Just An Ocean Apart

Even Mermen Make Mistakes

"You're um...do you have family?" John muttered. "Other merpeople?" Sherlock hesitated once more, but decided this was a question best answered with a lie.
"If there are others I haven't met them. I'm all alone in my world, John, and I rather hoped I could change that." Sherlock decided. John looked up at him, still with a smile, but it was starting to fade.
"Change your loneliness?" John wondered. Sherlock nodded, feeling John's fingers slide off of his tail and back into the water.
"I feel like I have been alone for so long, no one has ever loved me, no one has ever...looked at me, noticed me. I feel like, I feel like I need someone to love me back." Sherlock whispered, quivering slightly in the water and squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling once more. John was staring at him quizzically, as if he wasn't quite sure why Sherlock was telling him all of this.
"Well, I'm going to this land, kingdom, you might be able to find another merperson around there, a nice mermaid." John suggested. Sherlock kept his eyes closed, shaking his head and trying to fight the urge to just get out with it already, to tell John everything and just force the potion down his throat.
"I don't want..." Sherlock cut off his own sentence, clenching his fists and twitching his tail through the water, John was so close, so obtainable; after all of these months wasted away, he was so accessible... Sherlock felt something inside himself snap, self-control most likely, or maybe what little sense of decency he had. Nevertheless, it didn't matter, because he didn't really process what he was doing until he had done it. Sherlock flung himself at John, pulling the boy onto the gravel shore and pressing their bodies together, his tail flopping in the water with satisfaction.
"I only want you." Sherlock whispered, letting his breath trace John's jaw line and finally landing right above his lips. For a moment Sherlock was ready to kiss him, whether or not John was ready to or not, he had waited so long for one single kiss and it was here, ready, John wasn't fighting back, he seemed too stunned. But even as Sherlock's fingers clutched into John's forearms, as their chests pressed together and their hearts beat as one, Sherlock couldn't bring himself to do it. John looked terrified, he looked like he wanted to cry, his savior merman was no more than a creepy merman that trapped sailors in caves and pretended that he was in love with them. John had no previous recollection of their love, he saw Sherlock not as a suffering man finally reunited, he saw someone that only wanted love for their own selfish reasons, there were no emotions there were just rough, forceful kisses in captivity. This wasn't love, this was fear. Sherlock suddenly felt like a horrible person, he quickly retreated into the water once more and swam under the surface, watching as John scrambled desperately to his feet and wiped himself off. Obviously he had no idea what to say, which wasn't really surprising, he just stared at the water as if wondering where Sherlock had disappeared to. Meanwhile Sherlock sunk to the bottom of the cave and started slapping himself in the face, yelling in anger and watching as bubbles erupted from his mouth. How stupid, how pathetically ignorant, of course that couldn't have gone well, of course he just messed everything up. How would John ever believe Sherlock's stories now, how would he even bare to see Sherlock's face? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Sherlock looked up to see John standing over the water, scanning it and saying something unheard. He didn't look scared, in fact, he looked regretful, as if he was sad his new merman friend had left. Sherlock poked his head out of the water and John looked down in relief.
"I thought you left." John muttered. Sherlock just let his head dip back under water, trying to think of what to say. I'm sorry? No, that was too cheesy, too stereotypical. I'm sorry didn't cut it; this was something more extreme than apologies. He rose back to the surface once more, only his head, looking down at the water in shame.
"That was a horrible thing to do, you didn't deserve that. I apologize." Sherlock muttered. John just laughed nervously, taking a cautious step forward.
"It's alright. If I was alone for that long, I'd snap as well. It's fine, I understand." John assured. Sherlock stared up at him in confusion, wondering just how John could be such a wonderful, such a beautiful human being.
"How can you forgive me, I'm disgusting, I'm...I'm..." Sherlock started, trying to pick out the right word.
"My savior? My selfless rescuer that saved me from the bottom of the ocean? A merman that brought me for miles through the sea to bring me to shore and revive me? I could keep going Sherlock, I really could. If it weren't for you, I would be dead." John pointed out. "I owe you everything I have and more." Sherlock stared up at him once more and felt a single tear roll down his cheek. John wouldn't be able to tell the tear from the numerous drops of sea water dripping down his face from his sopping hair.
