Dedicated, as always, to my dear Sherlock ADD Buddy. I'm sorry you're so sick. Being sick is not fun. The flu is not fun. Thank you for the digital Sherlock-strength aspirin you sen my way earlier, and the song, which you should know, I am still listening to (goddamnit). I hope you enjoy this. :3

DAY 10 CHALLENGE: WITH ANIMAL EARS

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

Sherlock experimented frequently.

Most everyone knew this, and none more than John Watson. He did live with the man, after all, and was dating him.

Most of the time, Sherlock was careful and his experiments would go according to plan. Every now and then, though, something would go wrong. It usually ended with an explosion of some sort, and the fire department occasionally had to be called, but these occasions became less and less frequent as the years went on.

Then there were times when things went horribly, catastrophically wrong. In the seven years John had lived in Baker Street, that had only happened once before. It had ended with the army making an appearance at their flat, many hours spent tracking down the creations Sherlock had unleashed on the streets, and many calls made by Mycroft to make sure Sherlock wasn't thrown in an insane asylum for the rest of his life.

A second event was about to be added to that list.

Nobody, not even Sherlock, was entirely sure how an experiment involving cat DNA and some strange purple substance he had stolen from a government lab had gone so terribly wrong. Although, in retrospect, he supposed he should've known better than to experiment with a strange purple substance he stole from a government lab.

What Sherlock and John did know was this, though- Sherlock had been experimenting with the two substances mentioned above, and John had been in the kitchen while this experiment was going on. He was just an innocent bystander- he'd been in the process of making tea when it happened. "It" being Sherlock slipping on a puddle of water while carrying the purple substance with the cat DNA mixed in, falling and breaking the container, and having it explode into a noxious fume of purple gas that made them both fall unconscious.

When John woke up, something wasn't quite... Right.

And it wasn't the fact that there was still purple fumes everywhere, glass shattered on the floor, and an unconscious consulting detective lying on the floor.

No, it was the fact there was a pair of honest-to-god cat ears sticking out of his curls.

John didn't touch the top of his head. He most certainly did not. Because if he had and discovered a similar pair on top of his head, he would end up passing out again. And then strangling Sherlock when he awoke.

Sherlock stirred slowly, moaning softly. John waited patiently for him to wake up so he could explain what the hell was going on and how he planned to rectify the situation.

Sherlock sat up slowly, putting his hand to his head in order to stop the throbbing, but stopping when he felt something that shouldn't be there. Two somethings, actually. Two fuzzy somethings.

A quick look up at John confirmed his hypothesis.

"Oh."

"Oh, what?" John hissed through his teeth.

"I appear to have made an error."

"Well, no bloody fucking shit, Sherlock," John growled. "Please tell me you have a cure for- for whatever this is."

When Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, John cut him off. "And I suggest you think very carefully about what you're going to say next," he warned.

Sherlock gulped, before answering cautiously, "I don't. However..."

"However what?"

"... I stole this compound from one of Mycroft's labs. He is undoubtedly already aware of our situation, so we should just wait until I synthesize something or he sends something this way. And no," he said, seeing the look on John's face, "I am not calling him."

John stiffened. "And how long should this take?"

"Erm..."

"Sherlock. Tell me right now or I swear to god I will tell Lestrade about that one time-"

"You wouldn't dare," Sherlock whispered, eyes panicked.

"I would and I will if you don't tell me right now."

Sherlock winced. "It depends on the complexity of the compound, but-"

"No buts, Sherlock. When."

"I'd guess around a day."

If looks could kill, Sherlock would have melted into a puddle of goo right then and there.

"I just- I'll go get started and that shall I?" he asked, before hurriedly standing up, leaning on the table for support, and stumbling off to get the necessary equipment.

"That's more like it," John said contentedly to himself, before finally reaching up to touch the pair of ears that now currently resided on top of his head. He winced when he felt them.

There would be hell to pay if those things weren't off of him by the time he went to bed that night.

