Since Mycroft decided a minimal amount of people should have contact with John and Sherlock when they're in this state, he's given his staff - minimal though it usually is - the week off. Which leaves him and Anthea in the house, while Lestrade promised that he would stop by as often as work permits. The next morning, Anthea slips into the room, smiling as she sees the sleeping forms of the boys, who have moved a little closer in sleep, most of their bodies still distant from each other, but their legs tangled together under the covers.
Shaking her head a little, Anthea clears away the tray from last night and brings in some bags that have a few days' worth of clothes in them, one for each of the boys, before she walks over and shakes Sherlock's shoulder gently, figuring he is the safer one to wake first since he doesn't have army reflexes.
With a small grunt and an unhappy noise, Sherlock turns onto his back a little. "What?" he snaps, then he frowns, his mind catching up as to what happened, and who is there waking him up. At which point he just sighs a little, one hand lifting to rub at his eyes. "What time is it?" he asks groggily, looking over at John's peaceful form as he starts to shift away.
"Nearly seven. Mycroft thought it would be wise to get you on a regular sleeping schedule, and he is aware that John is probably normally an early riser." Anthea explains, then adds, "Breakfast will be ready at 8, there's two bags of clothes, one for each of you. I'm to take you shopping for the rest today." She explains before she smiles. "I'll let you wake up Dr. Watson." She says quietly, before she pauses. "Oh. There's also some toiletries in the bags, we thought it wise to stick with your normal brands since they would be fine for your ages." She says before she walks out and closes the door behind her.
With a little huff, Sherlock glares at Anthea without much effort behind it, before he turns back toward John. "John." He says as he looks at the man, then he props himself up on one elbow in order to have the other arm free to reach out and shake the little doctor gently. "John, wake up." He says again as he watches the seemingly younger boy.
It's probably a good thing that Anthea didn't try to wake John, because while he may be smaller now, he does still have a soldier's instincts. So when he wakes with a start to see a possible attacker hovering over him, he responds aggressively, ending up crouched over Sherlock with one hand on his shoulder to hold him down, the other drawn back ready to hit him. Thankfully he realizes who it is before he can land that punch, and then he collapses somewhat on top of Sherlock. "Bloody hell, Sherlock.." he says as he rolls to the side onto his back. "I thought.. I don't know what I thought, I'm sorry. I should have warned you.. Are you alright?" he asks, sitting up and looking extremely distressed and worried, though his hair sticking up all over the place doesn't help him look any more serious.
Nodding a little, Sherlock smirks as he looks over at John. "It's ok, John. I'm alright." He says as he runs a hand through his hair, then reaches out both hands to smooth down some of John's, frowning briefly in concentration as he pats down the worst of the flyaway's. "Better." He announces with a firm nod. "Breakfast is in an hour. Anthea brought clothes and toiletries for us." He explains as he gets off the bed and walks over to the bags, bringing them back to the bed one at a time and upending them to dump everything out. "Ah. That's yours." He says as he points to one pile that has some jumpers in it. "I'm going to take a shower. Punishment for trying to hit me." He says with a little smirk, sticking his tongue out at John before he snatches up his clothes and toiletries and rushes to the bathroom, closing the door quickly behind him.
A little surprised at the frankly childish behavior from Sherlock, John laughs a little, sliding off the bed to organize their clothes, putting some aside for himself for the day, before he wanders over and starts putting them away in the wardrobe, hanging up a few of his own and Sherlock's shirts before he puts the clothes below the respective sides. After he's done, he returns to make the bed the best he can considering he can't barely lean over it. And he refuses to use the step stool since he thinks that's a bit demeaning. He never needed one before, and he does not need one now.
When Sherlock comes back out, hair still a bit damp and curling at the ends. He looks around at the room, then sighs. "You are obsessively neat, John." he observes in an almost scolding tone, shaking his head a little. "You had better hurry or you won't finish your shower before breakfast. How is your shoulder?" he asks in concern as he walks over and tugs at John's shirt until he can pull it aside and look at his shoulder, frowning a little at what he sees. Without saying anything, he grabs John's arm and drags him into the bathroom to stand in front of the full-length mirror. "Take off your shirt." he demands as he starts tugging at the hem.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John demands as he gets dragged, pouting a little, but he sighs, stripping off his shirt. "What is this all about?" He asks, looking at his younger, slightly pudgy self in the mirror with a little frown before he looks at Sherlock, not sure what he's supposed to be looking at.
