Just An Ocean Apart

The Beauty Under the Waves

As the sun went down the colors on the sky reflected over the ocean waves, and as the water turned calm and glassy Sherlock almost felt like he was surrounded in reds and golds, like he was in a fire without the heat. It was gorgeous, and for a moment Sherlock nearly forgot why he was here. He nearly forgot the pain in his heart, the dull aching in his empty stomach, the soreness of his muscles and the crick in his neck. For a moment it was just the colors, the beauty of the world above the water, and he felt like he could just melt into it. Movement on the top deck brought him to his senses, however, when he heard someone's footsteps approaching the railing, obviously trying to admire the sunset just as Sherlock was. It was probably just a crew member, some insignificant human with a taste for natural beauty, and Sherlock told himself he didn't have to look. He insisted that there was no possible way John would ever be hanging over the deck, unknowingly watching the same sunset as Sherlock. But of course, Sherlock's idiotic curiosity got the best of him, and before he knew it he was swimming slowly along the side of the ship, trying to get a good angle to see the person above him. He wandered farther out onto the water, sinking below the waves so that he wouldn't be spotted, craning his neck in order to see who was on deck. And as he started to swim farther and turn around, he saw that the figure on the deck had golden hair, the same golden hair as John, the fiery sunlight reflecting off of his head and making him seem to glow, making him even more beautiful than ever. Sherlock's heart ached even more, like someone was scraping through it with a large spoon, like it was being removed from his chest without anesthesia. The thought that John was so close, that he could literally jump off the boat and land in Sherlock's arms, it was almost too much to bear. Because Sherlock knew full well that John would never jump off of that boat, it would only be too easy. Sherlock had to get on the boat and find him, and talk to him, and love him. He carelessly floated to the surface, his head coming out of the water and looking up at John for the first time in the same realm. This was the first time he laid eyes on John without a watery filter, and he was every bit as beautiful as Sherlock remembered. He was leaning over the railing, staring at the sun and seemingly getting lost in his thoughts, probably about Mary. He looked at peace, if not a little bit nervous, but he didn't look to be in any pain, as Sherlock was. He seemed as if there was nothing bothering him except the anticipation of meeting his new bride, and that his heart wasn't yearning for someone else, someone so obtainable at the moment. Suddenly John stared down at the water, and for a moment Sherlock didn't want to move. Maybe he could reveal himself like this, but no, this wasn't right. John would sound an alarm; they would get the harpoons, Sherlock swam as fast as he could to the ship, away from John's line of vision, hoping that all he had seen was a shape in the water, something unrecognizable and unimportant.
"Hello?" John called down, and Sherlock just held his breath, holding himself flat against the hull of the ship and once more digging his fingernails into the wood. There was silence, and obviously John was looking for whoever he might have seen in the water, but there was no way Sherlock could reveal himself, something told him that this wasn't the right time.
"Talking to yourself again John?" asked another voice, a voice Sherlock recognized but couldn't quite place.
"Shut up, I thought I saw someone, in the water." John pointed out.
"Where could someone possibly come from? We're in the middle of the ocean." The other person insisted. Sherlock thought for a moment, running that voice over and over in his head until he placed it. Of course, it was Greg, John's servant and best friend. Greg had watched over Sherlock while he had been on land, he became a friend as well. But Greg never got his memory wiped, Mycroft never knew of Sherlock's connection with Greg, and he remembered everything. If Greg saw Sherlock then the whole game would be over, or maybe he would be a good little helper. If Sherlock couldn't convince John that they had a past, surely Greg could.
"I don't know, I guess...I guess I'm just seeing things." John decided above him. Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to always remember the sound of John's voice, just in case he never heard it again. That beautiful voice, so peaceful and so calm. Whenever John spoke, Sherlock was almost certain that everything was going to be alright, even though he knew that it might never be again.
"You're always seeing things John, you're going crazy, remember?" Greg joked.
"Shut up Greg, I'm not going crazy. You're just bitter because I'm getting married and you don't even have a girlfriend." John pointed out. Sherlock let his head fall back onto the ship in agony, John was getting married; the horror of it all was almost unbearable.
"I'm in the market, but I don't really have time to go girl searching, since you're so dependent on me to tie your shoes." Greg pointed out. John just laughed, a beautiful sound that knocked the breath right out of Sherlock's lungs. He was so perfect it was almost impossible to bear.
"Oh yes, sorry I forgot I was incapable of lacing up my own boots." John snapped.
"Not without me telling you how. I mean, you are improving, but..." Greg's words were cut off and Sherlock heard a sort of slapping. Obviously John didn't want to hear about how unintelligent he was.
"What are you doing out here anyway?" Greg asked, sounding a little bit more serious.
"I'm just kind of staring I guess. Thinking." John shrugged.
"Thinking about Mary?" Greg guessed.
"Thinking about Mary." John agreed.
"Hey, don't worry about it, she sounded very sweet in the letters, and her father seemed very anxious to hook her up with a nice boy like you, I'm sure the two of you will be happy." Greg assured.
"But we don't even know each other; we never had time to connect." John pointed out.
"Well, you still have a week or so to get to know each other, and then the wedding bells will start ringing." Greg insisted with a smile. John sighed, and there was a moment of silence, obviously the two of them were lost in their own thoughts, or simply thinking of what to say next.
"I feel like I can't properly love someone unless I choose them for myself." John decided. Sherlock felt the need to hold his breath, worried that Greg might bring up something about his existence.
"Well, then maybe you just have to choose her." Greg suggested.
"That does sound like the easy way out doesn't it?" John sighed.
"Sometimes you've got to take the easy way; sometimes the road just gets too rough." Greg insisted.
"What if my real true love is waiting at the end of it though?" John pointed out.
"Then maybe they'll be willing to start their way to you instead, while you try to decide which turn to make. Maybe they'll get to you right in time." Greg decided. Sherlock sighed, but knew Greg was referring to him. Greg was wondering whether the shipwrecked prince from Coral would ever come back to reclaim his love before John wandered in the direction of Mary. Little did he know that prince was clinging to their boat and listening to their conversation with his heart throbbing in pain. Little did he know that Sherlock had already taken that road, and as he arrived John had already wandered down the other one.