"How can you be so kind?" Sherlock wondered. John just laughed, shaking his head doubtfully.
"I have my faults." He assured.
"Name one." Sherlock dared. John looked at him in confusion, but obviously started to think.
"I'm very naive." John decided. Sherlock just smiled a little bit, hoping that his smile was enough to make John smile back.
"That's not a fault, that's a characteristic. That's not bad. You're pure, you're perfect, you're flawless and you're understanding. I could never be anything that you are." Sherlock insisted.
"How do you know so much about me Sherlock, it's like you've met me before." John pointed out. Sherlock tried not to look too guilty or afraid as he answered that question.
"I just make a lot of assumptions, and usually they end up true. Are they true?" Sherlock asked. John shrugged, as if he couldn't tell. Ever the humble. "They're true." Sherlock answered for him. John didn't protest. He lingered on the shore, walking among the rocks and the pebbles around the cave, maybe he was looking for something to eat or drink, maybe he was just walking to walk. Either way Sherlock envied him, he watched as his legs moved quickly, his muscles pushing him off of the ground with every step he took and his feet balancing him perfectly. Sherlock missed the days when he could walk like that, when he could take a step and go where ever he wanted.
"What do we do now?" John asked, crawling onto a large rock close to the water and staring into the open sea, calm once more.
"I don't know." Sherlock admitted.
"My crew will come, they'll find me." John decided.
"They most likely think you're dead." Sherlock pointed out. John shook his head very determinedly, as if he couldn't stand the thought of his friends thinking he was dead. Then they wouldn't come looking and they most certainly wouldn't be here to rescue them.
"I kind of feel like I am. My muscles are sore, my skin hurts every time I move, my stomach feels like an empty chasm." John insisted, messaging his stomach as if that might help. Sherlock dove underneath the water, staring through the murkiness and trying to spot a fish swimming around. Finally after only about a minute of waiting Sherlock lunged at a catfish and caught it between both of his hands, the slimy fish trying to wriggle and escape from between his fingers. Sherlock resurfaced and cautiously swam towards John, where he lounged on the rock and let the ocean light beam on him like an angelic glow.
"Here, food." Sherlock muttered, holding the writhing catfish up for John to take. John looked over at him and recoiled slightly, a look of disgust on his face.
"It's still moving." He pointed out, leaning in for a closer look.
"I could stop it moving if...if that's what you want." Sherlock suggested, moving his hands in position to snap the fish's head off.
"No, no, it's alright!" John assured quickly, waving his hands desperately. Sherlock paused, looking up at him in confusion.
"Do you want to eat it?" he wondered, tilting his head slightly. John just laughed, shaking his head.
"It's alright, thanks Sherlock. We don't have a fire to cook it on anyway." He pointed out. Sherlock nodded, staring down at the water and trying to remember what a fire was. This human world was just so difficult, but he released the fish and let it swim to the ocean floor with all of its little catfish friends. Sherlock rather regretted letting it go, because as soon as he washed his hands off in the muddy water his own stomach started to growl, and that catfish would've tasted good if it was moving or not. John continued to sit on the rock, staring into the ocean as if expecting a large ship to come out of the horizon and rescue him.
"We could go back to them." Sherlock suggested.
"What do you mean?" John wondered. Sherlock sighed, knowing that by delivering John back to his crew he would commit relationship suicide, but for John's happiness he would be willing to give up his heart once more.
"I could take you back on the raft, to your ship, wherever it might be." Sherlock pointed out. John sighed, staring at the water and thinking. He thought for a moment and Sherlock watched as his brain turned, trying to think of any possible solutions.
"No, that's alright. We'll most certainly die out there, and my crew will come find me. Meanwhile we can just stay here, eat catfish and drink the condensation dripping off the walls." John suggested, laughing as if that were a funny idea. But he didn't move, so Sherlock assumed he was serious about staying. Sherlock didn't know if he should be relived or upset that John had chosen to stay, but it meant John preferred hanging out with him over death, which was probably a good sign.
