Branch off of my story "When Pigs Fly".
It all started when Sherlock had to investigate the disappearance of a genetic scientist.
"John! Got a case, grab your coat, get your gun, let's go, go, GO!" Storming around the apartment, Sherlock was almost jittering in excitement. He had just discovered, in a Sherlock way, that the disappearance of a top scientist was no accident or emergency.
"What now, Sherlock? A locked room murder, or another elephant?" There were practically tears in John's eyes. Anything that got Sherlock to act like a kid on sugar was not good for his mental health.
"Nope! Even better! A Kidnapping!"
"Why." thud
"Because!" Sherlock practically chirped.
The true catalyst was, perhaps, finding a copy of the research.
"So Dr. Lang was looking into the properties of fungi, viruses, and bacteria, hoping to combine them for a new way to combat disease?" John enquired as he was flipping through record of experiment results.
"In a nutshell, yes. She was about a week away from breaking through the current issue she had. That was mainly that the altered samples could only survive at about 25°C. Any higher and they started to dissolve. And the human body is 37°C. We had them programed to only attack the invading pathogens, and then only once they encountered blood. They are harmless otherwise."
"So essentially you have sentient slime." was John's reply.
The Lab assistant pondered. "I suppose you could say that..."
And then, after they found the doctor and Sherlock headed home...
John, walking into the apartment, came across an odd scene, even by his standards. Sherlock was crouching on the table, with slime slowly crawling up the walls.
Stopping at the threshold of the kitchen, he stood there blinking.
With nary a blink, he merely stated, "You nabbed a slime sample didn't you."
"Excellent John, your deductive abilities are increasing exponentially."
"Sherlock, unless you want to spend the rest of your life on that table, shut up."
Raising a single eyebrow, Sherlock simply announced "The flamethrower is under my bed."
Striding out of the room, John launched a quick "The kitchen is fireproofed correct?" and "It is safe to assume the flamethrower was altered to a lower power," over his shoulder as he went to grab the aforementioned weapon.
"Of course John, what am I, an idiot? Don't answer that of course."
One smoke alarm, light fixture, smirking Sherlock, and visit from the fire department later...
"Are you positive you are not a klepto and pyro?"
"Why John, whyever would you ask that?"
"Uggh... You. Are. Never. Messing with. Genetics. Again. NEVER."
