AN: hello lovely viewer! This story is currently unfinished and somewhat unedited. If you spot any mistakes or just plain bad writing, please let me know :) constructive criticism is always welcome and very much needed. Thank you so much for reading!
John Watson had always been a reckless borrower. His parents told him that his behavior was unorthodox and would not lead anywhere happy. He was thirteen, however, and venturing out into the world of the beans fascinated and terrified him. Perhaps his mother and father wouldn't have worried so much about this "phase," as they insisted on calling it, if they had lived somewhere less, well...interesting. The Holmes family (in whose home the Watson's resided) was not exactly sane, for lack of a better word. Their two boys were obviously bright (understatement of the year) and highly inquisitive. The younger was around John's age, but he wasn't sure of the exact number. What he did know, however, was that he loved to experiment. Oftentimes, the younger Holmes would leave random, unfinished projects lying around. And they were almost always dangerous. But that made John Watson's frequent excursions all the more exciting. He found the beans daily lives to be captivating and always worth risking his neck to see. The view from a desk, the feeling of absolute insignificance from under a table, the loneliness. It was wonderful and depressing all at the same time. Young John would also sometimes sit by a window and watch the large world fly by. If he could only see everything that it had to offer...'one day' he thought, 'one day I am going to SEE the world. No, I'm going to be on top of it.' And then he would smile to himself, always able to actually believe those words. Indeed, if John only knew what the future had in store for him, he might not have been so eager...
John couldn't believe how messed up things had gotten. Was this how it would end? Being smothered inside the black, stuffy folds of fabric? 'Well, this is it.' He thought, 'I'll either be discovered and experimented on or die here and then be discovered and experimented on. I'm not even sure which I prefer.' The events leading up to the poor boys predicament were rather unusual. Evening had fallen and the beans of the house should have been fast asleep. John had taken the opportunity as he normally did to re-explore the various nooks and crannies of the old home. His little sister, Harriet, was safely tucked in and he had heard his parents snoring contentedly when he left, so he didn't expect to have any trouble on that account. What he didn't expect, however, was danger from the outside. He was in the foyer, sitting on the bottom step to the staircase admiring the intricately carved front door, when he felt it. The sense. The fire in his belly that roared to life whenever he was about to be seen. His father had told him that it was a gift some borrowers were blessed with, and that he was extremely lucky to have it. No problem. The bean was coming down the stairs. All he had to do was run under the grandfather clock and stay put until the danger had passed. John was tempted to roll his eyes. Why was a bean up this late? How inconsiderate! Well, he supposed it would have been inconsiderate if the beans had even considered the possibility that there might be others besides themselves in the world. In any case, John quickly scurried under the ancient time machine, hoping there would not be too much dust. He was greatly disappointed. Holding his nose to keep from sneezing John tried to relax, but could not. A feeling of dread had stolen over him, replacing the fire with icy chills. He turned, hoping beyond hope that he was imagining things. Alas, though, he was not so lucky. Staring right back at him was a rat. Somewhat small and malnourished looking, but a rat nonetheless, and too many borrowers had lost there lives to such creatures. The hungry being was momentarily frozen from the shock of his sudden appearance, but it would soon recover. Not giving himself time to think twice, Watson ran right back out into the open. The bean was still on the stairs, though coming down rapidly. The borrower hoped that that at least would deter the beast from perusing him. But then he still had the problem of the bean. 'Think, John!' He chastised himself, 'a place to hide...' Whipping around, he quickly surveyed the area. His darting eyes soon rested on a black duffel bag by the wall. Without wondering why it was even there in the first place, John ran strait for it. A pocket on the side was partially unzipped, allowing him just enough space to squeeze inside before the bean made its appearance. A soft, deep voice filled the dark space, rattling his bones. Ah, it was the younger Holmes, he had a nice voice. What was his name again? John couldn't quite remember. Most of what he said, the borrower couldn't understand because the bean was muttering to himself and the words were muffled by the bag. To John's unpleasant surprise, he felt the bag being lifted roughly, and swung through empty space. Oh no. Ohnoohnohnohnohno. This wasn't supposed to happen! Where did this bean think he was going?! It was the middle of the fricking night! WTF!?