"What is that, around your neck?" John wondered. Sherlock picked up the potion on the kelp necklace, the heat warming his fingers and debating whether or not to tell John or not. Even though he had been waiting for this moment since he left John on that dock all of those days ago, he felt like there would be a better time, a better opportunity.
"It's nothing, a potion." Sherlock muttered. John looked disappointed but nodded, pulling his knees to his chest and sighing deeply.
"I've never been on a long journey before, in the ocean. So far it's not been going too well." John decided. Sherlock nodded, flopping his tail slightly in the water.
"It could've gone much worse." He pointed out. John could only laugh a little bit, shrugging in agreement.
"Yes I suppose it could've." He muttered. "I probably shouldn't even be on these waters, I only agreed to come. They're to get my new wife, from a faraway kingdom across the sea."
"A...wife? Interesting." Sherlock agreed.
"I'm sorry if that's kind of, you know, disappointing, but it could've never really worked out between us anyway." John pointed out. Sherlock stared at the water in shame, trying to pretend that lurking under the water were two legs, and not a fish tail. If he had legs, this would've gone much differently.
"I know, it was a horrible thing to do, I've never really talked to anyone though, I've never held anyone." Sherlock admitted.
"Neither have I." John agreed. "Well, I mean, I talk to plenty of people, but she'll be my first wife, my first girlfriend at all. I'm just, nervous, you know? What if she's a terrible person? What if I hate her? Even worse, what if she hates me?"
"If she hates you John, then she's more messed up than you could possibly imagine." Sherlock decided. John laughed again and nodded, letting his feet splash in the water.
"You call her crazy, but here I am talking about my love life with a merman." John pointed out. Sherlock knows more about you love life than you do, shut up John.
"Judgement free zone, because I know no more about love than these catfish." Sherlock agreed.
"There must be other merpeople out there, I mean, where did you come from?" John asked. Sherlock frowned, trying his best to construct a story in his brain.
"I um, I just kind of...I don't know. I've never met another creature like myself, I can only assume I just appeared." Sherlock decided.
"That's rubbish; you had to have parents, relatives, siblings." John insisted.
"Where did the first human come from then?" Sherlock wondered. John shrugged, laughing as if he were impressed with Sherlock's logic.
"Well, you got me there." He decided. "But there were two humans made so that the species could grow and travel the earth."
"Are you saying there is someone else like me out there? Or are you saying God created only me as an experiment and intended for the merperson species to die off right after it started?" Sherlock wondered.
"I suppose it depends on how you're living out your life. But I assume there are more like you out there." John decided.
"Well if there are, I'd like to find them. I've been so alone, I always assumed humans would kill me or capture me, I've never approached one before." Sherlock admitted.
"Why me?" John wondered.
"There is something about you John, something that makes you different from the rest of your species. Something that makes you very special." Sherlock decided.
"Do you have any idea what that might be?" John wondered.
"No, but I hope I will someday find out." Sherlock decided, and John just looked at him quizzically, as if he couldn't figure out what Sherlock meant by that. They stayed in silence for a while; John eventually fell asleep, sprawled out on the rock as if all of that sleeping he had done hadn't been enough. Sherlock stayed awake, watching as the tide rose and starting to splash along John's feet. By some miracle he didn't wake, but Sherlock was determined to keep his dropping eye lids open, for John's sake, so he wasn't in any danger that Sherlock could possibly prevent. So he slid up onto the shore, leaving his tail in the water so it didn't get too dried out, and watched John sleep, curled into a little ball with sea spray and rouge waves hitting him. He didn't seem to mind though; maybe he was just that tired, which would be rather pathetic. Maybe humans slept when they were avoiding their situations, maybe their bodies shut down when they were so terribly hungry, so that they could conserve what little energy they had. Sherlock felt a bit bad for not being able to provide John with food he was able to eat, but he assumed if John got hungry enough he could settle for a good fish, no matter how much it squirmed in his fingers. No matter how hard Sherlock was trying to keep his eyes open, eventually they drooped shut and exhaustion overtook him, and the lolling of the ocean over his tail rocked him to sleep.