Title: A Messy Business
Characters: Sherlock, Lestrade, John, will include Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, etc.
Rating: G
Word Count: 221B each (the drabble format I invented for the ACD Holmes fandom years ago)
Warnings: crack fic, fandom trope (see full prompt at link and below), basic episodic spoilers, basic ACD canon spoilers, speculation
Summary: Drabble series fill for for the sherlockbbc_fic meme prompt John is turned into a toddler/young child. He doesn't remember who he was, but he does know that he trusts and loves Sherlock. He likes Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade and, much to Sherlock's annoyance, he even likes Mycroft... Also for the WW prompt for Day 1: Beginnings are always messy.
A/N: I have a weakness for kidfic, as evidenced by my novel-length WIP ST:TOS kidfic, Insontis. So sue me. :P I needed a plot bunny for LJ's watsons_woes MiniWriMo, and this fit the bill. If you don't like trope!fic, then this isn't the story you're looking for. *Jedi hand wave*

"Repeat this after me one more time, Sherlock: Fratricide is a crime," Lestrade remonstrated, unfazed by the glare impaling his skull.

"Have you always been this stupid, Lestrade, or is it something you learnt from Anderson?"

"Oi," came an indignant yell from across the laboratory.

"Shut it," the DI sighed. "Sherlock, I'm not joking; even you can't touch a government official and not have some serious repercussions – I don't care how good the reason is." And God knows the reason's good enough, he thought resignedly, but knew better than to give the amateur more fuel for the metaphorical fire. "I doubt he meant for the outcome to be so…drastic."

"Drastic is the understatement of the century, Lestrade. This is…"

"Unbelievable?"

"Unacceptable," Sherlock snapped. The utter fury in his tone reverberated through the room, producing a small whimper from the vicinity of his knees.

Lestrade resisted the urge to moan. "The notes from the department's research says the effect's supposed to be temporary, the scientists all agree –"

"I don't care about the research, you puerile imbeciles!" The thread of control had snapped with appropriate theatrics, and everyone within hearing distance cringed. Bending down, the detective hefted a squirming, protesting bundle of arms and legs up in the air and held it at arms' length. "This is – gentlemen. This. Is. Very. Bad."