Just An Ocean Apart

Bedhead and Betrayal

Sherlock was awoken with loud yelling, human yelling. He opened his eyes a little bit to see what looked like a small boat docked in their cave, a row boat of some sorts, pulled up onto the rocky shore. Man after man were unloading, clambering out and rushing around the cave to where John lay. Maybe they hadn't noticed Sherlock, and since his tail was in the water they had no way of know what he was either. So he stayed still, still too tired to process what was going on.
"John, John, oh thank god, he's alive!" called a voice that sounded very much like Greg's. There were cheers from the men, and Sherlock could only wince at their obnoxious loud voices, not nearly as graceful and elegant as John's.
"Greg, what..." John's voice joined the mix, and Sherlock could only assume he had woken up as well. Silently Sherlock slipped into the water, unnoticed by the excited crew buzzing around the cave and trying to force feed John what looked like oatmeal. Sherlock couldn't hear the conversation, but he knew they were talking back and forth because he saw their lips moving, forming words and communicating. Sherlock hoped John didn't mention anything about his savior; maybe he was under the impression that it had all been a dream. Nevertheless Sherlock didn't want his entire crew to know of his existence, especially since some of them might recognize him from his last trip on earth. He let his head resurface close to John's rock, where he was getting shakily to his feet and starting to walk weakly over to the rowboat, which was parked right over top of the wooden raft Sherlock had used to pull him to shore.
"Wait!" John exclaimed, pushing his friends away and rushing back to his rock, kneeling down and scanning the water for Sherlock's floating head. Sherlock stared back at him, their eyes meeting for one last time, John's beautiful brown eyes staring up at him in wonder.
"Will I ever see you again?" he wondered. Sherlock nodded, staring at the men now loading back into the rowboat.
"I will follow your ship, see you safely to shore." Sherlock insisted. John smiled thankfully, holding out a hand for Sherlock to shake.
"I'll meet you at the docks when I arrive, surely you'll be able to find me and meet up." John muttered. Sherlock nodded, taking John's hand and feeling his smooth skin under his own fingers, shaking it slightly.
"Don't tell them of my existence." Sherlock insisted.
"Never." John agreed with a smile, pulling his hand away and letting Sherlock's finger fall back into the water.
"I'll follow you." Sherlock promised.
"I'll look forward to our next visit." John agreed, and with that he got to his feet and walked back over to his crew. Sherlock was left feeling lonelier than ever before, watching his retreating feet walking back to the rowboat.
"Who were you talking to?" Greg wondered.
"My reflection, now can we go?" John snapped. Sherlock heard Greg laugh, but that was the last of the humans he heard before he sunk back underneath the water, watching from the side as the men rowed the boat back into the open sea. Sherlock could see John hanging out of the side, scanning the water as expecting to see Sherlock and his bruise tail following along underneath.

