An Awkward Situation....(a Sherlock story)

The explanation

"What the-"

The boy-Sherlock-waved his hand dismissively, "Yes, yes, I don't quite understand the biology of it either. No need to stammer."

John slowly made his way to Sherlock, then knelt down so he was at eye level. In his mind, he began to prepare a long, serious lecture, starting with, "Sherlock, this isn't possible, how did this happen?" but his words got stuck in his throat as he exploded with a half mortified, half confused laugh.

"What?" Sherlock demanded, his eyebrows burrowing defensively.

"It's just-you-you're so tiny!" John gasped between laughs, "I can't believe-what on earth did you do?"  

Rolling his eyes, the mini Sherlock made his way to his usual couch and crawled on top, kicking his legs impatiently, "There's no need to be in hysterics. And for your information, I knew exactly what I was doing when I drank the-"

"No you didn't!" John jumped, he'd almost forgotten the awkward man standing behind him, "You said before you drank the vile, 'this is the second time I've ever done something so stupidly blind in my life' I asked what the first one was and you said that time when-"

Sherlock silenced the man with a glare, which was rather adorable, coming from his young face. "If you're done laughing, we have more serious matters to address to-" his voice caught off as he searched the room, "John, where is my skull?"

"I hid it," John said, wiping tears out of his eyes as he managed to compose himself, "Don't you remember? I said I'd give it back when you got milk-hey-why didn't you get milk?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "Oh, I don't know, the line was too long and the milk was all expired, besides it wasn't the brand you-what do you think? You think I got de-aged then thought, 'wow, this is neat. I think I'll go and fetch some milk before returning home?'"

"Besides mate, we were in government property," The man explained, again awkwardly popping up out of nowhere, "All they had was skim."

"Government-alright," pointing to the man, he gestured to the couch, "sit down, I don't know you but sit down. Both of you are going to tell me what's going on."

It had been decades since John had attended Preschool. He only had vague memories of thick crayons and sleeping, but he felt like a preschool teacher now as the man obediently sat besides Sherlock. They both looked at him expectantly, like they were waiting for instructions, or permission to have a nap.

"Well?" John cleared his throat, suddenly subconscious, "Explain."

"I will explain," Sherlock sighed as the man opened his mouth, "I trust you remember the anonymous tipper. It made no sense at the time. Two completely different cases, both in different locations and different killers. It took me weeks to make the connection. Only after studying the autopsy for the fifth time did I realize both victims worked for a government facility. Obviously this could mean many things, but I narrowed it down to two positions. One, they could both possibly be in the military, they'd both had the experience required, but they each also had a masters in biology. Who would have a time for a masters in the military at their age? Obviously they both worked biologic related jobs, and since there are only five possible scientific facilities that require biology, I crossed each off until I got to the one. I knew you wouldn't approve of breaking and entering government property-though I still don't see why-so I made the excuse of fetching some milk, a task you've-are you laughing again?"

John cleared his throat, straightening his back as he tried his best to look serious. He was used to Sherlock's ramblings, but watching a child Sherlock do it was like watching Lestrade sing opera.

"Anyway," Sherlock continued, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was kicking his legs like an impatient preschooler, "as I neared the institute I met Ludovic,"

"That's me!" The man, Ludovic said with a jolt, as if he'd woken from a daze.

"Yes, yes, shut up. He explained to me that he was the tipper, and that he had been seeking out my help for weeks. His boss was suspicious of him already, so he couldn't contact me on his own terms. He sent clues that led me to him. Ludovic had been working as a biologist in the facility for years, he was one of the most trusted workers, and had access to almost the entire building. But he discovered a compound that was being worked on, a dangerous unstable compound that could only lead to disaster. However, he kept his thoughts to himself until about a month ago he overheard a conversation. Two men were discussing the compound, apparently, they'd been testing it on animals. All results proved to be negative. They then began to discuss two men, the two men who had in fact been murdered, hired by assassins. They'd both apparently not approved of the test and been taken care of. Which is why, of course, he reached out to me. He was in fact the one who pretended to discover the body's, he knew I couldn't resist."

Ludovic suddenly groaned, "Alright, this is takin' forever. Me an 'im broke in to get the compound, the guards found us. We panicked and Sherlock drank the vile before they could take it from 'im."

"You drank it?" John blurted as Sherlock sat dumbfounded. It seemed he wasn't used to being interrupted during his lengthy explanations.

Sherlock shrugged, "After the side affects," he gestured to his tiny frame, "happened, I was dazed and Ludovic somehow knew where I lived."

"Everyone knows where you live, 'yer the famous detective," Ludovic muttered shyly, staring at his feet.

"The call." John said suddenly, his mind buzzing.

Sherlock's sharp eyes met his, "Call? What call?"

"I got a call, just before you arrived. It must've been from the facility. They told me my-partner-you, were working for a traitor, and that they would find you."

Sherlock's eyes widened, large on his thin face, "What did they sound like?"

"Deep, strange. Dunno." John shrugged.

Sherlock jumped to his feet, adorably holding up his pants-which were basically sheets on him-as he began to pace, "He knows who we are. But we have the advantage, we have an inside man. John, get your coat, the game is-is,"

But whatever the game was, John didn't find out because Sherlock suddenly swayed and slumped to the ground.

"It's fine," Ludovic said, noticing Johns panicking eyes, "Side affect. I'm surprised he wasn't out sooner."

John sighed, lifting the sleepy Sherlock into his arms, and carried him up to his room. He gently pried off the coat, until all he wore was a rather large undershirt, and tucked him into bed.

"Alright," John said as he shut the door, "What do we do now?"

Ludovic was silent for a few moments, until his face lit up and he said rather excitedly, "Do you really have a decapitated hand? Sherlock said you did and I didn't believe him."

John sighed. It was going to be a long night.