[This is nonsense, as far as he's concerned. Except when it isn't.
John finds himself tensing, eyes following the laser pointer. It's just a laser pointer. It's nothing a human would bother with, other than to roll their eyes. The tip of John's tail flicks back and forth.
It's perhaps half a minute of fighting with the instincts before the cat wins out. The doctor lunges for the frustratingly enticing dot of light. He'll try to cover it with his hand. If and when Sherlock moves it, John will follow after, chasing the light and making a very solid attempt at catching it. There's a small, human voice in the back of his head yelling that this is ridiculous and he needs to stop. Now. It's drowned out for the time being.]
[Sherlock marks down a result of thirty seven seconds before the cat instincts won out over the human one, and then a result of fifty nine seconds for Berit when she finally joins in the game to hunt the laser pointer.
He should turn it off now that he has that data, but this is far too amusing and he has time for the other experiments, so he starts to direct the little red dot to on top of furniture or up the curtains to see just how dexterous John can become with these instincts fuelling him.]
[John's balance is markedly improved thanks to his tail, but he's still a human in his late-thirties. It takes him about as long to mount the furniture as it might otherwise. There's no hesitation in the actions, though. His focus is singular for several minutes until he winds up pulling the curtains down on top of himself and Berit in a bid to get the light.
His tail fluffs up, and he darts away from that to hide. It's as he's crouching near a cabinet, panting lightly, that he realizes exactly what he's doing. When he does, there's embarrassment followed by anger. John stands, planting his hands on the counter and glaring at his friend.]
[Sherlock is outright laughing by the time Berit gets tangled up under some fallen curtains and John returns to his right mind by the cabinet. He doesn't reply for a moment, just setting down the laser pointer and making notes on the duration of the cat behaviour, the nature of it, and what seemed to be the trigger to returning to a human state of mind.
Only then does he turn back to John, still grinning widely.]
Seems a shame to stop now that we've started, don't you think? We might as well do it all now, or I'll simply get the results myself when you're not expecting it.
[Surely letting Sherlock experiment for an hour or so is a lesser evil than having to distrust everything handed to him for the next few days?]
[That does give John pause. He really doesn't want to indulge Sherlock; it's the principle of the thing! But dealing with his curiosity is going to be beastly. Why did he want to make up with this man?
John's tail lashes again, a sure sign that he's given in.]
You're cleaning up any of the mess from these experiments.
[Like that curtain. The doctor turns back around and stalks over to the other man, crossing his arms and staring at him silently, waiting.]
He beams right up until Berit finally manages to get out from under the curtains and leaps at him, digging her claws as deeply as she can into his calf, then the smile becomes a sudden yelp.]
You needn't think I'll be gentle taking blood this time. John, take your blood pressure and pulse again, you know the drill by now.
[He grabs his stupid Heart and goes about extracting blood and monitoring the other two variables.]
[John smirks as Berit attacks Sherlock. Serves him right.
His blood pressure and pulse are elevated, but that's, perhaps, understandable after he's been running around. He suspects Sherlock being himself is partly responsible for the elevated readings, as well.
The mention of catnip has the doctor frowning.]
That stuff doesn't always work on every cat, you know?
[John's desperately hoping it will have no effect on him, whatsoever.]
[Berit's readings are the same, mostly because she's a part of Sherlock and her blood pressure and pulse readings are tied to him rather than herself. She doesn't look happy as she's put back down and the bag of catnip appears.]
I'm aware of that, but no result will still be a valid one to catalogue. Now, I believe it's your choice if you eat it or simply inhale the scent.
[He hands a bag to John and scatters the other on the ground near Berit.]
[John takes the bag and holds it at arm's length for a moment, wary of finding himself affected by the damn thing. Sherlock probably won't let it go, though. He'll just take a quick sniff and then Sherlock can count it as an experiment completed.
A quick sniff swiftly becomes something much longer as John's slitted pupils expand. He dips his nose into the bag and then upturns the entire thing on the floor without much thinking about the consequences of that. It's only a moment before he's knelt in the middle of it spreading it out along the ground and putting is nose down to it.]
[Unfortunately for John's pride, Berit is one of the cats that isn't at all affected by the catnip. She gives it one sniff and then sits down, watching John with her tail slowly swaying from side to side.