We have a case. Can you come? -GL

Sherlock felt himself light up with excitement before he remembered his and John's current situation, and how he was supposed to be fixing it. He sighed before he typed his reply.

Can't. Busy. -SH

His phone pinged again a few minutes later.

Since when are you too busy for a crime scene? -GL

That man knew him too well.

Since now. Please stop bothering me. I am very busy right now. -SH

Too busy for a double homicide? -GL

Oh, damn it all to hell.

Fine. What's the address? -SH

"Sherlock," John said slowly, "Please tell me you didn't actually tell Lestrade we were going to a crime scene like this."

Sherlock automatically took a step backward. "It's a double homicide," he defended himself. "And Mycroft called me earlier, and said he'd have an solution delivered by early tomorrow morning."

John sighed and grabbed his lover by the shirt. Pulling him in for a kiss, he growled, "It's a damn good thing I love you." He then walked into their room. Sherlock hears rustling as he searched for something, and then came back out with two hats. One of which was a beanie, and the other was the hat. The ridiculous deerstalker he deeply regretted wearing all those years ago, and still resided in 221B simply because John caught Sherlock every time he tried to throw it out. Sherlock practically hissed when he saw the thing.

John laughed, because as it turned out, the ears that poked through his lover's ebony curls had the full range of motion of a normal cat's ears, and flattened backwards when he saw the hat. While John was still highly irritated with the detective, he found the sight highly amusing.

"What is that for?" Sherlock spat out. John just shoved the hat on top of his head, being careful not to crush the ears on top of his head. Sherlock squirmed uncomfortably the entire time.

John then pulled the beanie over his head, wincing as he felt the hat tug on the ears.

He helped Sherlock shrug on his coat, threw on his own, grabbed his wallet and followed Sherlock out of the flat.

Lestrade did a double take when he saw the detective and his blogger as they walked into the crime scene.

"I thought you hated that hat."

"Apparently my hatred for it was not as strong as you believed. Now, can we go in?"

Lestrade, sensing Sherlock's discomfort, pressed on, grinning evilly. "Really? Because you have said many times that you hate the damn thing."

"Well, I'm wearing it now, aren't I? Maybe I got cold."

"You? Get cold? Sherlock, I've never seen you willingly wear a hat in public unless it was part of a disguise."

"Most body heat is lost through the head."

"Doesn't change the fact that I've never seen you willingly wear that thing before now, Sherlock."

"I thought you called me in here to solve a crime, not chatter meaninglessly about my choice in hats," was Sherlock's curt reply. Lestrade, still grinning maliciously, let them in.

Sherlock had solved it in ten minutes.

It would've been five if he hadn't had to take a few minutes outside to readjust his hat after his ears had nearly pushed it off of his head when the perked straight up after making a particularly brilliant deduction.

Later that night, after they had gone home and lay in bed together, John found himself stroking Sherlock's curls, as he did most nights, when his hand accidently hit the ears. Both he and Sherlock stopped and gasped for a moment.

"Sherlock, love, I'm sorry-"

"No, John, it's... Fine."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay then." Slowly, John tentatively reached out and touched the furry objects sticking out of Sherlock's head. Sherlock tensed for a moment, before relaxing, and... Jesus Christ, was the man purring?

John decided he didn't want to know. He did like stroking the ears, though. And that's exactly what he fell asleep doing.

The next morning, a package was delivered to them with the simple instruction, "Mix in with your morning tea. -MH".

And that's exactly what they did. They both passed out (again) and when they came to an hour later, their ears were gone. And things returned to their typical state of normalcy at 221B.

Well, as normal as it would ever be as long Sherlock Holmes, World's Only Consulting Detective, part-time mad scientist, and his shorter and friendlier boyfriend flatmate, and blogger Captain John Watson, MD, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, resided in it.

Oddly enough, neither of them minded.

