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Since I'm almost done with the Pocket Adventures fics, I've started work on a somewhat dark Kidlock fic that starts right at the end of The Reichenbach Fall and goes off into it's own universe. (AKA, characters get turned into kids, not just stuff that happened when they were kids). Does use minor information from Series 3, but no major spoilers. Got about 6k written so far. Anyone care to beta the first few chapters?
Now that Moriarty was knocked out, it left Sherlock and John free to figure a way out of the car, if not the predicament.
“We can get through there, no problem.” John inspected the small opening between the boot and the back seat. “But then what?”
“It’ll keep us from being discovered by the tow truck driver.” Sherlock squirmed forwards. “And Moriarty is too big to get through here.”
John hurried after him. He only had to stoop a little. “I don’t like being this small, but it’s handy sometimes.”
“With any luck you won’t have time to get used to it.” Sherlock stood up in the slanted trunk and slid backwards. He grabbed ungracefully for a handhold, but found none. John watched as he slid into the dark, followed by a minute thud.
“Sherlock!” John ducked down, grabbing the floor with both hands to prevent sliding.
“I’m fine!” Sherlock grumbled. “Found the taillight. We can push it out if necessary.”
“And then what?” John didn’t crawl forward just yet. “We’re trapped somewhere in London, tiny, and have only ourselves to test the formula on? Assuming the driver doesn’t take him somewhere.”
“I’d rather be like this and out there then stay with Moriarty.” Sherlock replied, massaging his neck. They wouldn’t be able to subdue him again. Testing the formula on anyone but themselves wasn’t going to happen.
John couldn’t argue with that. He let go, preparing to inch down the boot to Sherlock.
“You idiotic nit.” Moriarty hissed, hand curled in John’s clothing, yanking him backwards.
“SHERLOCK!” John wasn’t sure if his cry was a warning, or one for help. Both, maybe. But he was powerless to stop the gigantic man. He was hauled up, Moriarty’s huge limbs coiled around him. He struggled and kicked, but couldn’t hope to win out with sheer strength. He was the size of a doll to Moriarty. A large doll, but still.
He twisted John’s arm behind his back. “When Shirley comes running, I’ll snap your tiny neck, then dispose of him, you worthless little flea.”
John tried to shout, but his windpipe was blocked by a massive arm. He managed a squeak.
“John!” Sherlock scrabbled up the slanted surface, roaring. He couldn’t see what Moriarty was doing, but he heard John cry out in pain. “Leave him alone!”
“Come and get him.” Moriarty did something else unseen, and John cried out again.
Sherlock crested the edge, the spot between safety and danger, crossing it without a second thought. Some part of his mind realized the car had finally stopped. This would be over, one way or another, in a matter of minutes.
Moriarty had an arm under John’s neck. John’s face was red, his lips beginning to turn blue. He was clawing at the massive arm, but there was little and less he could do to hurt someone four times his size.
Moriarty lifted his free hand and placed it on top of John’s head. “Say goodbye, Sherlock.”
“No!” Sherlock dove at him, not knowing how he would stop him, just that he had to.
Nobody expected the deafening SMASH and glass flying about.
Sherlock was knocked down by the flat side of a large piece of glass. He heard John gasp: Moriarty must have let go. He looked up, and saw John laying on his back, coughing, covered in glass shards. Moriarty lay nearby, trying to get to his feet without cutting himself to ribbons.
“Freeze!” A voice thundered from above.
Sherlock’s eyes went wide. “Lestrade?!”
A very confused inspector had his gun trained on the tiny master criminal. “Mycroft sent me. I thought it was a joke.”
“Well, it’s not. Get him!” Sherlock darted forward, snatching John away from Moriarty’s reach. John clutched Sherlock’s costume tightly, still gasping and coughing for breath.
Lestrade kept his gun trained on Moriarty and slowly opened the door. “Mr. Moriarty. Please walk to me with your hands up.”
Moriarty gave him a disinterested look. “And if I don’t, you’ll shoot me, and leave poor little Shirley and John without a hope of getting back to normal.”
“No, I’ll reach in, grab you, and throw you into a shoebox.” Lestrade tucked the gun away. “That was just for show.”
Moriarty slowly raised his hands, smiling. “Well. I am getting bored of being this size.”
“Here, Sherlock.” Lestrade offered a hand, not taking his eyes off Moriarty. “Let me get the two of you out of there.”
Sherlock didn’t put John down, but edged backwards, Doctor in his arms. “Very well. I assume Mycroft called Molly too?”
“Yes. She’s all ready at the lab to do...whatever.” Lestrade was hiding his amazement very well.
Sherlock stepped back onto his hand. John removed his arms from Sherlock’s neck. “Um. You can put me down now.”
“Oh. Um. Of course.” Sherlock released his grip, dropping John to the fleshy surface.
“He was going to kill you.” John stayed close to his friend.
awh yea, i'm big again. Means i can do this*Punches sam in his face, causing him to be knocked out* Sorry sammy, but there's more then enough dean around here.-Dean
*Sulking in the corner*-SH
Sherlock, what if you changed while in the skull. I imagine it would be rather uncomfortable-Delusional!john