Sherlock marks down the approximate amount of catnip needed for the initial reaction, and then immediately gets his phone out to start recording this. Perhaps that isn't the most scientific thing to be doing, but... come on, his flatmate is kneeling down amidst catnip.]
[Kneeling becomes rolling in it, getting it all over his clothes and face. When Sherlock calls his name, John shifts onto his back and looks over at his friend silently. He sees the phone and is aware in a vague way that he's being filmed. That doesn't register as much of a problem in this moment.]
Yeah.
[He raises a hand and makes a swipe at some dust motes he can see.]
Can you describe to me exactly what you're feeling?
[He has a rather impish urge to get the laser pointer out again and see what happens, but instead he reaches into one of his cupboards and gets out a cardboard box. It's only about three feet by three feet, big but not huge. He wants to see if this will have any additional fun effects.]
[No sooner is the box out than John sits up to stare at it, tail flicking. He licks some of the catnip off of his hand and then takes another roll in it before pushing himself up to a crouch. It only takes John a few moments to mentally calculate the distance, and then he's springing toward the box. He lands partway in and sends it skittering as he gets the rest of the way in and settles so that he can stare up at Sherlock and blink slowly.]
Is this what cocaine feels like? S'good. Like... a buzz, but I'm not tired.
As it is, John is a very happy cat, and he doesn't particularly care what he's doing as long as it feels good. That will be ending once the catnip wears off in a few more minutes, but for the time being...
John just hums and runs a hand through his hair, scattering catnip before rubbing his cheek along the edge of the box and biting at it lightly a few times. He looks up at Sherlock after that and shoves at the edge of the box, sitting back in it.]
[It's absolutely fascinating to see the level of detail in the cat behaviour, he'd very much like to know how these spells are done and what in the brain they alter exactly. Because John is still John, he's just John as a cat.
That, however, takes him by surprise.]
No.
[It's a fairly immediate answer. He doesn't want to pet his best friend, and he's relatively sure that John doesn't actually want to be petted.]
[He crouches lower in the box, watching Sherlock and biding his time, calculating the next leap. He wants to play, really, and he was going to take a swipe at Sherlock's hand if he tried to reach out.]
[That will be an interesting part of the video as suddenly John is in close up and then it wobbles when Sherlock falls to the floor with a loud oomph.]
John, what are you doing?
[Berit hisses, swiping out with the aim to hit with just the edge of her claws despite the problem it will cause both her and Sherlock to touch him.]
[John hisses right back at Berit, abandoning his efforts to bite Sherlock's shoe laces. His tail fluffs up again, and he dodges back from the other cat.]
He's mine, too, you selfish prat!
[If Berit tries to attack him again, John's not going to be able to hold back the instinct to strike back at her, batting her away or trying to wrestle with her.]
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[This is nonsense, as far as he's concerned. Except when it isn't.
John finds himself tensing, eyes following the laser pointer. It's just a laser pointer. It's nothing a human would bother with, other than to roll their eyes. The tip of John's tail flicks back and forth.
It's perhaps half a minute of fighting with the instincts before the cat wins out. The doctor lunges for the frustratingly enticing dot of light. He'll try to cover it with his hand. If and when Sherlock moves it, John will follow after, chasing the light and making a very solid attempt at catching it. There's a small, human voice in the back of his head yelling that this is ridiculous and he needs to stop. Now. It's drowned out for the time being.]
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He should turn it off now that he has that data, but this is far too amusing and he has time for the other experiments, so he starts to direct the little red dot to on top of furniture or up the curtains to see just how dexterous John can become with these instincts fuelling him.]
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His tail fluffs up, and he darts away from that to hide. It's as he's crouching near a cabinet, panting lightly, that he realizes exactly what he's doing. When he does, there's embarrassment followed by anger. John stands, planting his hands on the counter and glaring at his friend.]
Sherlock...
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Only then does he turn back to John, still grinning widely.]
An excellent first experiment, shall we move on?
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[As galling as that is to admit. His ears are lying flat along his head and the tip of his tail continues to twitch.]
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[Utterly unrepentant.]
I'm surprised that you even believed that at all.
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[John moves to head for the door.]
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[Surely letting Sherlock experiment for an hour or so is a lesser evil than having to distrust everything handed to him for the next few days?]