A/N: Whoa, you guys. I'm publishing early tonight! (Well, early for me.) The reason for this is because I actually got sick, and am still sick, and am currently hating whatever virus I have that is currently giving me a migraine, and fever chills, because really, it's already 19 bloody degrees outside and I live in a bloody desert and isn't that cold enough already? Fuck you, virus. FUCK. YOU.

*coughs awkwardly* In other news...

PennamePersona commented in chapter 2 that "I love how Sherlock always gets portrayed as cat-like. I can totally see it and it makes me smile. :)" So, my dear, I wrote this thinking of you.

So, yeah. I stayed home from school today because I woke up with horrible stomachache, and it appears as if while I was staying home for feeling sick, I actually got sick. Yay. *insert sarcasm here* So, not sure if I'm going to go to school tomorrow either. Which will suck for me, but be great for you guys, because it'll mean I'll update early again. So, enjoy a little happiness from me. It'll only be at the cost of my misery and suffering.

I'm quite the sarcastic little shit when I'm sick.

Also, as of the publishing of this, I will officially be a third of the way through the prompts! Woot! To be completely honest, I'm going to be sad when this is over. Even though it takes up a lot of time, I'm learning a lot (like how to write better and longer chapters/stories, how to time-manage more successfully, etc.), and I love you guys all so much I'll be sad to see you go.

But hey, we've still got twenty more days, right?

Also, I have officially finished the second crack challenge (as I call them in my head). I've strated calling the sillier, and more nonsensical prompts "crack challenges"- the first being the Cosplay challenge, the second being today's. The next is day thirteen- the "Eating ice cream" challenge. Should be fun, right? Oh, and I'd like to send a HUGE thank you to ThespiansKC and mervoparkite for the suggestions for help with the Genderbend challenge. I love you both- you are AMAZING. *huggles*

On an unrelated note, I just realized the massive pile of fics I need to work on/ need to start work on. There is literally a shitload. I'm not even joking. I have three WIPs that I need to update, a series of kid!lock drabbles I need to start for my friend as a sort of really super late birthday present, a Johnlock parent!lock I started but never finished and another friend requested I finish, which now I have to do because she's just an amazing person, and five (count 'em- FIVE) stories I started co-authoring with the friend who I'm writing the kid!lock for and we never finished, but I desperately want to.

And the list goes on. I have some Drarry (from Harry Potter) fanart I need to draw for a girl I've known since Kindergarten, as a sort of "Happy 16th Birthday, holy shit we've known each other for eleven years" present, a piece of Sherlock fanart I drew a while back I need to finish digitally coloring, two prompts sent to me (thankfully by personal friends, so they aren't mad I haven't done them yet) I need to finish/start, a one-shot I wrote and need to go back and seriously edit, two one-shots I have had ideas for that I need to do, an idea for a super-long multi-chapter Sherlock fic inspired by the song "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heaps, and about ten unfinished stories I started but never finished just sitting on my phone, waiting for me to come back and finish them. And seven on my computer.

Add the fact I'm doing this and I'm in all honors classes and have anywhere from two-eight hours of homework a night, I am literally barely managing to stay afloat in the stormy sea that is my life.

That's not even counting my social life, which has problems of its own. My friends have problems and they xome to me I'm not sure why, they just do. And I have personal, home life problems I have to deal with.

I am seriously surprised I haven't had an aneurysm yet. I'm never going to give up on fanfiction, though- it is one of the few things that brings me pleasure in my otherwise dull and stressed existence.

I'm sorry I ranted. I just needed to get that off my chest. Please, please, please leave me a review. Today's day ten, so I have a new metaphor- reviews are to me what strawberry jam is to John. That alone should be enough to convince you to review. Please, please, please review. Make my suffering of this virus better by making me smile even though my head is throbbing.

I have yet again stolen my mother's pink snuggie and am currently shivering under it. Life is good.

Goodnight, (or good morning),

Love, RainyDays-and-DayDreams

*stares creepily at reader while reciting the words to "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap* *stubs toe on wall and falls down stairs while trapped in pink snuggie*