John almost collapsed when he turned around to find the giant figure stood behind him. The borrower was suddenly bombarded with a tower of giant curls, pale skin and dark fabrics. And to make matters worse, they were focused directly on him. He'd been seen. Sherlock had seen him. Why didn't he hear Sherlock until it was too late? Why was he even back in the flat so soon? Usually when he went to solve a case he was gone for ages! How had John let this happen? Everything had been going brilliantly until now, Sherlock hadn't even noticed anything he'd taken going missing, and all of a sudden John's life may as well be over. He had made the worst possible mistake a member of his kind could make.
It seemed to just be a scramble of events rather than an actual thing that happened to John in the next few seconds. Immediately his flight instincts kicked in. He somehow managed to tear his eyes away from Sherlock's bewildered face and bolted towards one of the passageways near the fridge, praying he would get there in time. If luck was on his side, Sherlock's disbelief would slow his response. Then John could simply pack the necessary essentials and tear out of Baker Street, far far away from all this madness. However, the little borrower never made it that far because he was suddenly covered by a swirl of glass walls that sealed his fate with a loud clink. Sherlock had crouched down and trapped him under an empty glass beaker that had been slung on the coffee table. It was all over now. John tried to fight back against the blind fear that had begun to completely override most his attempts to think, to rationalise the situation. What should he do? Stay silent, and humour Sherlock, or just make a break for it at the first opportunity? He was desperate to try escaping his sudden cage but deep down he knew he would simply get caught again. Besides, he didn't want to anger the human. After all, it was Sherlock who had total control now. John decided to just wait it out and see what Sherlock decided to do. It was all he could do at this point.
Sherlock fell onto his knees to get a proper look at his captive. John felt his body break out into a cold sweat as his eyes locked with Sherlock's own blue orbs looming above him, the humans face curved and distorted by the glass. Time seemed to slow down in that single moment. His senses heightened, with the thrum of his own heart filling his head. The borrower's entire body was trembling violently, as he was now close to hyperventilating. He felt his legs crumple underneath him, no longer able to hold him upright as fear drowned out the rest of his thoughts. He was going to die. There was no way he'd make it out of this encounter alive. And he was going to die a terrifying death, at the hands of Sherlock Holmes. After an awkward staring match that felt like an eternity, when really it was merely a few seconds, Sherlock made a move. John stiffened and watched as a huge out stretched hand reached forwards, fingers like tree trunks, and placed itself onto the top of the beaker. John had a moment of disbelief as the glass surrounding him was peeled from the floor by Sherlock. But he did not let himself flood with relief or try to run away. Sherlock was watching him now. He was still completely at the giant's mercy.
It took John a moment to realise that Sherlock was talking to him.
"Can you speak?" He murmured out in his deep, purring voice.
John stood up, shaky and stumbling as he did so, and replied.
"Y-yes." He stammered out.
John saw a slight twitch of emotion cross Sherlock's face. Whether it was disbelief, interest, or delight John didn't know. But Sherlock's face quickly turned back to its usual detached demeanour. The borrower flinched a bit as Sherlock reached out for the beaker again and held it out to John, the opening right in front of him.
"Would you mind climbing inside this for me? I would like to continue our conversation, but perhaps off the floor. I promise I won't hurt you."
John fought back a whimper. He was being asked to trap himself. But he knew he had no choice. It was better to comply with Sherlock's request than to be forced to obey. He placed his hands on the cool beakers edges and clambered into the glass container, sliding down to the bottom. John held his breath as he began to feel Sherlock elevate him upwards. He felt his insides twist with nausea as he watched the carpet slip away from underneath him, until he was at a spine shattering height. The borrowers nausea only worsened as Sherlock began to walk into the living room, holding the beaker in front of him. Each stride made John slide against the glass ever so slightly, increasing his nerves. It was rather odd for John to be able to see everything so high up and from the middle of the room. Usually, he rarely got high up and only on the counters or the mantel piece, when he was close to the walls. But for the first time he could see everything from the middle of the room, and from what's more from a bird's eye view point. If he hadn't been so terrified, he may have even enjoyed it. Eventually Sherlock reached the mantel piece and held out the beaker, turning it slightly so John could climb out more easily. John turned his head to glance at Sherlock, who gave a slight nod and seemed to attempt a smile. So the borrower climbed out of the beaker and spilled onto the mantel piece, skirting away from the edge, and from Sherlock, as quickly as possible.
