A/N: I checked and the Purple Shirt of Sex doesn't have a breast pocket but let's just pretend it does.

*

"Sher.. Ah- Sherlock!" John giggles, biting Sherlock's finger as the detective tries to get the doctor out of his coat pocket.

Sherlock hisses, pulling his hand out of his pocket. John giggles some more before he pushes himself up and half hangs out of Sherlock's coat pocket, looking up at the pouting detective.

"That was mean" Sherlock mutters, quickly picking John up by his little jumper before he drops him on the table.

John was about to reply when he noticed the large pot of strawberry jam sat beside him. Now he was five inches tall everything seemed a lot bigger obviously but he hadn't been stood right next to a pot of his favourite jam yet.

"Wow, look at all that jam..." He says in awe.

Sherlock frowns down at him before he unscrews the lid of the jam and retrieves a spoon. He scooped jam onto the spoon before placing it on a plate for John to get at easier.

"I don't understand your obsession with jam.."

"And I don't understand why you like to keep body part in the fridge!" John calls, needing to shout for Sherlock to hear thanks to his tiny lungs.

Sherlock rolls his eyes before removing his scarf and coat, leaving him in his purple shirt. He then walks to the other side of the table and sits in front of his microscope. After the little mishap with one of Sherlock's experiment, which caused John's size to rapidly reduce, the detective had been searching for a way to reserve the process. He wanted to have his boyfriend back to his normal size.

John smiles, silently admiring Sherlock at work before he makes his way to the plate. There was a slice of bread on the plate too and John sits, tearing off bits of bread and dipping them into the jam.

To Sherlock or any one of normal size he'd barely eaten a corner of the bread but John felt as though he'd eaten a whole loaf of bread and a whole pot of jam.

All the eating had made him tried. He stretches, letting out a little yawn. He stands, brushing the tiny crumbles off of himself before he walks over to Sherlock. Walking across the table was like walking down a street and it didn't help he was already tired.

When he gets there he tugs on Sherlock's sleeve, getting the detectives attention quickly. Sherlock looks away from the microscope and down at John. He then wordless holds out his hand. John climbs on before Sherlock slides him into his breast pocket.

John takes hold of Sherlock's finger, the one he'd bitten and presses his lips to the skin.

Sherlock chuckles "Goodnight John"

John mutters a reply, doubting Sherlock heard him. It would have been hard for Sherlock to hear even if they were the same size. John rolls over and snuggles against Sherlock's warm chest.

The beat of Sherlock's heart is like a lullaby to John and soon his curled up, sleeping peacefully.