I do not own Sherlock or any associated characterS!

John was going to murder Sherlock. Slowly and oh so fucking painfully.

Mycroft too for that matter

He knew leaving Sherlock alone in a government facility was a bad idea, but no Mycroft had to speak to him, in private and now, we'll, it didn't bear thinking about.

It'd been a somewhat normal day for the residents of 221b Baker Street, John was busy blogging about a double homicide committed by the gardener whilst Sherlock sat at the table, conducting an experiment on something or other that he'd stolen (borrowed John, borrowed) during their Mycroft visit.

A startled yelp and a bang had caused John to leap to his feet as he sprung for the kitchen, acutely aware of just how badly Sherlock's experiments could go, especially when explosions where involved. Unfortunately for the doctor, he was just in time for the second wave of combustion, and a thick, purple sludge splattered across his face and chest before he lost consciousness.

When John came too, his head was pounding like it hadn't in years and he could feel something smooth and velvety soft slapping his cheeks.

"John. Wake up!" A voice that sounded like Sherlock if he'd inhaled a canister of helium demanded, and the blows to his cheeks got a little sharper until he submitted and opened his eyes, only to shut them moments later. Looming over him was a dark, distinctly weasel like face.

"Sherlock, I think I need a doctor, I'm hallucinating. You look like some sort of weasel" the doctor groaned, jolting when the voice that sounded from his throat was most definitely not his

"I'm an otter" the sherlock on helium said "and no, you're not hallucinating, I was experimenting with a new serum that allows human to animal communication, unfortunately, when mixed with sodium the compound becomes unstable" a long suffering sigh accompanied his explanation and John could practically hear the accompanying eye roll.

"You mean you've turned us into OTTERS?!" John yelled trying to roll him onto all fours

"No John, I'm an otter, you, we'll, you're a hedgehog" came the reply and the smirk in his voice was unmistakeable.

The ensuing squeak made hedgehog John flush with embarrassment and otterlock as John had mentally titled him chuckled before rolling his spiny companion to his paws.

"How long until it wears off?"

"I'm not entirely sure, it could be a few hours, on the other hand, it may be slightly more uh, permanent?"

Johnhog's growl of frustration echo'd in the now huge kitchen.

Personally, Sherlock thought his doctor looked incredibly cute as a snuffly woodland creature, not that he was going to voice that thought when John looked ready to murder him.

It had been at least an hour, and Sherlock was starting to get bored, he'd spent a good half an hour scampering across the floor, giddy at mastering a new body, unfortunately, the novelty had fast warn off.

The otter had been sighing every 5.3 seconds for the last six minutes

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" John asked, scowling at how utter ridiculous his voice sounded, oh if only his platoon could see him now...

"I miss having opposable thumbs, I can't conduct experiments without opposable thumbs, JAAAAWN why don't I have opposable thumbs?!" Wailed Sherlock

"BECAUSE YOU TURNED YOURSELF INTO A BLOODY OTTER, THAT'S WHYYPU DON'T HAVE OPPOSABLE FUCKING THUMBS, SHERLOCK!" John yelled, glaring at his flatmate.

Sherlock was blissfully silent for all of about two minutes before

"JAWN I'm tired"

"Go to sleep then"

It was blissfully silent for a minute before the click of claws on wood sounded, and John felt the softness if Sherlock's fur against his stomach

"What're you..." John began only to be cut off by Sherlock;

"Otters are social creatures, John. We apparently like to cuddle when we sleep"

This time, it was John's turn to sigh, though he offered no protest when he felt his otter shaped friend curl around him making little cooing sounds as he did so allowing himself to relax against the warmth as tiny eyes drifted closed.

It was dark when John awoke, and the first thing he noticed was the spry breeze and the fact the kitchen was now a normal size, of course the erection pressing against his stomach and the soft snores of a man were second on his list of observations.

Sherlock, naked as the day he was born was still wrapped around the army doctor and it was his erection John could feel -though his own arousal was pretty apparent too- and as he snuggled deeper into Sherlock's chest, hedecidedthat just maybe, he might not kill the Holmes brothers just yet...

finished! Please review, and apologies for any spelling/formatting issues, I wrote this on an iPad that doesn't have spell check .