The Lovers Move to Land

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    "What did you tell him?" Greg wondered. Sherlock sighed heavily, taking a sip of the human alcohol and nearly choking it down, it tasted strongly of, well, he had no idea what it tasted like. It tasted bad, but felt good. He took another sip.
"I nearly told him I loved him." Sherlock muttered. Greg started to take a deep breath of surprise. "Nearly! I didn't actually say it!" Sherlock defended.
"What did you say?" Greg asked, his mouth open wide in shock.
"I said that I thought he deserved someone who had loved him longer than Mary had, and he asked me why it bothered me so much, and, you know this was a very low point in my life, and I just said that I lo...and then I rolled over in the bath and made him go away." Sherlock admitted. Greg finished his dep breath, looking both excited and terrified.
"You should've just told him mate, I'm sure he'd be thrilled." Greg insisted.
"He doesn't look thrilled, does he? He was in tears all last night, as was I, we just...it wasn't a very good night for either of us." Sherlock admitted.
"Well ya, I found you wiggling on the floor, holding that washcloth to your face, if I had waited a minute more you would've been dead!" Greg exclaimed.
"You should've stopped to tie your shoe then." Sherlock sighed.
"You want to die?" Greg asked, his mouth agape in shock.
"No Greg, I was just trying to asphyxiate myself for an experiment." Sherlock snapped. Greg's smile faded, and he took another sip out of his mug. Sherlock mimicked him.
"Why would you want to die Sherlock? You have so much to live for; you're so close to getting John back, closer than ever!" Greg insisted.
"Just because I'm in his presence doesn't mean I'm close. His heart belongs to Mary Morstan, there's no question in that." Sherlock groaned. Greg shrugged, not looking too convinced.
"I don't know mate, he seems pretty wired, maybe you should just kiss him and see what happens." Greg suggested.
"I already know what will happen Greg, I'll become a chef's special." Sherlock snapped.
"He's not going to cook you, he loves you!" Greg insisted.
"Where's your proof in that? Of course he doesn't love me, why would anyone in their right mind love me?" Sherlock snapped.
"Well then, maybe John's just crazy. Maybe you're both crazy. Either way, you're meant to be, I know that not only from now, but from the last time, I saw you two fall in love and I hope I get to see it again." Greg decided.
"Show's over Greg, Mary's got a ring on her finger." Sherlock sighed.
"They're not married yet, they still have the wedding in a week, you've got a week to feed him that potion and get yourself some John loving." Greg said with a smile, draining his cup in a large gulp and smiling goofily. Sherlock just cringed; the idea of John falling in love with him was almost too ridiculous to bear.
"Well then, you should probably get on with your...responsibilities." Sherlock decided. Greg nodded, not looking too pleased about that but getting to his feet.
"You want your beer?" he wondered. Sherlock waved his hand with boredom, and Greg grabbed the mug away, pouring the 'beer' into his own mug and walking crookedly away.
"It's going to be an interesting week Sherlock, mark my words." He decided, and with that he closed the door and was gone. Sherlock sighed deeply, splashing around in his bathtub and wondering just how much longer he was going to have the pleasure of sitting in his highness's bathtub. When the boat stopped moving, Sherlock felt it. There had always been that little tugging sensation in his stomach, no matter how stationary the boat felt, deep down he always knew they were moving. Not anymore, everything was still accept the dull lolling of the waves against the hull, and Sherlock knew that they were right over top of his home. This was going to be the defining moment of whether or not Mycroft found out about his capture or not. Obviously his brother had noticed his disappearance, that or Moran, either way they needed to have some sort of suspicion that Sherlock had followed the boat, and now that they were back he'd have spies, laying in the rock faces or just under the dock, waiting and watching for any sign that they had captured him. obviously Sherlock couldn't have that, he should either be brought to shore in a bag so as to not humiliate himself, or he should be brought in a throne, held up over the rest of the people as if they suddenly worshiped him, as if he had come on his own free will. The idea that Mycroft might think he got kidnapped was almost too humiliating to bear, the look on his brother's face when he found out he was right all along, that Sherlock's insane love was merely a mirage, that John could only love him if he had legs. Well, it was a work in progress. The door opened not long after that, and John stepped in, looking very snazzy in the same red suit with frilly collar combo the day he had kidnapped Sherlock. Maybe it was the only formal outfit he owned, but it didn't matter, either way he looked dashing.
"I assume we've docked?" Sherlock muttered, not really wanting to look John in the eyes but casting his eyes daringly over him instead, as if he was doing no more than looking to the other side of the room.
"Yes, we have." John agreed.
"How am I to get to shore? In a suitcase, on a trolley?" Sherlock wondered.
