Part two, in which Molly receives a harrassed phone call.

Summary: The day after John recovers from Molly’s de-aging potion, Sherlock decides to repeat the experiment on himself. Things do not go quite as planned.

Rated: PG, no warnings, no slash, Sherlock and John friendship fic.

Part one up here.

Note: This story is a continuation of sorts to alice_day’s wonderful fic When The Bough Breaks, which I liked so much that my muse decided I needed to write a sequel.

“What do you mean, ‘loses potentcy’??”

“Just what I said!” Molly Hooper had had stranger weeks, probably. And more stressful ones. Offhand she couldn’t remember any. “The Mayfly extract in the antidote only lasts about 48 hours. How long ago did he take the original potion?”

“About twelve or  - Sherlock, no! Put that down! - twelve or thirteen hours.”

“And how much did he age when he took the antidote?”

“A year; eighteen months. I’d say he looks about two years old now.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Not just by looking. What do you want me to do, count his tree rings?”

“Don’t be sarcastic; I need to know his exact age to re-configure the potion!” Molly took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “There’s a mathematical difference. The first potion made him six months old, but he’s two years old now. So if we give him the original antidote, the one configured for a six-month old baby, the differential will be off, and it might turn him into a pensioner or something!”

John pretended he knew what the hell she was on about. “Right. Okay. Fine. So, once I get his exact age, how long until - Oi! Sherlock! That eyeball is not a sweetie!”

Molly heard a baby-pitched wail through the receiver, supposedly as John removed the dismembered orb from Sherlock’s mouth. Molly knew that kind of wail. She had four younger brothers. She ruffled a hand through her hair and answered John’s unfinished question. “With any luck? Two days; one at the soonest.”

John sputtered. “Two - ! Bloody… Why the hell didn’t you tell us the antidote had an expiry date when you gave it to us?!”

“Why the - heck - didn’t you ask me before your flatmate went gulping down more potion in the first place? You’re a doctor; you know better than to let a patient take someone else’s prescription!”

John opened his mouth, then closed it again. “He didn’t…I wasn’t…okay, fine. You know what; you can talk to him about it. When you get him back to normal.”

“Fine.” Molly heard a sudden crash over the receiver. John groaned…whatever Sherlock had just destroyed must have been expensive. “Right. Well, I can hear you’ve got your hands full. Call me back when you’ve got the data and let me know.”

She rang off and rubbed her eyes. If the Ministry didn’t have her wand over this, she swore she would never again use recreational magic within a billion kilometres of a Muggle - human, cat, or otherwise - as long as she lived.

To be continued…