Sorry, I completely forgot to put a disclaimer in the first chapter... Sooooo, yeah. I sadly don't own Sherlock or any if its characters. They belong to the BBC. Except for Steveson, he's mine. That's not a good thing though.

John slowly eased back into consciousness. He felt extremely warm and well rested. It could be assumed that this ordeal had exhausted him enough that he managed to sleep in. He hadn't been this well rested in years. He kept his eyes closed as he slowly eased out from underneath the covers. There seemed to be so many of them. That was odd, he usually ended up pushing most of his sheets off of the bed. How did he end up with all of these. Finally John opened his eyes, the sight that he was met with was enough to scare anyone to death.

Sherlock Holmes had been awake for several hours now, busying himself with his usual tasks. He wondered why John hadn't come down for breakfast yet. Of course the doctor was exhausted from the events of the previous day, but this was a bit late for even that to make sense. This was ridiculous. Sherlock was growing increasingly bored... And worried, not that he'd admit it. After all, he could've lost John just the day before. That thought chilled him to the bone, he really needed to go see what John was doing.

John tried and tried to fall bak asleep, to will the nightmare away. It just wasn't working. He couldn't deal with what was happening. He'd survived Afghanistan, he survived getting shot, and he survived being friends with Sherlock bloody Holmes. This, however, was too much. Of all the nightmares he'd experienced, he'd never felt this terrified. The thrill of a chase, the excitement of danger, all of that was gone. Nonexistent. Fear clouded his mind.

Everything around him was huge. His bed was the size of 10 story building; his alarm clock was bigger than him for Christ's sake! He knew it was a dream, it had to be. He was just overreacting to the comments made by Sherlock the other day. None of this was happening. Finally, John calmed down and sat back down on the bed, breathing deeply. Just as soon as he found peace, the terror itched back at him from the depths of his mind. Thunder erupted all around him. It sounded as though lightning must've struck barely 15 meters away. The room shook and his ears rang. He wished it would all stop. Instead, the sound got louder... And louder... And louder! Until finally, it stopped. John sighed a sigh of pure relief and turned to look towards the door where the sound was coming from.

He stilled.

Standing there, in the doorway, was Sherlock. Except, it wasn't Sherlock it was a giant version of Sherlock. A terrifyingly large and menacing creature. The terror returned, this time, he couldn't hide it or dismiss it as the nightmare he knew it was. Something about a human being that large was agonizing. John felt defenseless, lost, and confused. Even if this was a dream, it was Sherlock. Why would he be afraid of Sherlock? This was the one man he trusted with his life. The man he admired and cared for the most. Why on earth was he so afraid? Sherlock said something and approached him, a look of pure astonishment and shock decorated his now large features. John couldn't help but fall back and scatter back further into the bed. His instincts were apparently taking over, which, in this case, was bad. It's just Sherlock.

"John," the giant's- Sherlock's voice was so loud. He couldn't help but flinch. Sherlock stepped closer, carefully. He had his arms out in front of him. As if... As if he was trying to declare innocence or peace.

From the moment Sherlock stepped into the room, the detective knew something was wrong. John's bed was strangely empty, as was his bathroom. Suddenly, he stopped moving completely. His eyes fell on a heap of clothing laying under the sheets of John's bed. That was strange. Upon further inspection, he saw something moving. That's when he realized what that something was. A tiny man. The man turned to look at him and gasped, backing into the bed nervously. The man wasn't wearing clothes. John's clothes were left on the bed.

Then, it hit him. He squinted his eyes to get a better look at the remarkably small man. He needed to verify. With pure shock and dread, Sherlock noted that the man had sandy blonde hair. Just like John's. the man also had a large mass of scar tissue covering the majority of his shoulder. Just like John's. His awful conclusion, this man was John. Sherlock couldn't quite make out the expression on John's face. He was clearly no taller than 4 inches. From this distance, Sherlock could deduce almost nothing else. He needed to get closer.

Slowly, Sherlock stepped forward. He tried calling John's name to snap him out of his apparent shock. The reaction he received astonished him. John shuddered and backed away from him. He seemed terrified. Ok, time for a different approach. Sherlock slowly raised his hands in defeat and spoke John's name again. This time, John only flinched slightly. He looked a bit more relaxed as well. Sherlock continued to approach him slowly.

"John, I know that this frightening and beyond strange, but you have to trust me." Sherlock spoke softly, "I need to get a better look at you and we need to talk about this. It's the only way we'll figure this out."

John finally began to nod and stand back up. Quickly, however, he realized that he was completely nude. Sherlock suppressed a giggle as John tried to cover up. By then, Sherlock was at the edge of the bed. He leaned down carefully and looked at the approaching figure. John was trying desperately to stay covered as he trekked across the bed. Finally, the duo was face to face. The close proximity provided Sherlock with a lot more information. John was visibly frightened. Sherlock hated seeing John like this. He was usually so cool and in control. The only time he'd ever seen John act even remotely like this was Baskerville. This time, however, it was much worse. John was strangely silent.

"Do you have any memory of this happening?" He asked, hoping for an answer.

John simply shook his head.

"John, please, if we are going to figure this out, then you need to talk to me."

John was unsettled by Sherlock's tone and approach. It was caring. Sherlock was never caring. Well, he never showed that he was. He tried to think of something to say, anything, but he couldn't his mind was simply shot.

"John." Sherlock repeated, this time, he was much louder. Clearly losing patience or growing worried. He sounded so loud. John quickly covered his ears and fell back down onto the bed. Sherlock breathed out softly, "Sorry, I didn't realize that-"

"I'm fine. Everything is just... Really loud. And big."

