbed into Sherlock's palm anyway, terrified that the detective would drop him. Sherlock was surprisingly gentle with John though, partially cupping his other hand over John's head for added protection. He placed John on the now empty kitchen table, then turned to the stove to make single fried egg.

As the egg fried, Sherlock brought over a measuring stick and propped it up next to a rather annoyed John.

"Very funny." Sherlock noticed John's voice in this state was much smaller then before. He could only hear him well when he was close to him.

"You're twelve centimeters tall if you were wondering."

John crossed his arms and gave Sherlock a stern look. But at twelve centimeters he hardly looked threatening.

Sherlock brought the egg over, cutting off a small piece for John, which was very large for him by comparison. Sherlock ate the rest, never being one for a big appetite.

"You have to eat more then that Sherlock."

"I'm on a case, you know I don't think when I'm eating." He put his hand on the table palm up.

John had already figured out this was the sign that Sherlock was moving and wanted to take John with him. "Where are we going?"

"I told you last night, I have a case I'm going to go ask Lestrade about."

"'Lock, you couldn't possibly think that-" John was cut off by a knock on their door.

Sherlock looked down at his miniature friend and scooped him up, "Hide." Sherlock placed him on the mantle. John scurried inside of the skull.

"Lestrade! I was just coming over."

"You're pretty late you know, you're never late when I have a case for you." Lestrade had a slightly confused face.

"Oh yes, well, I had some unexpected errands this morning."

"I see, well, I have a cab downstairs of you want to come to the crime scene with me. Where's John?" Lestrade had stepped past Holmes and into the flat expecting to see John sitting in the living room.

'Shit, Sherlock, don't tell him!' John prayed to himself.

"He's a bit under the weather today." Sherlock grinned to himself 'under everything in fact'

As Lestrade's eyes scanned the room John ducked his head behind the skull. The slight movement caught Lestrade's attention though.

"So about this case-"

"Hold on a moment, I thought I saw…" Lestrade stride towards the skull as John cowered behind it. He considered running for it if the skull was lifted, but when Lestrade picked it up, John was froze stiff. The DI's eyes widened tremendously. "John!?"

"…and by under the weather I mean shrunk." Sherlock muttered seeing Lestrade discovered their secret.

"John?" He said again with out looking away. "This can't be real." He placed the skull back down and clumsily scooped up John in his hands.

"Careful!" John didn't want anyone to know this had happened to him, but it was especially frustrating that he was tossed all over the place.

"Sherlock! What the bloody hell did you do to him!?"

"What? Why do you assume this is my fault? Granted you're very technically right, but still!" Sherlock quickly came over, taking John out of Lestrade's clumsy hands. "And be careful with him."

John felt strangely safer in Sherlock's hands, but grabbed his thumb for support anyway.

"He had an accident with a chemical is all, I'm working on an antidote." Sherlock placed John on an end table and proceeded to look John all over for any injuries caused by Lestrade.

"I'm fine Sherlock."

Sherlock was now fascinated about every aspect of John, he was just so unbelievably small. His actions and expressions so fragile. Sherlock felt his face warming and turned away.

"Are you ready to go to the crime scene now John?"

'Did Sherlock just blush?' John had caught the faint red of his friend's face before he looked away. "You can't be serious. Sherlock, people can't see me like this."

"You'll just be in my pocket John, besides, I don't think it's safe to leave you here alone." Sherlock began calculating all the potentially dangerous scenarios that could befall the miniature John.

John still didn't want to go, but the idea of being trapped on the table all day with no food and nothing to do was unbearable.

"Oh all right."

"You're kidding. You're gonna take him to a crime scene like that?" Lestrade was clearly still in shock.

"Lestrade, I swear I will never solve another case for you again if you tell a single soul about this." Sherlock lifted John up, carefully placing him in his breast pocket.

It was very warm and cozy in the detective's pocket and when John leaned his weight against Sherlock's chest he could hear the thumping of his heart. The taxi ride to the crime scene was filled with Lestrade's questions to Sherlock over what he had planned to do with John.

"People will notice he isn't around for a while wont they? Especially Mrs. Hudson, she'll notice for sure."

"Lestrade, you are an atrocious headache at times."

Sherlock would occasionally flip open the flap on his pocket and peer down at the sitting John to make sure he was okay. The new way in which Sherlock would look at John started to ease how he felt about being so small.

A/N: This is the brit picked update. The original version was not based on the Metric system and John's height was 5 inches- the height change has caused me to re write several scenes in the story.