John was still struggling to deal with being so close to a human, to something so big, and having those distant, ice cold eyes focused completely on him. They seemed to be mentally picking John apart, collecting all the facts they could about him. So he stayed sitting down, as to avoid simply crumpling over for a second time. Sherlock pursed his lips slightly, as if thinking very hard. John was almost irritated by how little affect the situation was having on the human. To him, finding John was probably just another event to quench his boredom, just a game.
"What exactly are you? You seem to be identical to a human being, but simply much smaller. But the human body isn't supposed to function at such as small size. Nor should be able to produce sounds as low pitched or loudly as you did." Sherlock then let his excitement get the better of him "Oh this is the best case I've ever come across! It's fantastic! You have no idea how fascinating you are!"
John was slightly startled by Sherlock's little bout of excitement, the man holding back the urge to bound up and down. It was rather unlike him. The borrower just stared back, dumbfounded. He didn't like where this conversation was headed. He was fascinating? More specifically, his body was fascinating? Oh, oh no. John decided to try keeping Sherlock as entertained as possible with conversation. Maybe he was at a high risk of being dissected, but at least he could try keep the human talking until he could get away? It was his best shot.
"Would you perhaps give me your name? If you have one, that is." Sherlock queried, leaning in ever so slightly.
John fought down the urge to move away and spluttered out.
"M-My name is John. J-John Watson."
"Well, I suspect you already know this, but my name is Sherlock Holmes. Pleased to meet your acquaintance." Sherlock gave a slight nod, as if to confirm that they were now acquaintances.
This gave John a tiny spark of hope. Maybe Sherlock wouldn't hurt him? But then again, maybe Sherlock simply wanted John to be easy to cooperate with before he got to experimenting. John knew he was much harder to predict than other humans.
"Are you wondering if I'm going to kill you?" Sherlock questioned.
John jumped slightly at this. Damn, was he really so easy to read?
"I- well, I, I mean,-" John began
Sherlock cut him of "Oh no no no, I understand. You're used to avoiding predators and adapted to hiding from humans at all costs. A fight or flight response is standard."
There was an awkward pause.
"Regardless, I have no intention of hurting you. Although I would like to – examine you a bit more, I'll make sure no harm will come to you."
"R-really?" John spluttered. He felt a slight wave of relief. Although he didn't fully believe Sherlock, at least it was much more likely that he wasn't going to be hurt by the human.
"Hm? Yes, really. I must say, although you're so different in size and life style, your behaviour is remarkably similar to a humans. Thereby it follows that it is just as easy to predict. Shame."
John almost forgot his fear in that moment. He was intrigued.
"How so?" He asked.
"Well, everything about you I can simply infer by looking. You've recently raided the pantry judging by what you're wearing, you're formulating as many plans to escape as possible, most likely leaning towards the hole in the mantel piece located to your left and you're living alone in this flat judging by the quality of your haircut. It's terribly shabby at the back"
John was silenced for a good moment. Eventually he realised he'd been holding his breath and gasped for air "Amazing" He breathed "That was amazing."
"You think so?" Sherlock murmured, cocking his head at John ever so slightly, his eyes glinting.
"Y-yes. The way you can just figure so many things out from someone's appearance. It's truly amazing." John hoped his flattery would perhaps increase his chances of survival. But what he said was true, he really did find Sherlock's deductions brilliant, despite the terror and instinct coursing through him.
"Hmm... odd that you think it is amazing. Between you and me, most people tend to tell me to piss off..." Sherlock chuckled slightly.
John smiled slightly in reply, glad to have broken through Sherlock's emotionless state a bit.
"Would you mind if I perhaps, examined you a bit more?" Sherlock asked.
Oh no, John thought, things were going sour again.
"What d-do you mean by that?" John replied, unable to hide the nerves in his voice.
"Nothing too extreme. And no harm would come to you what so ever. I was just hoping to maybe measure your height, that sort of thing." Sherlock explained.
John swallowed. He felt like he couldn't say no to Sherlock's request. And the human had promised not to hurt him...
"All-all right" John stammered.
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Hi guys! So this is my fic so far. I tried to spell check but sorry for any errors, I'm not so great with spelling and things but I try ^^'.
Anyway, I've always adored pocket John - it's so cute! So I finally got round to writing a fic for it.
I'm not sure when I'll get the third chapter out - there's a small chance I won't even do it. Blame my tumblr addiction. Regardless, I'll try but expect to wait a while.
And finally, any criticisms, comments, and faves are very much welcome :D!
