"What you doing?" John asked Sherlock early one Saturday morning. The sun was twinkling through the curtains and everything was a peace in the world. Except Sherlock. His expression ranged from mingling distaste to utter hatred as he heard John's question.
"A very very delicate experiment." He sighed.
"Which is?"
Sherlock hit the table with the hand that wasn't holding the shaking eyedropper.
"Vital to the case."
"What case? You have no cases." John asked, staring at his flatmate. He was hovering by his shoulder now, peering in the petri-dish that lay in front of the detective. Something green was squirming around in it. Sherlock looked fascinated, though faintly disgusted at its movements.
"Yes I do. That one about the shipwrecked doodle book?"
"Oh yeah…" John remembered a distraught girl clinging to the railings of the Thames, begging for Sherlock's help. "How does that relate to this?" He stared at the glistening blob of matter which was now beginning to roll around sluggishly. Sherlock stared at it, confused.
"That's not right…"
"What's not right?"
Sherlock pointed to the blob which was slowly growing. "That's not right at all…" The blob was getting bigger and bigger. It wiggled and squiggled. John decided it was a wise idea to pull Sherlock away before he poked it curiously and it exploded.
"Hey!" He cried as John tugged on his dressing gown. The blob rolled off the table and grew into an egg shape.
"What the…?" John exclaimed as the giant green egg cracked in two. A beautiful woman emerged, clad in purple velvet. Her blonde hair was twisted up into an elegant knot. Her expression was severe.
"Sherlock! I told you not to meddle in things that are not of your concern." Sherlock flinched at the anger in her voice.
"I know. But it was for a case…" The woman growled and Sherlock tailed off. John had never seen Sherlock this frightened. He was visually shaking.
"That's always your excuse, young man! I biopsied a unicorn because it had something to do with a murder! I stopped time whilst experimenting on a piece of a thief's clothing! I made a bear talk as an alibi for an affair! Well I'm sick of it! This time you will be punished!" She glared at Sherlock and fumbled in her pocket.
"Excuse me, but who are you?" John asked the lady.
"Does he not know?" She asked Sherlock incredulously.
"He does not know." He stared at her
"He knows not?"
"Knows not does he." Sherlock sighed.
"Not he knows?"
"Enough!" John interrupted. "Now who are you?"
The woman looked surprised. "I am the science fairy! It does not pay to anger the science fairy!" She pulled a wand out of her pocket and pointed it at Sherlock.
"If you're going to punish him, you've got to get through me first!" John stepped in front of his lanky best friend. The science fairy shrugged.
"Ok then." A purple jet of light burst from her wand tip. It engulfed Sherlock and John in a blinding mist of shimmering glitter.
"You have one week. True love's first kiss!" She cackled and sprouting wings, flying away through the mist. All that could be heard was Sherlock and John's hacking coughs. The smoke began to clear and they emerged, completely unharmed or disfigured in anyway.
"Well that's wasn't so bad." John mumbled. Except he wasn't saying it. He could see himself from a slight height and his mouth wasn't moving. Wait… he could see himself? He glanced down at his hands, which were usually callused and tanned. Now they were white and long fingered. He saw himself doing something similar.
"Sherlock… I'm you!" He cried. Sherlock stared at him with wide eyes. John's eyes. Warm and brown, not beautiful silver.
"And I you." Sherlock replied gravely. There was silence in the flat. Then…
"Am I really that skinny?"
John laughed. "Yes. You are. Am I really that short?"
"Yes you are." Sherlock sniggered. There was more silence.
"Well now what?"
"We must find a way to change back."
"Sorry to sound blunt but… well duh!" Sherlock raised one of John's eyebrows. "But how?"
"You're meant to be the genius!"
"But you're me!" John argued.
"And I you. We've been over this. Now think, think!"
"You think think!"
"I can't! My brain's too small!"
"Thanks! I'm standing right here you know!" John was offended. Sherlock sniffed and flopped back on the sofa.
"OW!" He cried.
"What? What is it?" John rushed to his side.
"My shoulder. Your shoulder. Sorry…" Sherlock hissed. He grabbed the Union Flag cushion and pushed it behind John's bad shoulder then settled down to think.