Sherlock followed the ship for the next day and a half before finally he was able to see land. It stretched out along the horizon like a beacon of light, of safety. The crew members celebrated on deck, he heard them playing music, singing, drinking and dancing, celebrating the way only sailors could. Sherlock sat on his little seat on the ship and craned his neck to see John, but only occasionally did the prince look over the deck to see if Sherlock was following along. But Sherlock was always there, so relieved that he didn't have to hide his face from John Watson any longer. John would smile and wave, and Sherlock would wave back, his own face lit up like the sun, but they wouldn't talk, they wouldn't say anything since they would have to scream from the distance. As the men celebrated though, John didn't make an appearance, maybe he was too worried about Mary, maybe he had for some reason forgotten about their deal to meet on the docks, maybe he didn't quite feel like celebrating. Sherlock hoped that John was beginning to feel doubt, starting to bury its way into his brain and multiply. Maybe his heart was already starting to yearn for the merman in the water, maybe he didn't even want to get off the boat at all. Maybe he wanted to turn back and leave Mary and elope with Sherlock somewhere where they could be safe together. Because Sherlock was definitely feeling those feelings. After being so close, after touching John's hands and seeing his smile and hearing his laugh, it felt like things would be so much more complicated now that they had met again. The idea of john walking off to Mary Morstan was hard enough, but now that Sherlock knew he would voluntarily leave even when he knew of Sherlock's existence was torturous enough. Why didn't Sherlock just tell him, why didn't he just feed him the potion and be done with it? There was something holding him back however, something that made him a bit apprehensive to tell John the truth. What might happen if John drank the potion and walked away anyway? What if he blamed Sherlock for what had happened to him and decided the merman was a waste of his time? Maybe Sherlock didn't want to tell John the truth until he knew he was ready to accept it, to live up to his expectations and not run to Mary Morstan anyway. So Sherlock waited on the ship, his heart aching for someone on deck, and watched as land became more and more visible. In a couple of hours he could make out every steeple, roof, and tree lining the shore, he could hear church bells ringing, people talking, livestock crowing and mooing, the sound of life, the sound of human life that was so unknown to him. And soon the ship pulled up to the dock and Sherlock had to scurry underneath it, just in time to avoid the walkway being thrown down and men starting to unload. Sherlock waited underneath the wooden dock, not nearly as glamourous as the one above his home, peeking through the gaps in the floorboards while boots walked overhead, shaking down dirt and debris from above. Sherlock didn't know what type of shoe John had on, but as he watched the men march above, none of them stopped to look around. None of them paused to scan the water for a possible merman, none of the feet even hesitated once they met the dock, they just started to shore, singing and celebrating and slopping whiskey down their front. Disgusting humans. Sherlock waited for what felt like hours, long after the humans have stopped going over their walkway and onto the shore, watching the sunlight and the blue sky from the cracks below the docks and hoping that John would return for him. But the docks were empty, nightfall was approaching and it seemed like all of the townspeople were at their homes, eating dinner or sleeping or doing whatever humans do when night comes. Sherlock was about to give up home, to sink to the bottom of the ocean and wait for any possible sign of John's return when he heard footsteps coming down the ramp, slow, steady ones, as if someone was trying to sneak around as much as possible. Sherlock knew this must be John, because his small feet walked over the dock and paused.
"Sherlock?" hissed a voice from above, his voice, the sound of angels singing. Sherlock swam up from underneath the dock and pulled himself up, so that his chin was resting sort of uncomfortably on the dock. John was standing above him, looking showered, fed, and well dressed, his hair combed back and a nice outfit on. Obviously he was planning on going to meet Mary in style.
"John." Sherlock muttered, lifting his head so that he could try to look into his eyes. John smiled, looking around and dropping to his knees to talk easier.
"It sure is good to see you. Are you alright? Tired? We have some food if you need some." John offered.
"I'm fine, I can live off fish. How are you? You look better." Sherlock observed. John just laughed, shrugging in agreement.
"Have to look good for the lady." He shrugged. Sherlock sighed heavily, looking down at the dock in shame. "You look pained, are you alright?" John asked, picking Sherlock's head up gently so that they could look each other in the eyes again. Sherlock leaned into John's soft touch, his smooth, strong fingers.
"John I don't want you to meet her. I don't want you to fall in love with her." Sherlock muttered.
"And why would that be?" John asked, sounding rather amused.
"I don't know, I just...feel like you were made to fall in love yourself, rather than by default." Sherlock insisted, feeling like that was a good way to put it. John just sighed, nodding in agreement but not looking very convinced.
"I know Sherlock, but this is what I'm supposed to do, unite the kingdoms, it's good for everyone, and even if we're not true soulmates then that's alright. A sacrifice I'm willing to make." John decided.
"You'll give up your happiness for your kingdom?" Sherlock whispered, knowing full well he would never do anything of the sort for his own kingdom of coral.
"Of course I would Sherlock, I am the prince." John agreed. Sherlock nodded, staring at the dock where John's feet lay.
"Can we meet later, maybe, in a cave somewhere? Where we can talk freely?" Sherlock wondered.
"What's wrong with right here?" John asked. Sherlock looked around, noticing a couple of people walking across a dock behind John and sinking father into the water so they couldn't see his tail.
"There are people, and I don't really want to reveal myself to the world just yet." Sherlock decided. John sighed deeply, but nodded.
"Alright then. There's bound to be a cave around here somewhere." He agreed. Sherlock looked around scanning the horizon and noticing a patch of rocks a little bit farther off, past the docks and the population.
"Go to the closest one to the docks, in that patch of rocks, tomorrow morning, before you meet Mary." Sherlock decided.
"Why before?" John wondered. Sherlock took a deep breath, but looked away from John's angelic face. Not now.
"Just, promise me?" Sherlock whispered. John looked at him in wonder, his lips cracked in the smallest most beautiful smiles known to man.
"Ya, alright, you have my word." He agreed.
"Good. Enjoy your night John, I'll see you tomorrow." Sherlock muttered, sinking back into the waves before John could say a goodbye himself. Sherlock spent the rest of the night trying to find the best place for him to curl up and sleep. He had tried to nestle in the nearest patch of coral he could find, but there were a bunch of hermit crabs crawling along it and they didn't seem too happy to share their coral with an unknown merman. So he went over to a patch of kelp, rustling his hands through it to make sure he wasn't going to lay down on an octopus or whatever the sea had to offer him. When nothing crawled out but a couple of horrified fish, Sherlock lay down in the kelp, making a crude pillow out of a sea cucumber and settled back, staring up at the waves and knowing they didn't confine him anymore. He could go to the surface whenever he wanted, and Mycroft was miles and miles away. Even though he knew his escape would be a bit traumatizing for his brother Sherlock had no care in the world for his wellbeing. He couldn't care less about Mycroft's problems, he didn't care that his tyrannical brother was suffering after locking Sherlock in his room for a week. This was his escape from Mycroft's jaws; this was the moment he had been looking forward to for so long. The problem was how he was going to get John to drink the potion. Obviously it had to be done tomorrow morning, when they would see each other and John and Mary still hadn't officially met. Sherlock sighed, trying to nestle back in this kelp and imagine what life with John would be like once more. What those eyes would look like when they realized what he had been missing, what his lips would taste like after so long apart. Sherlock just couldn't wait to have his John back in his arms once more.