Day 2: Slime
Slick
(Rated K+)
In Sherlock's defence, the chemical had been created using only nontoxic substances, even though it was never intended for human consumption. Yes, John had told him on multiple occasions that his teakettle was strictly off limits for any experiment that Sherlock could dream up, but it was John's fault that he was missing so many beakers. The insufferable man had insisted on throwing several away when he discovered the presence of maggots in them.
The experiment had been conducted purely out of boredom. His bacteria samples were still incubating, and he had acquired a generous amount of banana slug slime from his previous case. The victim, as it so happened, had ingested copious amounts of the slime, numbing his body so he couldn't feel the pain. Pouring the slime into the teakettle, Sherlock combined it with several ingredients to thin it down and increase its potency. Pleased with his results, Sherlock placed the kettle back on the counter where he promptly forgot about it.
So really, Sherlock couldn't be blamed for what happened next. If John had spent more time studying what was in the kettle, he would have realised it wasn't water. If John was more observant, he would have noticed that the kettle was at least fifteen centimetres further away from the stove than it normally was. And really, how was Sherlock supposed to know that his little concoction would have such interesting results?
After a long day of chasing criminals around London, all John Watson could think about doing was making a cup of tea. He flipped on the kettle, and after scrounging around in the refrigerator, finding a bit of milk to his joyful surprise, he began to prepare the mugs, kettle whistling not long after.
John carried his tea to the lounge, setting a mug in front of the nearly catatonic Consulting Detective. He rolled his eyes, moving to his favourite chair, settling in for a nice, quiet night of reading. The fact that he had consumed over half the mug of tea before he noticed the odd flavour and strange numbing sensation was a testament to how badly he needed his tea. A stronger testament, however, was the fact that he continued to drink it, not bothering to care that something was clearly off.
Cup of tea gone, John's bed looked more and more inviting. With a final, cursory glance at Sherlock, who was still locked in his Mind Palace, he made his way up the staircase, numbness and exhaustion flowing over him in waves with every step. He barely made it to his bed, collapsing on it without bothering to change, his legs hanging limply off the bed, his toes brushing the floor.
Sherlock's cup of tea lay forgotten and cooling, never moving from its position on the coffee table.
The next morning finds John in a bit of a predicament. He wakes up in what feels like a cold sweat, though for the life of him he can't remember having a nightmare that would cause a bodily reaction like that. He stumbled down the stairs, making his way to the bathroom quickly. Flipping on the light, John stared in the mirror. It looked as if every inch of his skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat. He swiped a hand over his face, horrified to discover that it wasn't sweat that was covering his body. It was slime.
"Sherlock!" John called hoarsely, unable to take his eyes off his face. He stripped his shirt off, disgusted with the way the fabric clung to his slick skin. "Sherlock, get your bloody arse in here!"
John could hear the sounds of Sherlock stirring, making his way from the lounge to the bathroom. The Detective looked grumpy about being distracted from his thoughts, though his frown didn't last very long, confusion quickly taking its place upon seeing John.
"John, you're all…is that a new cologne you're wearing?"
"What?" John turned away from the mirror, shooting a glare at him. "Could we focus on more important things, like the fact that my body is covered in…Christ, whatever this is, slime?"
"Unimportant." Sherlock replied, walking over to John and burying his nose in his neck. "That smell…John, why do you smell so good?"
"I don't smell anything, you idiot." John rolled his eyes, pushing him away. It took a lot more effort than normal, the substance on his body was incredibly sticky. The detective, for his part, looked properly chastised.
"I am not positive on how you ended up this way." Sherlock said, rubbing the fantastic smelling substance off his nose. "What have you consumed in the last few hours?"
"I had a cup of tea last night. Other than that, nothing." John answered, trying to rub the slime off of himself. "Why, do you think it was something that-"
John turned to find that the other man had vanished. He walked out of the bathroom, peeking into Sherlock's bedroom before walking towards the lounge, confused to find him inspecting a mug carefully, sniffing the contents as though they might be poisoned.
"What on earth are you doing?" John asked, crossing his arms only to uncross them again, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
"John, the tea you brewed…did you empty out the kettle before you brewed it?"
"No." John answered, eyeing Sherlock. "Why? What the hell did you do to my teakettle?"
"A minor experiment with banana slug slime." Sherlock waved his hand impatiently, "Apparently it was stronger than I thought. Banana slugs have extremely strong slime, almost to the point of being adhesive. Not only that, but you seem to be releasing a pheromone, something else that you have in common with the slugs."
"You put slug slime into my tea?" John growled, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Technically you did." He replied, which seemed the wrong thing to say. One moment he was standing, and the next he was lying on the ground, an angry army doctor pinning him down.
"Sherlock Holmes, you fix this right now." John hissed.
"It should leave your system in a matter of hours." Sherlock replied, trying to unglue the doctor from him. "Once you excrete the chemical, you should go back to normal."
"Good." John said. "Because I don't want to be giving off pheromones and slime, thank you very much."
"The pheromones are a bit distracting." Sherlock admitted, attempting to breathe through his mouth. "And I shall be glad to get you back. You're distracting enough as it is."
Sherlock froze at the admission, and John glare went soft, a smile tugging at his lips. "Good to know. You're a bit distracting too, but I think you already knew that."
Before either of them could realise what a terrible idea it would be, they pressed their lips together, their kiss saying what words couldn't.
"John, I believe we are stuck together." Sherlock said, his lips connected with John's. John grinned, wishing that he could move his hand from where it was still clutched in Sherlock's shirt.
"Yeah, but I kind of like it this way." He replied, earning a smirk out of Sherlock. And even though their lips were stuck together, they managed to kiss each other again, and it was just as glorious the second time.