~~Animal!lock. Hope you lovelies enjoy!~~

It was a quiet, uneventful day in Baker Forest. Named solely for the old chef who had supposedly lived there once, the woods was also known for its collection of eccentric animals. The tales that had been passed through generations and generations of children about said animals were merely old wives' tales.

That is until a man residing in a little, red cabin by the colossal oak tree smack dab in the middle of Baker Forest proved those old legends wrong.

It was a quiet, uneventful day in Baker Forest. As it usually did, John Watson's alarm announced with an incessant beeping that the morning had begun. And as John usualy did, he prodded the snooze button with his finger at least twice. He really was never a morning person.

But once he opened his brown eyes and was greeted by the new day's sunlight streaming through the window, he finally stretched--cat-like almost--and trudged, still drowsy with sleep, out of his bedroom all the way to the kitchen to boil to the kettle for his morning cuppa.

Then the normal routine ensued. Tea? Check. Fresh jumper? Check. Toast with strawberry jam? Check. John Watson's morning was perfect.

Well. Until he broke his morning routine, and instead of completing a crossword like he normally did, he decided to get some fresh air.

The forest was beautiful in the spring. It smlled of fresh rain, of new life, and of hope. The different hues of green from trees and plants introduced the bright purple, red, yellow, and pink shades of flowers and berries.

John was humming quietly to himself; it was a certain song by the name of All of Me he had heard on the radio the other day. He was enjoying the warm sun filtering through the trees that was painting light on his face.

And then he heard the squealing. It was short pips almost. High pitched shrieks of hurt.

And it was coming from an animal.

John had always had a soft spot for animals, whether they were lions or elephants or dogs or lizards. All of them were unusually amazing in a way.

So of course John went to search for the source of the noise. He found it. By the Hudson's riverbank. It was a tangled mess of an animal, but it was an animal alright. Its long body was covered in dark brown fur matted with blood, water, and mud. Its four paws were bloodied, stained crimson from God knew what. And its beady, black eyes stared uneesing into the water as the animal's stubby snout twitched occasionally.

John crouched by the animal, carefully taking it into his arms. Once he put all of the facts together, he realized he was carrying an otter. A mangled otter, but an otter it sure was.

"I'll take care of you, little guy," John said as soothingly as possible. The otter replied with a soft grunt. John cautiously returned to his cabin, careful not to injure the otter more than he already was.

Once back in his home sweet home, John carefully laid the otter on his table, instantly attending to his wounds. He extracted the pieces of bark and rocks from the creature's limp paws, then wrapped each of the mounds of fur in cloth. The animal stirred ever so slightly as John took a single step backwards.

The blonde man disappeared into the kitchen; consquently, his vision to the table was shielded by cabinets.

John exits, carrying a small bowl of water. But the bowl drops to the ground, shattering into a pile of china.

Instead of that innocent, little otter he had rescued, there was a grown man. Curled up in a fetal position, all John could see was his ebony curls and slender, porcelain limbs.

"What the hell?" John sputtered out. His jaw is dropped in shock, and it drops even more when the man lifts his head slightly.

"Thank you for caring for me. Not much people would help a lovely otter like me." His voice drips with sarcasm out of pale, pink lips.

"Erm...how did you...what...you're an....otter....human..." John shakes his head in disbelief.

"I'm a shapeshifter, actually," the human-otter says boredly.

"And you're also nude. On my kitchen table."

"Oh yes. Quite sorry about that. Sometimes I can't control when a change. A bugger, it is." The man sat up, his spindly limbs going every which way. John noticed that the cloth he had tied around the otter's paws were now tied around the human's hands and feet.

"I'll...um...get you something to put on." John strides past him, covering the profile of his face with his hand. He grabs a dressing gown he rarely uses off of the hook on the back of his bedroom door before returning to the living room. He throws the article of clothing towards the pale man, not uncovering his eyes until he hears the thunk of feet on the wood floor.

"I'm Sherlock. And you're John, yes?"

John looks up with inquisitive eyes. "Yes."

"You're a shapeshifter too," Sherlock states. His brother, Mycroft, had told him to be gentle with the "rookie." But as always, Sherlock disregarded his orders.