"We're going to carry you, our own little advertisement." John decided. Sherlock nodded, splashing his tail slightly through the water.
"Advertisement, that's nice." Sherlock sighed.
"Oh, you know what I mean." John said in a defeated voice.
"Do I?" Sherlock wondered, finally making eye contact with John and immediately wishing he didn't. John's face turned to sadness, and Sherlock could only imagine he was reading the emotions through Sherlock's multicolored corneas, seeing the pain that lay behind the fake smile...Sherlock looked away.
"Who's going to carry me?" he wondered.
"Well, I was going to, but I think it's best that I walk in with Mary, present our new, um, you know, queen...so Greg's going to do it." John shrugged. Sherlock nodded, the word 'queen' stabbing him through his heart like a blade. Their new queen, Mary Morstan.
"Alright, Greg then." Sherlock agreed.
"I'm sorry." John managed.
"For what?" Sherlock sighed, not really wanting to have a deep conversation with John again.
"Kidnapping you, giving you hope that maybe something between us could..."
"I'm not delusional enough to hope, John." Sherlock snapped. "And I told you before, you're jumping to conclusions."
"So you're saying you don't love me?" John asked. Sherlock looked up at him with his broken eyes, and didn't say anything. John didn't deserve to be lied to, but he couldn't know the truth. Silence would do, except, silence told a million words. Probably better than Sherlock could say them as well.
"Aright then, that answers that." John muttered, starting to turn away.
"It's not what you think." Sherlock said hurriedly, before John walked away. He turned around with a rather confused look on his face.
"Then what is it?" John wondered.
"I don't know what it is, I don't even know what you think, but I guarantee, whatever you're thinking, it's not the truth." Sherlock insisted. John looked moderately confused, but nodded.
"Alright then, just when I thought I was confused." John said with a rather forced, painful little laugh.
"It's crazy though, John, you think I'm insane, don't you?" Sherlock muttered. "A boy who likes boys, it's crazy." He muttered.
"It's not crazy." John whispered. Sherlock looked up at him in surprise, as if not daring to believe his ears.
"It's not?" Sherlock asked hopefully. John looked rather uncomfortable, staring at his shoes and then right back at Sherlock and then back at his shoes, as if he didn't know what to look at or what to do.
"Sherlock, I'm having a conversation with a merman. I think being a homosexual might be the most normal thing about you." John decided.
"I'm not..." Sherlock started, but John cut him off.
"I'll have Greg come get you when everything's started to get loaded up." John decided, and with that he turned away and walked out of the door, leaving it open so that Sherlock could see many suitcases lined up at the door to their bedroom. Sherlock heard the sound of bags getting brought up, sails being lowered, crates of food and supplies being stacked, and finally the ramp down to the dock. They were home free. A couple of minutes later Greg arrived, dressed in a button down shirt and slacks, as if he wanted to look good as they walked down the runway back home.
"I'm your chariot for this evening." He said with a funny accent Sherlock didn't recognize.
"Well that's great." Sherlock groaned.
"Say goodbye to your bathtub Sherlock, the same walls you've been staring at since they dragged you on board." Greg suggested.
"Don't you worry, they won't be missed." Sherlock assured, lifting his arms up and letting Greg drag him out of the foggy bathwater, ready to go back home. When Greg carried him onto the deck, the bright sunlight burned Sherlock's eyes like fire, the brightest light he had seen since he had been carried onto the deck in the first place. Merpeople weren't meant to be in harsh sunlight, there was always a layer of water between them and the sun, so his eyes were far from adjusted. He clung to Greg's neck and watched as John and Mary got the last of their thing together, giving it to the servants that had come aboard to give a hand with the luggage. A couple of them noticed Sherlock's presence, staring very obviously as if trying to tell if he was real or not.
"Keep walking." Greg snapped at a maid who had nearly dropped her armful of laundry bags, her mouth agape in shock.
"Is this how it's always going to be?" Sherlock muttered as a butler stopped what he was doing to stare.
"Yes of course, you're the only merman alive; of course they're going to stare." Greg insisted.
"I'm taking the attention away from our new queen, I almost feel bad. Almost." Sherlock muttered.
"You should be our new queen." Greg muttered, and Sherlock just laughed, a feat that was rather difficult while trapped in someone's princess carry.
"Sherlock are you ready?" John asked, coming up to them hand in hand with Mary, as if trying to remind Sherlock that he was straight. Well, at least he thought he was.
"To get off of this miserable ship? Certainly." Sherlock agreed.
"Your, um, room is ready, so you can get moved right in." John decided. Obviously he didn't want to call it a pen, or a cage.
