"John! John, John, John!"

"What now?"

Sherlock swiveled on his bar stool, almost tripping himself as he tried to stand with his feet still tangled on the stool supports.

"Look!" He darted across the kitchen, foaming beaker still in hand. "I've created a solution that foams but instantly solidifies with one drop of gastrointestinal juice!"

Sherlock nearly tripped over a pile of newspapers on the floor as he hurried to John. "Look." He switched the beaker to his left hand and twisted the pipette between his right fingers to get a better position before depositing one drop of gastrointestinal juice into the beaker. Almost immediately, the foam disintegrated into a chalky, but solid, formula in the bottom. He looked away from the beaker to John, a sardonic smile lifting his lips. Oh, this one had had him going for ages, how wonderful it was to finally reach a point of possible conclusion.

"Erm," John muttered, rolling up his newspaper and pushing the beaker away with it. "Where did you acquire gastrointestinal juice, Sherlock?"

"It's not toxic, John!" Sherlock complained, although he held the beaker closer to him lest John should knock it right out of his hands. "And the matter of acquiring objects is never hard if you know where to look, but you don't properly understand the significance of my experiment!"

"No, no, I don't. What is the significance, Sherlock?"

"You see, John, with this substance-" he broke off abruptly, looking back to the beaker in hand. It was growing warm... too warm... almost hot even. He blinked shortly before quickly retreating back to the kitchen, placing the beaker down with almost too much force. "It's generating heat now, why would it generate heat? If it continues-" There was a crack, all too telltale. A glass object heated too quickly could procure some-

He dodged out of the kitchen before the beaker exploded, tiny shards of glass showering the room where he had just recently been standing.

"Shit- Sherlock, are you okay?" John's voice was nearer, coming close to inspect damage. But Sherlock wasn't paying attention to him.

"The experiment went as planned up until a point where it was allowed to sit, idly, in which it conducted heat, strong heat, far too strong for even glass to contain. What makes it so hot? Now, that's interesting," he muttered to himself, briefly glancing around for his shoes.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Not now, John! Don't you see?" he replied, shoving his feet into his shoes before darting back into the kitchen (not without a protest from John about the broken glass, but that's why he had put shoes on!). "If this happens with only one drop, could you imagine the sort of explosion that could come from a human stomach's quantity of it? This, this is heartburn, John, compared to the sort of pain it could be! It could be a new murder weapon- murder from the inside out! Oh, I have got to get a body." He brought his hands together quickly, surveying what was left of the beaker. "This could be legendary, John, don't just stand there, phone Lestrade! Tell him I need a body, preferably already dead! Go, go!"

He grabbed the remains of the beaker, his free hand going for a stirring stick to provoke the leftover solution further.

In which the author knows nothing about anything that Sherlock is babbling on about here. xD But. Despite the he's-doing-some-obscure-experiment-that-no-one-wou ld-understand, I think it's [he's] adorable.

Up next... Sherlock's Babbling.

Thanks for the support!