"Oh, no, no, no. I'm not an animal!" John exclaims in denial.

"Haven't you ever wondered why creatures like you so much?"

"No. Of course not."

"Have you ever noticed your interest in all different species of animals?"

"Yes, I've noticed--"

Sherlock cuts in, "And have you ever noticed how much you resemble a hedgehog?"

"A what?!"

"A little ball of fur and spiky things."

"I know what it is." John grits his teeth. "But I'm not a...little ball of fur and spiky things."

"But you can be!" Sherlock steps forward and presses his index fingertips to the inside of John's wrists. He focuses on his pulse and urges it to become stronger and stronger.

When John opens his eyes again, everything has become miniature. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a little noise between a squeak and a squeal.

"See?! A hedgehog!" Sherlock's voice is much louder now, echoing into John's tiny ears. The otter shapeshifter scoops up the little hedgehog into his hand and strokes his back comfortingly. John attempts to converse, but again, he just kind of shrieks. Sherlock grins so wide he resembles a small child on Christmas morning.

"My brother should be arriving fairly soon." Sherlock carries his hedgehog over to the window, peeking out through the glass until he spots a dark great-horned owl. John has erupted into a series of cries now; all he wanted was to become human again.

Sherlock pops open the window, and the owl flies in quite gracefully. He swoops around his brother's dark hair before perching on his shoulder.

"Mycroft," Sherlock growls. "Stop playing games."

The owl hoots loudly, and John realizes he can understand him.

"Now, now, brother dear. You have to be patient with the new ones." The owl was saying. He laughs manically before taking flight again. He soars through the air, and in a blink of an eye, he's human, dressed in a nicely-tailored suit. John begins his chrous of squeals again as he prances around in Sherlock's flat palm.

"He's obviously frightened, brother mine," Mycroft shakes his head, softly tsking. Sherlock just kind of rolls his eyes before setting John back on the wooden cabin floor. The hedgehog gets a sort of tingling in his chest before the world swirls into action.

"I'm a hedgehog," is the first thing John says once he's human again.

"Obviously," Mycroft looks at his nails.

"But..."

"The science is very much unexplainable, and we don't have time for that nonsense."

"I'll explain it to you later, my little hedgehog." Sherlock ruffles John's hair so it sticks up in greying-blonde tufts. The otter leans forward and pecks the hedgehog on the nose before swiveling around and following his brother out to the beautiful wilderness. John hurries after them, not wanting to be left behind or clueless any longer. The two Holmes brother leads him to the Hudson river where there waited a chubby chipmunk, an innocent orange cat, and a sly fox swishing its tail back and forth almost seductively.

"John. These are the shapeshifters who have found a place in Baker Forest. One of my eldest friends, Gavin Lestrade," Sherlock explains. The chipmunk chases around his feet in a circle, chattering his teeth.

"Molly Hooper." The cat bows its head shyly.

"And Irene Adler." Sherlock gestures to the fox. Her beady black eyes stared luringly into John's blue pupils.

"We call ourselves an army of sorts. Our goal in the forest in to defeat Moriarty, the great rabbit," Mycroft says.

John thought this was all a bit peculiar. Who knew he would've woken up this morning and by noon, he had found out he was a shapeshifter?! Definetely not anyone in their right mind. But he didn't think this was a dream...if it was, it was actually quite an enjoyable dream.

"John? Are you going to join our division?" Sherlock asks, head cocked to one side. With that final word, Lestrade erupts into happy chattering again.

"Sure." And with that, John felt the tingling in his chest again before the world went spinning. Next thing he knew, he was on the ground again, joined by an otter and an owl. Together they--along with the cat, the chipmunk, and the fox--skipped down the riverbank at each of their own animal paces to take down the evil bunny, Moriarty.

~~So. About that. I hoped you liked it. Comment, vote, fangirl a little or a lot, draw fanart. Any is good. But I really have to thank this amazing girl for actually helping me through my writer's block and giving me this prompt to write. It was my privilege and a pleasure, Tori! <3333 *throws you hedgehogs and otters to cuddle with and stay warm in the freezing cold land named Canada* She is a super-duper amazing person/editor so go follow her immeadietely! Like now, right now.~~