"Oh, brilliant, if you could just get my bags, they're on the bottom of the ocean somewhere, that would be great." Sherlock snapped, and Greg smiled daringly until he saw the look on John's face. His smile faded immediately.
"I mean, it's not like you wear clothes, what could you possibly own?" Mary wondered.
"Hair products." Sherlock snapped.
"We've got hair products." John assured, smiling as if that was a weird request.
"How about tail products, you got any scale shine?" Sherlock asked.
"Um...no, not really." John muttered rather awkwardly.
"Ya, I thought not. Let's get this over with then; I'm sure there are a lot of townspeople that still haven't stared at me yet." Sherlock sighed.
"Quite the egocentric now huh?" Mary laughed, and Sherlock just scowled.
"No, sarcastic, Mary, I'm being sarcastic." Sherlock snapped. Mary's smile faded away as soon as Sherlock corrected her. The servants began lugging the luggage down the ramp, bump, bump, bump, their footsteps echoing over the quiet ocean. Sherlock wondered what was going on back home, how desperate his brother was, how nervous Victor was, how pained his mother was. It was his mother he worried about the most, he didn't know how she would be able to hold up with the idea that her son was kidnapped by the 'ruthless' humans.
"Let's go then." John decided, interlocking his fingers with Mary's and suddenly making Sherlock very interested in the sky above, anything to get his mind away from these disgusting love birds, love that should've been his. The future Watsons made their way off of the ship and Sherlock heard the crowd cheering and waving their welcome, the towns people nearly falling over themselves to meet their new queen. Sherlock couldn't hear them, but he knew that the whole town had to be there to make this much noise. Greg gave them about a minute or two in the spotlight, considering once Sherlock came off the boat, everyone would soon forget about the royal family. They'll want to see the mutant fish boy instead.
"Alright, ready for your first taste of fame?" Greg wondered. Sherlock sighed, but nodded, steadying his grip around Greg's neck and letting the boy start to walk down the ramp. As soon as the townspeople saw him, there was a collective gasp and the most awful silence Sherlock had ever heard. He expected screaming, cheering, shouting, but there was nothing. No noise at all. They simply stared, flabbergasted, at the merman in Greg's arms. Sherlock scanned the crowd as well, so many humans, so many legs and so many lungs, staring at him like he was a freak, which he was of course. He didn't smile at them, he didn't wave or bask in the glory, he just stared right back, as if they were as weird to him as he was to them. Greg walked up the quiet cobblestone road, the same road Sherlock had wandered on when he had first arrived on land, clutching a sheet around himself and wobbling on his new legs. They passed through the familiar towns, past the stables where Sherlock had cleaned the horses and the donkeys, past the churches and the homes of the towns people, the shops and restaurants, up the path to the castle, where John and Mary were already waiting at the gate. It was so good to be back, but right now, Sherlock felt as if he had never left.
"They seem rather shocked to see a merman." John decided with a laugh, a rather forceful laugh, but a laugh all the same.
"I wonder why." Sherlock grumbled, repositioning himself in Greg's arms and scowling at the guards, one of which had dropped their spear in surprise.
"Well um, I'm going to take Sherlock upstairs, you know, into the castle, where he's never been before, to the tank, where he's also never been." Greg decided, not seeming to do too good under pressure. Maybe it was a mistake not to wipe his idiot brain as well. John and Mary looked at him kind of oddly, as if wondering why he was stating the 'obvious', but nodded all the same.
"I'll take him." John offered, letting go of Mary's hand and stepping forward. A little bit of panic shot through Sherlock's body, the idea of being carried around by John, who was under the correct assumption that he loved him, was a little bit awkward.
"No, it's fine; you show Mary to her room, it'll only take..." Greg stared, obviously seeing the problem as well.
"I was the one that took him aboard and brought him into this mess, I should be the one to show him to his new home." John decided.
"Home...yes." Sherlock muttered. He had rather assumed this was a temporary thing, eventually the humans will get bored of the same crusty old merman, right?
"It's fine John, you can take Sherlock, Greg can show me my room. We have dinner tonight, right, at 5:30?" Mary asked, placing her hand on John's shoulder as if trying to give him her permission. As if he needed it in the first place.
"Yes we do, a dinner under the stars, it should be very nice." John agreed.
"Well, this kingdom is lovely, and you are as well, so I assume dinner shall be the same." Mary decided, pressing a kiss on John's cheek lovingly. Sherlock couldn't help but cringe, and Greg probably felt a disgusted twitch in his tail.
"Alright then, well, he's the mermaid." Greg shrugged.
"Merman." Sherlock snapped.
"Merman." Greg corrected. 

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