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John's tail lashes again, a sure sign that he's given in.]
You're cleaning up any of the mess from these experiments.
[Like that curtain. The doctor turns back around and stalks over to the other man, crossing his arms and staring at him silently, waiting.]
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He beams right up until Berit finally manages to get out from under the curtains and leaps at him, digging her claws as deeply as she can into his calf, then the smile becomes a sudden yelp.]
You needn't think I'll be gentle taking blood this time. John, take your blood pressure and pulse again, you know the drill by now.
[He grabs his stupid Heart and goes about extracting blood and monitoring the other two variables.]
Next, we're going to try catnip.
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His blood pressure and pulse are elevated, but that's, perhaps, understandable after he's been running around. He suspects Sherlock being himself is partly responsible for the elevated readings, as well.
The mention of catnip has the doctor frowning.]
That stuff doesn't always work on every cat, you know?
[John's desperately hoping it will have no effect on him, whatsoever.]
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I'm aware of that, but no result will still be a valid one to catalogue. Now, I believe it's your choice if you eat it or simply inhale the scent.
[He hands a bag to John and scatters the other on the ground near Berit.]
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[John takes the bag and holds it at arm's length for a moment, wary of finding himself affected by the damn thing. Sherlock probably won't let it go, though. He'll just take a quick sniff and then Sherlock can count it as an experiment completed.
A quick sniff swiftly becomes something much longer as John's slitted pupils expand. He dips his nose into the bag and then upturns the entire thing on the floor without much thinking about the consequences of that. It's only a moment before he's knelt in the middle of it spreading it out along the ground and putting is nose down to it.]
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Sherlock marks down the approximate amount of catnip needed for the initial reaction, and then immediately gets his phone out to start recording this. Perhaps that isn't the most scientific thing to be doing, but... come on, his flatmate is kneeling down amidst catnip.]
John? John, can you speak to me?
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Yeah.
[He raises a hand and makes a swipe at some dust motes he can see.]
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[He has a rather impish urge to get the laser pointer out again and see what happens, but instead he reaches into one of his cupboards and gets out a cardboard box. It's only about three feet by three feet, big but not huge. He wants to see if this will have any additional fun effects.]
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[No sooner is the box out than John sits up to stare at it, tail flicking. He licks some of the catnip off of his hand and then takes another roll in it before pushing himself up to a crouch. It only takes John a few moments to mentally calculate the distance, and then he's springing toward the box. He lands partway in and sends it skittering as he gets the rest of the way in and settles so that he can stare up at Sherlock and blink slowly.]
Is this what cocaine feels like? S'good. Like... a buzz, but I'm not tired.
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[Perhaps John will remember this and not condemn his habits so much in the future.]
You realise that you're crouching in a box with catnip in your hair?
[He just wants to see if pointing it out will get through the instincts, or if he's too far gone to even care now.]
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As it is, John is a very happy cat, and he doesn't particularly care what he's doing as long as it feels good. That will be ending once the catnip wears off in a few more minutes, but for the time being...
John just hums and runs a hand through his hair, scattering catnip before rubbing his cheek along the edge of the box and biting at it lightly a few times. He looks up at Sherlock after that and shoves at the edge of the box, sitting back in it.]
Pet me.
[It's a demand, not a request.]
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That, however, takes him by surprise.]
No.
[It's a fairly immediate answer. He doesn't want to pet his best friend, and he's relatively sure that John doesn't actually want to be petted.]
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[He crouches lower in the box, watching Sherlock and biding his time, calculating the next leap. He wants to play, really, and he was going to take a swipe at Sherlock's hand if he tried to reach out.]
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Get hold of yourself, John.
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Sherlock will need to be quick to avoid being tackled or toppled as John springs from the box and attacks the laces of his shoes.]
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John, what are you doing?
[Berit hisses, swiping out with the aim to hit with just the edge of her claws despite the problem it will cause both her and Sherlock to touch him.]
Out of my territory!
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He's mine, too, you selfish prat!
[If Berit tries to attack him again, John's not going to be able to hold back the instinct to strike back at her, batting her away or trying to wrestle with her.]
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About an Hour and a Half Later
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we can call this a wrap or keep going if Sherlock and Berit would follow
a wrap is good for me