Experiment

A/n: I hope you are all still enjoying this story! This one is inspired by Guest who asked John being dragged into an experiment. I really hope it's okay! Xxx

One thing I knew was that I definitely hadn't been lying here five minutes before.

I'd gone to bed. I remembered clearly. I'd climbed under the sheets and closed my eyes and slept.

So why. The bloody hell. Was I lying downstairs on the carpet in the middle of the lounge?

I raised my head slightly. This was the weirdest thing to ever happen to me.

Had I slept- walked? And just dropped there? Jesus I needed to get a grip on myself.

I started to get up.

"No. Don't move," I froze. That was Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" I mumbled, confused.

"Don't move at all,"

I dropped my head again, watching his legs hurry past.

"What the hell am I doing down here?" I asked him. He would know. Knowing my bloody luck it had been him who had moved me in the first place.

"I required your assistance,"

A bizarre image of Sherlock dragging me down the stairs by the ankles filled my head. I hoped to god that hadn't really happened. Mycroft would be amusing himself rather too much with the tapes. God we really needed to de-bug the flat.

But then I realised what he'd said. Oh god.

"Why?" I asked sharply, "my assistance for what?"

"An experiment," Sherlock's voice floated down to me. I groaned. Sherlock's track record of experiments wasn't very good.

"Sherlock-," I began.

"Just lie very still,"

"If I end up with antlers I'm going to kill you,"

"Don't be ridiculous John, that's not even remotely possible, now stop talking,"

I sighed impatiently, and stared angrily at the ceiling. When had I sighed up for this?

"When did I sign up for this?" I asked.

"Yesterday, now shut up,"

I rolled my eyes, "I wasn't home yesterday,"

"What did I just say? Shut up, you're supposed to be dead,"

My head shot up, I caught site of him leaning over me, eyes glazed over like they always were when he was thinking, "excuse me?"

He caught me watching, "John for gods sake lie down, your ruining it!"

I dropped again, "what do you mean?"

"You're recreating a crime scene, you're the victim so for the last time shut up,"

Bloody ridiculous. All I wanted was some well earned sleep, but no, now I was being used as a dead body. In the middle of the night.

And as if it couldn't have got any worse. One minute I was warm. The next I was absolutely bloody freezing. And wet. Christ very wet.

Very wet and very cold in a certain area that really, really didn't agree with cold at all. Holy shit.

I think I jumped a mile.

"Jesus bloody Christ what did you just do?" I spluttered. It felt like that area had been doused in cold water.

I probably had been doused in cold water.

"Shhh," he hissed.

More cold. And more wet, down my legs. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Shit!" I stammered.

Now it was being spread up my waist.

"Sherlock-,"

I had just enough time to see my nutter and so very, very dead flat mate, clutching a bucket of what was unmistakably water, before my face got drenched.

Bloody hell it was freezing! The water drained away and I was spluttering and coughing.

"I am going to kill you!" I yelled at him, forgetting for a moment that it was in fact somewhere around one in the morning, "I am going to kill you!"

"The victim had been in the Thames a while," That was obviously his way of apologising.

"Oh so what did you want to achieve, you want to drown me too? Or give me hypothermia?"

"Exactly John! The victim obviously wasn't drowned. So what, or rather who killed him?"

Now the nutter wasn't even bloody listening. I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. I hoped he finished up soon.

Sherlock's hand suddenly closed around my wrist and I tensed up immediately.

"John! Act dead!" he reprimanded. I scowled, letting my hand go limp.

He pulled my hand into the air, raising it so it was up straight.

Then he held my elbow into position, and started bending by arm, so I was doing, in effect, some bizzare bicep curl. Jesus Christ, why did I let him do things like this?

He lay my hand across my chest carefully.

With the other arm, he seemed to make me do a lazy eight, before arranging my arm over my head. The wet material of my pyjama sleeve stuck to my forehead. God, it was cold! I shivered a little.

"No, don't shiver, your acting dead!" he said immediately.

"Oh I'm sorry, but you're not the one drenched in icy water!" I hissed.

"Shh,"

"If you tell me to shush one more time I will kick you in the face,"

"That will ruin the experiment,"

"Well then, if you shush me one more time, I will kick you in the face later, when you're not expecting it,"

Oh god now he was moving my legs too. Suddenly I felt like I was in the position to ride a bicycle. I bet I looked ludicrous. I sure felt bloody ludicrous. It was not every day you have to lie on the rather hard and uncomfortable lounge floor of your flat, doused in cold water and positioned like a dead man. I bet Mycroft was absolutely loving this.

"Somethings still missing," Sherlock was musing. Fear curled in my stomach. Lord almighty what did he want to do now?

And then something hard and cold was rammed into my face.

"Ow!" I shouted, wanting to say a lot worse, but suppressing it.

"There, I knew he had glasses,"

Glasses. Right.

My nose stung like hell now.

"From his position, it would seem that he received a blow to the back of the head, of some force, and he sprawled out like this,"

I felt the floor shift and heard the soft pattering of his feet on the carpet. He seemed to be moving closer to my head.

"It must have been the force that killed him, then, panicking, the murderer dumped the body in the Thames. So was it an accident? A rash move out of anger?"

"What was the motif?" I grumbled, trying not to grimace as Sherlock's hands started prodding at my head.

"She was in love with him. He payed her no attention,"

My eyes snapped open. My vision was incredibly cloudy thanks to those ridiculous glasses he'd shoved on me.

"She?" I asked, surprised.

He waved at me, annoyed, "close your eyes, and yes it's obviously a she,"

Prod, prod, prod. His fingers went down my back.

"Stop it," I ground my teeth. I was starting to get fed up.

"Shh,"

That was it. I turned. Batted his hands away and stood up shakily. I was exhausted, freezing and in a very bad mood.

"John! Lie back down! I was almost-,"

"I don't care," I said through clenched teeth, "I'm cold and wet and I want to go to bed,"

Before he could turn his puppy eyes on me, I stalked away from him, and the John shaped wet patch in the middle of the lounge.

The cold air was making me shiver violently. Shower. Shower first. I turned and stropped over to the bathroom instead.

I was never letting him do that to me again. Ever.

A/n: A review or two would be lovely! If you have any ideas let me know! Xxx