Greg watched the boys sleep for a while, then walked over to the Doctor. "Those two are really Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."

"Yes."

"Then please tell me you've made some progress."

"I've barely scratched the surface of the chemical make-up. Even if I could use my TARDIS to find a cure, it would still take too long!" The Doctor sighed. "At this point, I'm worried I'll just have to make sure they are as comfortable as possible in their new bodies."

"But please tell me you're not giving up?"

"No, but soon it will be too deeply wired in their brains that they should be acting like 3-year-olds to make a difference if we give them a cure." He rested his head on the microscope lens. "Then they would be…better off in a 3-year-old's body then a 30-something-year-olds. And I'm…I'm…letting them down. I'm letting them be turned into 3 again. I couldn't even stop them from drinking the formula in the first place. It's the Ponds all over again."

Greg had heard enough. "Doctor! Snap out of it! We still have time! There may not be a lot of it but there is still. Time. Left! I'm not about to lose some of the best men I know without a fight!"

The Doctor's head snapped up. "Wait! No! Hold on! Shut up a minute! I've got an idea! Can you watch the boys while I get to the TARDIS?"

"W-well, I guess I could for a couple minutes, but—"

"Perfect! A couple minutes is all I'll need! I'll be right back!" He rushed out the door, the formula in his hands.


The Doctor rushed into his TARDIS. "Sorry, Sexy, you aren't going to like what I'm about to do too much, but please, I need to help my friends." He stuck the bottle into a hole in the console. "I need the contents of this bottle in its chemical make-up, and something to stabilize its effects. It would take too long to make the cure right now." She groaned in protest, but in a minute dinged and produced two syringes filled with liquid and a list of the make-up of the stabilizer and the formula. "Thanks, old girl."

And grabbing everything, the Doctor rushed back to Baker Street, bounded up the 17 steps to the door, and burst into the living room a glint in his eye as he said, "I've got it!"

Greg looked up. "You've got what?! A cure?!"

"The next best thing: I have a stabilizer!" The Doctor said as he approached the two boys and injected the formula into Sherlock's arm. He gave a yelp and bolted up, waking John who was soon crying out as well when the Doctor did the same to him. "What was that?!" John yelled. "That hurt, Doctor! What was that?!"

"That was a stabilizer, preventing the 3-year-old side of you from gaining any more ground then it already has. And it looks like I gave it just in time." The Doctor said, throwing a pointed look at Sherlock, who had almost immediately fallen back asleep, unaware of what was going on around him. John nudged Sherlock awake. "No…John. Lemme…sleep…AH!" *thud* John pushed Sherlock onto the floor. "Stay up."

"Ow…"

"Oh, stop. It can't hurt that much."

Yes it can, idiot.

Do you know how close you were to being gone, Sherlock?

No, and I really don't want to. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

Fat chance, Sherlock. This is the only reason I even know you're still IN there right now. Sherlock stopped rubbing his head and paled. What do you mean? I've been in here the whole time.

Well you're doing a good job of hiding it.

I'm not trying to.

Oh…Bit not good, then.

I'm pretty much gone except inside my mind…I'm sorry about this, John. I don't want to drag you down with me.

John smiled. The Doctor gave us a stabilizer, you clot.

So…you're okay?

For now, yeah.

Good…John?

Yeah?

Will you let me sleep NOW? I'm still tired.

John laughed. If there was a telepathic tone for whining, that was it. Only if I can be captain next time we play pirates.

Sherlock grabbed his sword. Absolutely not.

John leapt off Sherlock's chair, yelling, "Die, ye scurvy dog!" and grabbing his sword.

"Now hold on, you two." The Doctor interjected. "I want to check something. Sherlock, up on my lap please." He patted a spot next to him on the couch as he sat down, telling Sherlock to climb up. He did a deep scan of Sherlock's mind, much to the protest of the boy himself, who squirmed like crazy under the Doctor's grip. Finally he let up. "Okay, John, your turn." Sherlock scrambled off the Doctor's lap, scowling his best scowl at the invasion of privacy. Soon John was done too, and as the two started trying to kill each other with their swords, Greg raised the question, "So what are we eating for lunch?" He saw Mycroft enter out of the corner of his eye. "Well, if you all don't mind I went ahead and bought lunch for everyone already."

"My!" Sherlock yelled indignantly as he threw his sword at the intruder. Mycroft smirked and caught it with his hand that wasn't carrying lunch. "Good to see some things never change."