Moving around behind John after he's removed his shirt, Sherlock leans down and examines John's shoulder, poking at the skin around the scarring for a few moments. "Does this scarring appear to be.. less severe than before?" He asks as he looks at his friend, moving around in front of him to examine that part of the scar.
While he's never really examined it closely before, John pushes Sherlock aside so he can lean toward the mirror, lifting his hand and touching it for a few moments, pressing around the edges as he examines it. "It does seem a little smaller.. but it's hard to tell, because it was smaller when I became smaller.. it doesn't really hurt when I press on it anymore though." He says as he presses around the edges, frowning a little. "Do you think that there might be lingering effects besides the initial change to our younger bodies? Older or more severe injuries may take longer to reverse?" he guesses as he looks at Sherlock, then considers, taking one of his arms and shoving the sleeve up. He's seen the marks before from Sherlock's colorful youth, and since they're less severe than his scar, but more severe than your average scarring.
Knowing what John is trying to do, Sherlock surrenders his arm after a brief tug-of-war, looking away from the doctor since he feels a little ashamed. But he's still curious, so after a moment he looks back at his arm, helping John to get the sleeve of his dress shirt up, turning his arm a little to look at the inside of it, and the very visible veins that his pale skin provides. "Well. That is unexpected." Sherlock admits as he looks at his now flawless skin, unscarred. And just in case he was mistaken which way he used to do it, he shoves up his other sleeve as well, looking at the skin there and shaking his head.
Lowering his head a little to examine Sherlock's skin more closely, John places both his hands on the taller boy's elbow, pressing into the skin lightly as he frowns, which just makes him look adorable. "There's no scarring at all, no apparent damage, even subdural." He says as he looks up at Sherlock, then he turns and twists his arm a little to look at the tattoo. "But my tattoo isn't fading." He adds, seeming even more confused about that.
"Perhaps because it's not damage. It's a pigmentation, but there is no scarring, no damage. Theoretically you could have gotten it as easily now as you would when you are older. The bigger question is, if I find an antidote, will we regain the scars or will they remain gone." Sherlock says thoughtfully as he looks down over at John's shoulder, then at his own arms before he folds his sleeves down. "I think we should keep this to ourselves until we find out more. No doubt Mycroft has a torture session with a doctor." He hesitates, before he adds, "I would like you to remain in the room while I'm with the doctor." He says quietly, then adds, "I don't trust anyone Mycroft would employ." He says simply as he watches John, grabbing onto his arm for a moment, feeling self-conscious.
Nodding a little, John smiles as he watches his friend, then gives him a brief, but firm hug. "Now get out so I can get a shower." he says with a charming grin, pushing Sherlock out of the bathroom and shutting the door on him with a snicker before he starts up the shower.
Making a small sound of objection, Sherlock makes sure his cuffs are buttoned before he moves over to pick up the clothes John had set out for himself, shaking his head for a few moments as he gathers it up, waiting until he hears John enter the shower so as not to interfere with his privacy too much before he brings the clothes in. "You forgot your clothes, I'm putting them on the counter." He calls as he glances over at the shower curiously for a few moments.
John can't help but giggle a little. "Right. Blimey, I feel scatter brained. Thanks, Sherlock!" He chirps, amused and apparently regaining some of his boyish energy it seems.
Giving the shower curtain a dubious look, Sherlock shakes his head and walks back out, leaving John to his routine before he starts pacing the room, having an overabundance of energy himself. At least he's already kicked the nicotine thing, but he's rapidly getting bored, to the point of flipping on the tellie and seeing if there is anything amusing there. Upon finding nothing, he turns it off and throws the remote toward the TV. It falls horribly short, though at least he's throwing it in the right direction.
