Chapter 9:
Jar Full of John
John's whole body was sore when he woke in his glass confine. He thought back to the previous morning and how wonderful it felt to wake up on Sherlock's plush scarf, truthfully it had been more comfortable then his own bed. 'Don't start thinking like that, this is all temporary.' . The smell of rotting jam was starting to really bother him, especially on an empty stomach. It bothered John that something he loved so much could cause him such frustration. 'Just like Sherlock.' He sighed.
He took a moment to take in his surroundings; someone had obviously moved the jar when he was asleep. John now sat on the edge of a shelf able to view the cluttered room with more ease. What appeared to be the front door of the residence was in clear view "It shouldn't be too hard to get through that, but it's a long drop down and I'm still in this damn jar." John bit down lightly on his bottom lip.
The jar was covered by a screw on lid, one without air holes he noted. Luckily his size meant he had a few hours to a day longer before he ran out of air. Stepping on the tips of his toes and reaching as far up as he could he was still a good two inches from the lid, which comparatively speaking was closer to two feet for him.
A knock from the front door diverted his attention. His elderly captor hustled out of another room and spied out the peep hole before opening it. John leaned against the edge of the glass but the outside of the door was still blocked from his view.
"It wont be up for sale until later today at the auction house, I have to get the best price after all."
"I am not an "it"." John muttered to himself.
"I was hoping I could make it worth your while to buy him beforehand." The voice outside the door sounded firm.
The old man laughed, "It's not everyday you come across something like this, it's worth a fortune at least!"
"Name your price, I'll happily meet it." the voice sounded oddly familiar to John but he couldn't quite place it.
John's captor licked his lips greedily. It was obvious he was trying to determine the highest possible amount he could get for John. The twelve-centimeter man was truly priceless, how could he possibly come up with a worthy amount? "Twelve million?"
"One for every centimeter? Fair enough, I accept." Even John could tell there was something off, that whoever this was didn't intend to actually pay that much money.
"Excellent. I'll give you a week to pay me, then I'll hand it over." The man smiled gleefully.
"I would like him now." It was a command not a request.
"Yes, well, I have to know that I will get my money." He narrowed his eyes.
"We'll draw up a contract. But a week is too long, I insist on having him now so I know I'm satisfied with what I purchased."
The old man didn't seem too pleased, but he stepped aside to let his visitor inside. "Alright."
John gasped. He was all too familiar with the well dressed psychopath that had entered. Moriarty.
"Where is he?" Moriarty's gaze swept the whole room, he clearly missed John's jam jar.
"Contract first, did you bring a lawyer by chance?"
Moriarty swiftly shut the front door and angled himself to force the old man backwards into the room he had previously emerged from. John could barely make out the quick flash of metal from Moriarty's pocket.
"Don't think I'll be needing one." He continued to push the old man further back into the house and eventually out of earshot.
John looked over the ledge of the shelf. It was a long ways down for someone his size, but he had often seen jars like the one he was in fall with minimal damage. Food jars were often made with kids and accidents in mind, eventually being made of safer glass. That didn't mean that the jar wouldn't shatter of course. John weighed his options.
A second knock came from the door. John froze, not sure if he had missed his only chance of escape. No one answered the door and the far away muffled voice of Moriarty stopped, likely listening to the knock and debating what to do.
The knock came again, firmer this time, but still no answer. 'Maybe the person would give up and leave?' This thought left his mind when small metal sounds came from the lock of the door.
Moriarty came around the corner brandishing his gun with a cocky smile. He waited patiently in the space the door would cover once it opened. The door opened a small crack at first, the intruder testing the waters. Cautiously, Sherlock stepped into view. John's eyes widened in panic, he knew his voice was too small for Sherlock to hear from that distance. Banging his fist against the glass only produced a small 'ping.'
"Great minds think alike after all." Moriarty's voice was sickeningly high pitched.
Sherlock clenched his fists and turned to look down the barrel of Moriarty's gun. He tried to refrain from scowling.
"Not trying to buy him before the auction starts are we?"
Sherlock remained silent.
"You know that's not fair. I have just as much right to have a little pet of my own." He smiled and motioned for Sherlock to take a seat,
"I rather stand." His face was an emotionless mask.
"If you wanted him back you should have put up missing Jawn posters."
The detective did his best not to cringe. "I see you haven't found him yet."
Moriarty's smile flattened a bit, "In due time." He cocked his gun. "You could help me with that you know."
Sherlock's jaw clenched.
"You're no fun! I could just as easily threaten the idiot in the other room, but you know I love to watch you work."
"This is a rather small apartment, likely only one way in and one way out."
Moriarty held the gun firm in his hands and raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't come alone and it's likely there will be guns drawn on the house regardless of your presence here."
"It would be a shame to squish your little pet before I leave." Moriarty made an exaggerated frown. "Oh that's right, I didn't come alone either!" His fake smile returned as he took his cell phone out of his pocket. "Let's see how many bullets my favorite sniper brought along."
Mycroft waited impatiently in his car. He saw Sherlock pick the lock and walk in, that meant he should have been able to find John and come back by now.
"Damn him what's taking so long?"
Anthea shrugged.
Do you require assistance?- MH
He waited a moment for a reply.
I will enter unless you say otherwise.-MH
Mycroft huffed at his watch barely waiting for the response he wouldn't be getting before grabbing his broom despite the sunny day and stepping out of his car. He thought he heard a clicking sound in the distance but brushed it off. He eyes narrowed at the inch wide crack that Sherlock left the front door open. Mycroft scoffed "Idiot, if the owner comes home while you're in there he'll know something is wrong." He scowled at a sudden realization. "Sherlock isn't an idiot."
