Just An Ocean Apart

Humans Think I'm Pretty Cool

It was Mary, of course, dressed in a nice pink dress with a white bow in the back, her hair pulled up in an elaborate bun with glittering jewels around her neck. Even Sherlock could tell she looked beautiful, but he really didn't want John to think the same thing. But of course, when he looked back at John, the prince looked speechless. It seemed that even from where Sherlock swam, twenty feet above, he could still see the diamond engagement ring glittering on her finger. 

"Mary, you look...wow." John muttered, swimming over to the docks without a goodbye to Sherlock and climbing up the ladder, wringing out his clothing the best he could before walking down the staircase to meet his bride. Sherlock was left swimming at the top of the tank, completely forgotten, trying to keep a neutral face, trying not to let his mouth droop into a frown, not letting tears fall from his eyes, and not let the crushing weight of loneliness break his bones. And as he watched John and Mary walk away, hand in hand, Sherlock started to realize that being in this cage wasn't as glamorous as he previously thought. Maybe the only thing that he really liked about it was John's presence, and without him, it seemed almost bleak and depressing, even though the sunset was shining beautiful colors through the windows, reflecting off of the water as if the ocean was on fire.  

    The next morning, Sherlock lay on the coral at the bottom of the tank and watched the sun rise. He had no idea that the colors of the sunset reappeared when the sun rose, but in more pastel colors, in lighter reds and oranges, not so much as a roaring fire but maybe a soft flame in a candle, flickering along the scented wax. Sherlock wondered what made the sky erupt into such beauty, and why the sun's actions triggered such events. He wondered why anything on this earth was beautiful, was it made for the humans or did the humans make it beautiful? Why did flowers bloom, why did grass cover hillsides and trees blossom green leaves? Why did John Watson exist? Under the ocean you might call it beautiful, the coral reefs with fish swarming around, the green seaweed and the rays of weak sunlight casting down from the surface of the water. But in reality there was nothing beautiful about the ocean, it swallowed its victims whole, it trapped the creatures in its midst and it's a torrent of bleak darkness, depression, and totalitarianism. Mycroft may think he ruled over the merpeople in his kingdom, but in reality, it was the ocean that ruled them all, and with one sweep of its ancient, destructive hand, it could crush every last trace of the merpeople and what they wanted to call culture.
"Are you awake?" asked a voice from above, and Sherlock opened his eyes to see a blonde figure on the dock. Through his sleepy eyes and the stale ocean water, he couldn't tell just who it was; they didn't glow with the arura of beauty like John did. He swam to the surface and let his head skim the waves, seeing Greg sitting on the dock with a platter of fish, exactly like the ones on the boat.
"I brought you some food. I didn't really think they expected you to eat the fish in here, but John seemed to think it was unnecessary to feed you." Greg shrugged. Sherlock sighed, swimming closer to the dock and pulling his elbows on top of it, studying the tray of food that Greg had set down.
"John, how is he?" Sherlock wondered.
"I have absolutely no idea." Greg decided.
"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock muttered, plucking a piece of salmon from the tray and eating it slowly.
"I mean he is just a puzzle anymore, I can't tell what he's thinking or how he's feeling, and it doesn't seem like he'll let anyone in. Even Mary's expressed her concerns, and I thought John was telling her everything." Greg sighed.
"He's confused, I think we all are." Sherlock agreed.
"Confused about what?" Greg asked. Sherlock didn't answer him, eating a piece of flounder and ignoring the question.
"Is he in love with you as well?" Greg muttered, a smile appearing on his face. Sherlock just laughed, if only that were true.
"Oh no, he's in love with Mary, his bride. He seemed to have no trouble leaving me to go accompany her for dinner under the stars." Sherlock grumbled. "And he's insisting I don't need food."
"John's just, well, I don't know. He's just John. He shows his affections very differently from anyone else because he knows he's only supposed to love one person, the person his father picked for him. He may appear to love Mary, but on the inside, his heart might be beating for you." Greg pointed out.
"I'll believe that when I see it." Sherlock muttered doubtfully.
"I believe it, and I've known him longer." Greg insisted. "I've always been able to read him like a book, tell what he's feeling even if he won't tell me. I've seen John with all emotions under the sun, but I've never seen him like this."
"Then maybe he's just feeling multiple emotions at once." Sherlock suggested.
"I've never seen him in love." Greg pointed out. Sherlock sighed, that really wasn't Sherlock's problem, it was Mary Morstan's.
"Obviously that's because of the appearance of Mary." Sherlock sighed.
"Then why is he so determined to keep it secret?" Greg wondered. Sherlock groaned, pushing the tray of fish away and swimming farther away from the dock, keeping his head emerged just in case Greg had something else idiotic to say.
"You're not helping here Greg, at all. I don't want to think that John's in love with me, I don't want to give myself hope when we both know there is none." Sherlock insisted.
