Just An Ocean Apart

Captive Creatures

    The net dragged along the ocean floor, kicking up rocks and stones and sand, and Sherlock could only imagine he was getting towed by a row boat because he started to rise to about the middle of the sea and continued to be dragged. John was nowhere to be seen, but Sherlock just let his body go limp, letting his head fall back into the painful netting and gave up on his entire life. He might as well just throw the potion into the ocean, John didn't love him, John wouldn't drink it, John was going to go get married and John wasn't John any longer. Sherlock shed some more tears while trapped in the net; being slowly dragged through what was once his own domain in a literal cage. John, why did he do this, how could he do this? Sherlock saved him from the depths of the ocean, Sherlock has been nothing but good to him, and John said he had to capture him. What were they going to do, put him on display, chop him up and eat him, experiment on his fish tail? The possibilities were endless, the horrible possibilities of what these cruel humans might do to an innocent merman like himself. All he had wanted was love. Soon Sherlock felt the water starting to sink below him; he was being lifted out of the ocean by some sort of pulley. When Sherlock was lifted into the air, all the water that had been surrounding him fell and splashed back into the ocean where it belonged, where he belonged, expect he was lifted higher and higher, up the side of the ship. He didn't bother screaming for help, he didn't even want to get away, if this is the torture that John had in store for him he would ever so happily comply. Because he loved John, and whatever John wanted, Sherlock would do. Maybe he might somehow manage to win John's heart after all, even though there was no way of stopping his marriage to Mary. Soon Sherlock was lifted completely in the air, all of his body weight being supported by the thick net fibers as he stopped above the deck, where the whole crew, and John, was waiting to ogle at him. The men all looked rough, tough, and mean. They were sailors, of course, but he could also tell the royal members, the servants and the cooks. They didn't have biceps as big as coral reefs and large anchor tattoos across their chests. John stood out of the crown like a sore thumb, not only because of his ridiculous outfit, but the look of regret on his face, of pain. All of the rest of the men wore a large look of amazement on their faces while John looked upset. Sherlock stared at them for a moment; the sailors were as odd as he was to them.
"It's a mermaid!" one of them exclaimed, breaking the silence. Immediately the entire crew went nuts, cheering and screaming their excitement, shaking the net and trying to get a better look at Sherlock. He squirmed uncomfortably, trying to push their disgusting hands away from his tail, trying to avoid their amazed eyes and drunken breath.
"No, get away from me, get away!" Sherlock exclaimed, smacking one of the men's heavily tattooed hand away from his fin.
"Get back!" John yelled, and immediately the men froze, some with their hands still partially in the net. Sherlock took this moment to push them all away, readjusting himself the best he could and fixing his hair. John stepped forward, pulling the net so that it hung over the dock and standing with his back to Sherlock, addressing the crew.
"No one touches him, no one talks to him. He's a living creature, not an animal, and you'll treat him with the same respect you'd treat me." John growled. The crew muttered their apologies and their agreements, looking rather apologetic yet terribly curious. Sherlock stared at them for a moment, feeling very attacked yet thankful John stepped in. This wasn't animal cruelty, this was abuse, he was half human after all. John turned back to look at him, staring into his eyes and watching as a tear slid down Sherlock's cheek, the first tear anyone saw vividly on his face.
"Why did you do this?" Sherlock whispered, quietly enough so the crew couldn't hear.
"I don't intend to harm you Sherlock; I don't intend to treat you unfairly." John assured, trying to reach into the net to put a calming hand on Sherlock's shoulder.
"Why John?" Sherlock growled, dodging away from John's traitorous touch.
"I'll explain inside, we need to get you somewhere you can survive." John decided. Sherlock twitched in the net, looking down at the ocean below and wondering if the fall would kill him. "Someone, go fill up my bathtub!"
"Your what?" Sherlock snapped. "I am a free ranging creature, I can't be contained in a tiny bathtub!"
"We'll make due for now; I already sent a letter to my kingdom, requesting for them to build you accommodations." John insisted.
"When did you send that letter?" Sherlock wondered. John looked down in shame, as if he didn't want to answer the question.
"Yesterday, after I got on the ship." John muttered.
