"Ummm, Sherlock, what are you doing?"
Striding into the apartment, John came across the scene of Sherlock trying to hold a miniature pig down while attempting to extract a vial of blood. Sadly, though it was letting out a bunch of squeals and oinks, the pig was winning. On the table a cage was a falcon, seeming to be looking down in disapproval.
"Well John, you see, I was bored. As usual. So I decided to bug Mycroft, strange thought there, and ask for a case. His response? 'When pigs fly dear brother, when they fly.'"
"So now in order to actually get that, you decided to make a pig-bird hybrid. In our kitchen. Here."
"Exactly!" Sherlock crowed in triumph as he managed to draw the blood from the pig.
"Get them out of the flat," was the flat reply.
"But John! The science!"
"No. The last time you played with genetics, you created a kind sentient slime! Still no clue how you did that..."
Shuddering at those words, John briefly recalled the slime. It had started to take over the kitchen, and the only way to get it off Sherlock was to use the flamethrower that Sherlock had acquired through less than legal means. The burn mark was still on the ceiling.
"John..." Sherlock whined.
"No. Out."
"But-"
"Still no."
"What about-"
"N. O. Don't make me call animal control," John said as he pinched his nose. He reached into his pocket to grab his phone and began to move his finger to the speed dial.
"Fine..." Pouting all the while, he ushered the pig to its cage.
"The samples?"
Reaching into his pocket, Sherlock pulled out several vials.
"All of them?"
Groaning, Sherlock pulled out another two.
"There we go. Now return the pig and bird to where you most likely stole it from."
"Still want a flying pig," he grumbled under his breath.
"NOW, Sherlock!"