Sherlock smiled, glad to have some sort of reaction.

"Is this funny to you?" John asked, suddenly fuming.

"Of course not, this is extremely inconvenient." Finally, they were back to their usual selves.

"Inconvenient. You're not the one the size of a bloody borrower!"

"A what?"

"They're in movies- NEVERMIND." John stumbled around furiously, "how do we fix this?"

"I'm honestly not sure. I haven't received your blood sample yet, and I'm sure those bumbling bafoons at the hospital haven't come up with anything yet." Sherlock looked John over one more time, "For now, we'll need to get you some clothes." John blushed vigorously.

Without warning, Sherlock reached down towards him. John sunk back nervously. "What are you doing?" He asked frantically.

"Relax, I was just going to offer to take you downstairs. There is no point in staying up here."

"But I'm..." He gestured down at his body.

"So? I said that we'll find you clothes. For now, you'll have to live with this." Before John could react, Sherlock's long fingers wrapped around his small form.

"Sherlock! Put me down, this is beyond humiliating." John fought with all of his might, but he could not escape Sherlock's grasp. He suddenly felt really light headed. "Sherlock, stop! I can't breathe." Immediately, Sherlock's grip loosened. John felt himself fall into the palm of Sherlock's other hand. He caught his breath and quickly grabbed onto Sherlock's thumb.

"Better?"

John looked up at Sherlock, the man was trying extremely hard to look calm. "Yes."

Just then, Sherlock began to stand up and walk away. John felt himself teeter unsteadily. Complete weightlessness consumed him, he began to feel ridiculously off balance. He felt Sherlock's other hand envelope his back, keeping him from falling. Finally, they were downstairs. Sherlock gently placed John on the kitchen counter.

"I'll be right back." He said smoothly, turning to leave.

"Wait, where are you going? You can't just leave me here." John looked completely astonished. 'To think that he'd just leave!'

"I'm just going downstairs. There are some doll clothes in 221 C. Mrs. Hudson's niece left her doll house there a few years ago. "

"Doll clothes?"

"What would you suggest?"

John sighed, "nothing, just... Hurry up, please."

Sherlock nodded and bounded out. John took this time to take in his surroundings. It was kind of remarkable, seeing the kitchen at this height. He quickly regretted admiring the fruit on the table. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was... John noticed that Sherlock had left a seemingly untouched piece of toast and a cup of tea out on the table. He swiftly made his way over to it and checked to make sure it wasn't contaminated. (Knowing Sherlock, it wouldn't be much of a surprise...) However, it seemed safe enough, so John began to break off bits of the toast. It was surprisingly easy to eat it, not to mention very filling at this size. He even managed to scoop some tea with his hands and sip it. The tea was still warm and just the way he liked it, with milk and a decent bit of sugar. John sat back against the cup contentedly. This new size made everything rather exhausting. That was when it all hit him, what if he is actually stuck at this size. How on Earth would he manage? Sherlock could barely take care of himself, let alone a small human being. John's nerves suddenly flared once again. This was a rather agonizing experience...

He could hear the door to the flat swinging open and then a (thankfully) soft thump as it shut. Sherlock strode into the kitchen holding various items in his hand. He laid out a small pair of trainers, a tiny blue sweatshirt, and a pair of velcro blue jeans.

"The shoes are probably too big, but I figured it was worth a try. It would seem that they don't make socks/ undergarments in your size..." Sherlock quickly set down the rest of what he was carrying. A tiny blanket, pillow, and plastic mug. "I figured that these might be of use to you as well."

"Yes, well, thanks." John said as he began to put on the clothes. The shoes didn't fit, just as Sherlock predicted, but everything else worked out quite well.

"It took me a while to find pants that weren't too long. Most of the male apparel was for Ken dolls, which are still much bigger than you." He explained.

"I appreciate the effort," John said casually.

Sherlock continued to watch John as he grabbed the small mug and dunked it into the tea cup.

"I see you found the breakfast I'd prepared for you. The portion is obviously not convenient, but I was not expecting you to be like... This."

John sighed, "Well, that makes two of us."

Sherlock's gaze continued to follow the doctor as he walked back towards him. He bent down so that he was at eye level with his tiny companion. "Is there anything else you think you'll need? I think I might phone the hospital, perhaps they could finally provide me with a sample. After that, I'll contact Lestrade, hopefully Dr. Stevenson gave something away."

"I should be alright..."

John didn't realize that he had unconsciously moved away from Sherlock's face as he spoke. Sherlock, however, noticed almost immediately. John was still very frightened. He masked it well up until now, but the close proximity probably overwhelmed him. Sherlock wasn't even sure if John knew how scared he was.

Sherlock hoped that he didn't know how scared HE was. The thing was, Sherlock was terrified. He had no idea what to do, something Sherlock Holmes rarely experienced. Not only was Sherlock afraid that his friend would be harmed or in danger at this size, but also that he would be stuck at this size. This situation was completely unheard of. Most of all, Sherlock was afraid that he wouldn't be able to do anything for John. He felt completely helpless.

"John, it's alright that you're afraid."

John was astonished. It was not like Sherlock to say stuff like that.

'Ohhhh,' he thought. It all made sense now.

"Right back at you." The reply clearly surprised Sherlock, his face temporarily shifted. He wasn't the only one who knew how to deduce...

I'm sorry that this chapter was so short, I really wanted to get it posted. This is where all of the 'fun' starts... Please review, I really hope you enjoy this, I don't know if it's any good. All I know is that I really love the concept of Pocketlock. It's so strange and entertaining... I'll update again soon, and I promise it'll be much longer!