Hey guys, I'm really happy to update for you, as its been a rough week (THREE school projects, I tell you! AND it's exam season. To those of you with exams, I wish you the best of luck :) )

We also had Student Council elections, and suffice it to say that I lost VP and now am running off for Representative Monday, I need some good cheer. Losing is apparently not easy. :P

Here's the 2nd part of the crackfic I promised. Enjoy! (There will be one more part)

"Sherlock?" John calls up the stairs, praying that Smaug was up in his rightful place, "Sherlock, I got the milk!"

Approaching the door a little warily when no answer is forthcoming, John opened it in one quick motion. Nothing.


Depositing the milk in the fridge (ignoring the severed toes), John knocks on Sherlock's bedroom door, "Sherlock?"

No answer.

Opening it, and feeling even more suspicious, John beholds the sight in front of him.

Frisking about the room is a gigantic, Sherlock-sized, black cat.

John closes the door. Opens it again. Closes it. Tries to breathe. Breathes. Blinks. Opens the door to meet a faceful of long, furry tail.

The consequent spluttering reminds him that this is actually happening, and that he needs to figure out what happened, and why.

"Sherlock?" he queries, smiling and trying to make a joke of it, "Well, I always did think your spirit animal was a cat."

Sherlock turns away after hissing at his flatmate.

"Do you know how this happened?"

Sherlock-the-Cat gives him a 'duh' look.

"Do you know how we can fix it?"

He shakes his head 'no'.

"Good. Not good! I meant not good," John fixes, the automatic statement a bit 'not good'.

After being hissed at again, John crosses the room to his doctor's bag.

"Well, I'm not a veterinarian, but I'll take your vitals, and if everything seems to be in order, we'll just have to wait for it to wear off. Or call Lestrade," John jokes, "But he's always been more of a dog person."

The cat regards him coldly, clearly finding nothing funny about his condition. After John declares him 'alright, in the wrong state', the doctor goes to his own room, promising to check on him in a few hours.

However, it isn't an hour after John's in bed and wondering if Sherlock was really a cat that he heard noises. His door, at first slightly open, was widening.

John froze, hand groping for the gun on his bedside table in the gloom of night. "Who's there?"

A great black shadow reared up...

And deposited its paws on his bed.

"Sherlock," John breathed, "Don't do that!"

Sherlock simply purred, wrapping the entirety of his warm body around John like his favorite sweater would. If his sweater were a feline.

"What are you-?"

Sherlock purred even louder, and John decided to let him be, dropping off to sleep in minutes himself.

Smaug crept back into the flat.

I will eventually respond to reviewers(because I love you)...I promise! But for right now, I'm going to go wallow in some chocolate and obsessively check my email for reviews, which you guys will hopefully give me, if I did a good job with the chapter. Apparently, I get wordier when sad. And cheesier. Curse of the writer. Anyway, solider on through exams if you're in high school, and enjoy summer (everyone!)

xoxo Brenda