Jim is evil. Only evil people yell at weeping children. Take note. P.S: Thanks to the person who reviewed first on the last chapter, I Loled in the library, loud enough to bother the librarians. It was the best part of a terrible day, though!
John cried harder, his breath coming in heavy sobs and shrieks as he fought the hot tears trickling down his face. His knotted fists were already raised in a preemptive self-defense position.
Jim spun on him in a fit of rage, leaning over his cowering form and snarling into his face "Shut up!"
John wept bitterly, only daring to breathe when he felt he could make no noise; and even then his breathe became a sob that was wrenched out of him through necessity. He pressed his face into his hands which were hidden in the enormous sleeves of his favorite beige jumper. It was the only clothing he had and he wore it like an ill-fitting dress.
Jim sighed deeply and eased off the crying child, leaving him to his world of misery so that he himself could embark on a swift trip to contemplation-land where he could maybe make some sense of the curious night's affairs.
He had known from the start that Dr. Genil had been working on a serum that caused a unique disturbance in an organism's Meiosis. So far so obvious.
John hiccupped. Jim shot him a withering glance. The toddler cowered, burying his face in the crook of his elbows and all but disappearing into his jumper. A soft moan emerged from the folds of cotton.
Jim paced nervously across the flat, stalking past the couch, into the tiled area he'd appointed to be his kitchen, turning sharply on his heel, then pacing back across the hardwood onto the rug and past the couch again. He kept his head low and watched each passing floor, counting them off as they appeared.
Every now and again he would snap his attention to John, who would either be crying into his arms, or would be staring at him, and immediately hide his face when they met eye-to-eye.
Dr. Genil could turn adults into toddlers; Sebastian had told him as much. Did he believe it before now? Not at all.
But gazing at the boy crying on his sofa, Jim found it difficult not to believe. In fact, what could be more natural? If it wasn't a toddler-version of John on his sofa, then surely it must have been John's son, or close relative. The likeness was uncanny, it was unnerving, but most of all it was unmistakable.
Jim eased himself onto the sofa beside John's trembling figure and continued to observe him mutely. He made a list of the things he knew, and he repeated them to himself very calmly and clearly, just in case he was truly as insane as he felt.
One, the boy sitting next to him was the John Watson.
Two, Dr. Genil can turn adults into children.
Three, turning adults into children is possible. (That one was important not to exclude)
Four; and at this realization he curled his flexed hand into a white-knuckled fist: Sherlock Holmes was currently in possession of his sniper, Sebastian Moran.
After organizing his thoughts thus, he next had to decide what to do. That didn't take long, since he had a job for his sniper the next morning, and no plans for the use of John as of yet. He picked up his phone and dialed Sherlock Holmes' number.