"You throw like a girl." John says playfully as he comes out from the bathroom, hair still damp but he's dressed, and laughing a little at the glare that he gets from Sherlock. "You're bored, aren't you?" he asks, amused as he walks over to Sherlock. "We should explore the grounds after breakfast, if we're not stuck with the doctors. I bet you and I could get into all kinds of mischief." He says with a broad grin, grabbing Sherlock's hand. "Come on, I'm starving!" he says as he heads toward the door.
A few blinks of surprise as Sherlock is dragged toward the door, and he strides quickly after his friend. "You seem to be enjoying your newfound youth." he notes as he watches John, not able to get into it quite as well because he didn't have any sort of happy childhood, and he was closed off at such an early age. He didn't really intend to get into trouble, but he always seemed to, during the pursuit of his desire to learn.
John considers as he steps outside the door, letting Sherlock lead the way toward the kitchens. "Well, you're the brilliant one, Sherlock. You did this, and if anyone is going to reverse it, it's you." He explains as he looks at the brunette. "I can't really do anything to help besides provide moral support. You didn't get much of a childhood, if you grew up in places like this, so maybe that's something I can do for you." He offers with a little grin, shrugging a little for a few moments. "You're my best friend, Sherlock. Believe it or not. You point it out on a weekly basis, and I know no one is as brilliant as you are. But you're not normal, you know?" he asks as he looks at him. "You're all in here." he says, tapping his head. "You have a lot of walls, and you protect yourself so well. I just thought.. maybe if I could show you what being a kid was like for me, then maybe it would.. I dunno.. free up some of that precious hard drive space.. delete the bits about being broody." he says with a little grin as he glances at Sherlock again, then looks around the corridor, holding onto the railing as he descends the stairs.
Following John's little speech, Sherlock says nothing, just thinking about everything that the other man - boy, now - said while he descends the stairs as well. "I didn't have much of a childhood, no. And you are my best friend as well, John." He says before he adds, "As long as there is no detrimental effects to our health, I suppose there's no rush in getting the antidote besides our own impatience to return to what we were." he says quietly as he looks at John for a few moments. "You're brilliant in your own way. And you are a wonderful focus, you ask questions I would not have thought of, bring me to a solution quickly." He says slowly before he looks over at his friend, stopping in the hallway to watch him. "Thank you." He hesitates and then pulls the smaller boy into a hug. "I'll try to.. learn. We can go explore after breakfast." He says, then his stomach promptly growls and he steps back from John to stare down at himself.
Looking a little surprised as well, John stares at Sherlock's stomach, and then he snickers a little. "Come on. Let's eat." he says with a nod of his head. The hug surprised him as well, but he doesn't mind it so much, it just means that he's breaking through a few of Sherlock's walls. He leads the rest of the way into the kitchen where, oddly enough, Anthea is cooking, having an apron over a nice shirt and a nice pair of slacks, but not exactly a suit. For Anthea, it's downright casual.
"You're late. Just like children to be late." Anthea says with a slight smirk before she puts two plates on the table along with orange juice. "No caffeine for you two, I'm afraid." She says with a smirk. "It might stunt your growth." She says with a pointed look at John.
"That's quite enough, Anthea." Sherlock says in defense of John, frowning a little. "Our growth is predetermined, I doubt that a cup of tea or coffee would stunt our growth. And if that is a concern with caffeine, you could have served us decaffeinated drinks." he points out as he sits down.
Blushing a little despite himself, and the fact that he's getting a bit annoyed, John chooses to remain silent and sits down, starting to eat and staring at his plate, remembering that he was always small until he was around 15, when he finally got a proper growth spurt. Not that he ended up being that tall, but it was better than before the growth spurt.
Anthea glances between the two for a few moments, considering how defensive Sherlock is of John, and how close the two seem to be, as if they were always together. Like they had known each other for years instead of just months. And that makes her happy, because as much as she's known about Sherlock over the years, she thought he would always be alone, without any friends and without anyone to love. Now she has hope that will be different.
"My apologies, Sherlock. I'll make sure to purchase some."
I am glad I'm able to make these chapters a little longer, I don't think my normal shorter chapters would really do it justice. As far as the psuedo-science. Yeah. I got nothin'. I'm just making stuff up to suit my story. :D Hope you guys like this, I am loving writing these two adorable boys. :)
As always, comments/reviews are welcome!