"You planned this the whole time?" Sherlock growled. Ever since they met, this was John's plan. From the beginning he wanted to capture Sherlock all for himself.
"We were both lonely! I thought we could use the company!" John insisted, looking as if Sherlock's accusations were personally insulting. Sherlock just gasped, feeling like John's sorry excuse was a knife to the heart.
"Oh, you saint. Looking out for my best interests I see." Sherlock snapped, feeling his heart break as he stared at John's defensive expression. How could he do this, how could he act like this was right, like this was fair treatment?
"I'm sorry, I really am." John insisted, starting to turn away.
"Prove it!" Sherlock yelled, but John didn't slow, he went and disappeared underneath a raised platform at the helm of the ship, presumably his bedroom. And so Sherlock was left to gaze at the crew, who were all staring hungrily back, as if they were so fascinated in beating up on a newly discovered creature. Sherlock scowled at them and curled up into a little ball, pulling his tail to his chest and noticing another face in the crowd, looking more surprised than evil. It was Greg, whose mouth was hanging open in an expression of permanent shock. Sherlock had rather forgotten about Greg, who was most certainly remembering prince Sherlock from Coral right about now. This might come as a bit of a shock. Sherlock didn't wave or make any signs that he recognized Greg as well; he just turned to more of the unrecognizable faces in the crowd, the angry looking men with the muscular arms. They disgusted him. Sherlock's heart ached with betrayal, but there was nothing he could do now to stop it. He still had his potion, all was not lost. A moment later John returned, still in his fancy pants but he had shed his red jacket for a plain white button down shirt, looking, if possible, even more attractive.
"We're going to let you down now." He decided, nodding at the men to lower the pulley onto the deck. The rope lowered and Sherlock fell in a heap to the ground, the net opening at the top so that he could flop around on the disturbingly dry deck, wishing very much for a nice pool of cold water. Sherlock lay on the warm deck in a defeated pile, trying to push himself up but being pressed down with a large boot.
"Stay where you are, mermaid." A voice growled from above.
"I'm a merman!" Sherlock protested, and the boot just dug deeper into his spine, pressing Sherlock's face uncomfortably against the wooden dock. John's feet came into his line of vision and he saw them stop, looking down on Sherlock for a moment.
"I can take him from here." John decided.
"Are you sure you don't want us to carry him?" the man with the boot suggested.
"Let him go Anderson, I'll be fine. Besides, I don't think he'll want an old drunk like you carrying him anyway." John snapped. There was a grunt of anger from above, but the man removed his boot, letting Sherlock push himself onto his elbows and look around at the lower legs of all of the men.
"Come on Sherlock; let's make this as easy as possible." John decided, stooping down and trying to heave Sherlock onto his shoulder. Sherlock groaned, but he didn't want to somehow break John's back, so with all the strength he had he crawled onto John's shoulders so that John could carry him in a sort of fireman carry, his tail flopping over one shoulder while his head hung at the other, upside down right against John's very firm chest. Some of the men muttered to each other said rather rude things, but John started walking very awkwardly across the deck, waddling a bit like a duck with the load on his back. Sherlock had to admit, as horrible as his situation was, there were definitely worse ways to be transported. With every struggling step John took, Sherlock's head bounced onto his chest, it very much beat the net he was trapped in moments before. John walked underneath the helm and into a large bedroom, complete with a king sized bed with multiple decorative pillows, a large dresser with a mirror on top and an adjoining bathroom. Sherlock could only guess where he was going. Just as he predicted, John hobbled into the bathroom, and dropped Sherlock heavily into the bathtub before he had any say about it. Sherlock groaned, hitting his back painfully off of the ceramic frame and splashing in the warm, shallow water. John groaned, stretching his back and sitting down on the toilet lid, messaging his neck.
"You weigh more than you look." John decided.
"As does your betrayal." Sherlock agreed. John just groaned, shaking his head and looking very apologetically at Sherlock.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, you said you were the last of your kind, you said that you were lonely and now you don't have to be. You'll be a huge attraction, we can charge people to see the only known merman, bring money into the kingdom and support Mary and I." John insisted.