The moment his hand touched the door handle he could feel a strange rumbling beneath his feet. He swung the door open as the tremor began making the house shake.
"Sherlock, where are-"
The door opening caught Moriarty off guard, he notice the shaking lamp next to him until it hit his arm. The gun fell and slid across the sleek wooden floor. Sherlock reached out to grab him by the shirt collar but the shaking ground gave him just enough time to slide by Mycroft and towards the door.
"Good luck finding Johnny boy!"
Sherlock wanted to run after him, but he knew if he had he would likely miss his chance to find John. He turned back towards the flat, eyes furiously scanning the room mid earth quake.
John's teeth chattered as his jar shook, every second brought him a bit more off the ledge. He tried standing at the far end in hopes of balancing the glass as long as possible.
"Mycroft! There's a man in the back room, ask him where John is!" Sherlock began ripping books off the shelves on the wall opposite of John, he couldn't hear John shouting his name.
Mycroft was furious someone could hold a gun to his brother's head only to bolt out the door a second later, but he knew there was no time to run after him. The small flat was crumbling around them but he still turned the corner to find an elderly man tied to a chair, luckily he hadn't been gagged.
"Where's Watson?"
The old man looked up confused.
"The tiny person?" Mycroft wanted out of the flat before something fell on him.
"You'll steal him from me!" he spat.
"He'll die if we don't locate him right now."
The old man frowned knowing his uninvited guest was right. "North wall, top shelf."
Mycrfot sprinted back through the doorway that separated the two rooms just as the shelf unit on the north wall slanted too far over. Mycroft dashed to hold it up before it fell on a hunched over Sherlock still mad with panic. The detective heard Mycroft moving behind him and turned in time to see a suspicious empty jam jar slide off the tilted shelf. He instinctively reached out just before the glass connected with the hard wooden floor. Just behind the label he could make out a clearly dazed John.
"I have him!"
The earthquake subsided as quickly as it began. Mycroft pushed the shelves back into place for his brother to stand. Sherlock quickly unscrewed the lid slowly tilting the jar on it's side for John to gain his footing. The doctor scurried out onto the inviting palm and grabbed onto the thumb.
"I thought I would never see you again."
"John, I had no idea you were so emotionally invested in my thumb." He smiled.
"I missed all of you, not your bloody thumb." His grip tightened. "Please take me back to the flat?"
Sherlock had subconsciously raised his hand very close to his face to better see his flatmate. Voice barely above a whisper, "Of course, and John- I missed you too." His eyes narrowed as he felt hot breath on his face. "Mycroft! You are entirely too close for comfort!"
Mycroft had leaned down to look at John but backed off after his brother's outburst. "I really still thought this was some grand hoax…"
Sherlock frowned and brought his second hand up as a protective barrier around John, "Well you can see clearly that it's not, now if you don't mind we would both like to go home."
Sherlock held John in his palms the whole car ride back to their flat, never taking his eyes off him. John sat quietly drawing invisible circles with his finger in the giant hands, occasionally looking up to see green grey eyes watching his every movement.
"I don't suppose it's my business, but why exactly is he lacking in size?"
"You're right, it's not your business." Sherlock shot back.
Mycroft tightened his grip on his umbrella handle, they were nearing 221b. "and you plan on turning him back when?"
John looked over at Mycroft, he stopped making his finger movement against Sherlock's palms. The answer that would follow made him nervous.
The detective was silent for a moment. "I'm working on it." the corner of his mouth fell downwards, he knew John was beginning to worry by the sudden lack of movement. He himself was terrified.
Once inside the flat Sherlock carefully placed John on his laid out scarf on the kitchen table, his eyes were down cast.
"John I…" he looked away.
"It's alright Sherlock, I know how hard you must have looked for me. It's really my fault the fire started and I got lost."
Sherlock was silent and his eyes remained looking off towards the wall at nothing in particular.
"Really Sherlock. I'm alright now. Besides, if you hadn't caught me in time-"
"But what if I didn't catch you in time!" His gaze suddenly returned to John. "What if Moriarty found your first? He could crush you with his hand alone John! Or that rat?!" He placed his hands on the table on either side of John to rise out of his seat. John reached out to place his hand on the forefinger nearest to him, causing Sherlock to stop and look at him harder.
"I knew you would find me."
"It's impossible to 'know' that."
"It's not. It's because you're brilliant." John smiled at the towering giant.
Sherlock's hand raised slightly bringing his forefinger up, John immediately wrapped his hands around it. Sherlock smiled. 'Why was John so affectionate suddenly?'
"Oh, you should be hungry by now." He realized his small doctor had gone a night and morning without food.
"Starving."
"I can make you some toast with jam" Sherlock's hand started to pull away so he could find food.
"Erm, I think I'll pass on the jam…" he was sure he still had some on his clothes and desperately wanted away from the smell after so many hours.
Sherlock looked back at him momentarily, 'Why couldn't John always be this affectionate? Even if it was just his hand.'
John noticed a strange look on Sherlock's face he didn't recognize. "What is it?"
"I'm never letting you out of my sight again."
"eh.. but Lock- really, you can't just- I mean- I need privacy after all."
"No arguments."
John huffed. "Fine. But it's only until I'm back to normal."
Sherlock had a hesitant look again.
"Sher-lock…. I am… I mean, there is a way to get me back to my normal size isn't there?"
A brief moment of panic shown in Sherlock's eyes before he could mask his face with his expressionless look. "Of course. I just haven't found it yet."
The brief moment of panic was enough for John. "I could be stuck like this then…" he went quiet and looked down at the scarf he had nestled himself into, missing Sherlock's watering eyes.