"You're going to put me on show to fund your wife?" Sherlock snapped, feeling the whole in his heart widen ever more. John nodded guiltily, sliding off of his makeshift chair and crawling over to where Sherlock lay squished in the bathtub on his knees, as if begging for forgiveness.
"Please Sherlock, I'm sorry, I really am, but this way we can both get what we want." John insisted.
"Oh, you're right John; I really want to be in your bloody bathtub for the rest of my life, how very generous." Sherlock snapped. John groaned, shaking his head and gently taking one of Sherlock's hands. As much as Sherlock hated him right now, his touch was magical, and it sent sparks down Sherlock's arm and into his heart.
"I really need you to forgive me, you won't be lonely anymore." John insisted. With his other hand he stroked Sherlock's tail, a touch so beautiful Sherlock had to let his head fall back on the bathtub rim, to look like he wasn't enjoying it as much as he was. But this was not the John Watson who had held his hand before; this was a traitor, an imposter. John's hand traveled up Sherlock's tail until it started to run along his side, his human chest. Sherlock grabbed his hand as it started up his torso, pulling John's soft skin over his heart, his beating heart.
"John feel that, I am a living, breathing creature. I have a heart, I have feelings, I can feel every ounce of this betrayal, I can feel every ounce of this pain." Sherlock whispered, pressing John's hand to his chest with both of his own hands.
"I know Sherlock, and I'm sorry, I just...I see you and I see opportunity." John insisted. Sherlock's hands shook in anger, letting John's hand fall back into the bathwater and pressing himself as far away from the boy as he could. Suddenly he saw a stranger.
"I used to look at you and see love." Sherlock hissed. "But I don't even know who the boy was I saw in the first place, and I most certainly don't know who you are now." Of course John didn't understand what he was saying, of course he couldn't know the extent of his pain, but then again, Sherlock really didn't expect him to care. This boy, this horrible creature and his lack of empathy, how dare he lock Sherlock up for money, how dare he display him like a creature at the zoo?
"I'm so sorry Sherlock; I don't know what to say." John muttered. "I know you saved my life, and I know I owe you the world, and I'm going to try to make it up to you in whatever way, I would never hurt you."
"Get out John, just get out." Sherlock whispered. John looked pained to see Sherlock so angry, but he got to his feet, standing over Sherlock, trapped in the bathtub.
"I SAID GET OUT!" Sherlock exclaimed, taking what must be a bar of soap and throwing it as hard as he could at John, who scrambled for the door and closed it quickly, leaving Sherlock alone in the bathroom to think about what had just happened, and what was going to come next. Sherlock groaned loudly, pushing the tears to the back of his eyes and flopping his tail over the edge of the bathtub to stretch it out. John was supposed to go meet Mary today, he was supposed to leave Sherlock except it turns out that Sherlock was going with him. This hurt more than Sherlock could even imagine, John didn't care about him, he didn't have his best interests in mind, he was trying to use Sherlock to make money, to support his growing family, to trap Sherlock in a cage and charge people to ogle at him through the glass. Mycroft was right. But Mycroft could never know, no one could know that Sherlock's love had turned against him so ruthlessly, he would be the laughing stock of the entire merperson population. The idiot who fell in love with a human, who thought that humans could somehow be kind and caring and love something that wasn't exactly like they were. Mycroft could never know about what John had done, because if he found out he would owe Sherlock the biggest I told you so, and Sherlock never wanted to see that happen. Someone, someone must notice he was missing though; someone might save him, or better yet bring him a potion to turn him into a human. If he was human, John would talk to him as an equal, if he was human than John might love him once more. But for now he had a fish tail, so he was trapped in John's bathtub, as if this thin layer of water was enough to keep him alive and occupied. Sherlock winced as he repositioned his back more comfortably against the ceramic, staring at the tiles on the walls and wondering if it would even be worth it to escape. John wanted him where he was, and Sherlock was a good merman, he would stay here because John wished it. Even if he did escape, he had nowhere to go but back home in shame. At least while trapped in a glass cage he could talk to John, maybe start the convincing process. If he told him flat out, John would never believe him. He'd think Sherlock was just making up stories to try to save his own neck, to try to make John pity him and let him go free. No, it would never work, Sherlock would need to be more convincing, he'd need proof, somehow John had to fall in love with him. It was the only way.