"But there is hope! Just let me give him the potion, he'll remember everything, you need to get this over with before the wedding, before he marries the wrong person!" Greg defended.
"How do you know she's the wrong person?" Sherlock snapped.
"Because she's not you!" Greg pointed out, kneeling down on the dock as if to get down to Sherlock's level, as if he needed to stare into Sherlock's eyes in order to pass the message completely.
"How do you know I'm the right person? I'm not even a person." Sherlock laughed.
"Yes you are Sherlock, you were, and he loved you then. He's too blind to see that he loves your soul, not your body. If you have legs, if you have a tail, it doesn't matter, you're you, and John loves that even if he doesn't know he does." Greg insisted. Sherlock sighed heavily, staring at Greg and trying to accept that what he had just said was true. But he couldn't do it. The words simply bounced right off of him, a shield of reality blocking whatever rubbish came out of Greg's mouth. John didn't love him, he never could, and so Sherlock sank below the water, letting Greg's muffled words from above get absorbed in the water. It was early when the people started to show up, right after breakfast, as if their children had forced them to get up at the crack of dawn to see the merman before the crowds started to pour in. Unfortunately, it seemed like everyone had that same mindset, and so everyone in the kingdom appeared early, and made an even larger pool than the procrastinators who might have waited until after lunch. The first family confused Sherlock, he had thought it was another chef, or maybe it was John, coming to admit his foolish love. But when he heard footsteps, Sherlock couldn't help but hope, darting up from his coral and swimming to the glass just to come face to face with a boy around the age of five, pawing at the glass with his fat, grimy hands with an amazed look on his face. Sherlock gave him a confused look, swimming just above the sandy surface so that the currents from his powerful tail kicking up sand and debris at the bottom of the cage.
"Look mommy look!" the child exclaimed. "It's a mermaid!" Sherlock didn't both correcting him, obviously the whole of the human race was under the impression that there was only one gender of merperson, and that was the mermaid. Of course, that was all the 'delusional' sailors ever talked about, beautiful maidens from the sea, with long flowing hair and seashell bras. It was always the mermaids that made their appearance, the mermen were too sensible to bother with human sailors on their boats. That was back before the fishing nets, the accidents, before the merpeople discovered just how dangerous humans can be. A mother and father came from the doorway as well, coming up to their child and gaping even wider at Sherlock in the tank. He studied them for a moment, simple farmers by the looks of them, with drab old clothes and worn leather shoes. It must have cost them all they had simply to stare at the merman behind the glass.
"It's beautiful." The mother muttered, walking even closer to the glass with an amazed look in her eyes. Sherlock couldn't help but stare back, not out of wonder but almost out of pity.
"Does it talk?" the child asked, staring up at Sherlock's face in wonder. Sherlock looked at him as well, a small little human; it was a wonder that John had once been that size.
"Yes it does." He muttered, and the entire family gasped in amazement.
"Oh wow!" the mother exclaimed. Sherlock wanted to be annoyed, he wanted to roll his eyes and grumble about how humans are so patronizing to him, gawking without care of the other creature's thoughts and feelings. But then again, they looked so sweet, so innocent; a family that had found love and made it work no matter what. He wondered if he would ever be so happy with so little. Then other families started funneling in, looking much different than the original. Some wore the same brown clothes, seemingly sewing their clothes with whatever they had available, and others wore extravagant dresses and suits, as if this was their biggest day out. Sherlock ignored the fancy looking ones, the ones that could come back again and again or possibly pay even more to have Sherlock look at them. He focused on the poor ones, the ones who looked excited just to step foot in the castle, those who had to push away the parasols and bunchy dresses of the rich just to get a good look. The ones in the dresses and suits seemed to think they had the right of way, pushing aside the townsfolks and getting right up to the glass, so Sherlock just swam softly to the side, or swam farther up so that even the young ones in the back could see him perfectly. After a while the crowds started to get so thick that they were stretching out of the door, and Sherlock was starting to get a little bit bored with his Robin Hood style, he was starting to get bored with pretty much everyone. Or at least, he was, until the crowd parted and a golden head started shifting through the crowds, pushing past people, all who started to ooh and awe at him as well, some dropping into bows or taking off their hats in respect. It had to be John. And Sherlock was right. He watched as the prince pushed closer and closer to the glass, thankfully pushing aside two very annoyingly rich people who had diamonds around their necks and so much powder on their face it made Sherlock want to sneeze.
"John, what are you doing here?" Sherlock wondered, and the whole crowd went berserk at his first sentence. John just smiled, wearing a simple out fit with a beautiful smile.
"What, I can't see my merman as well?" he asked. Sherlock just swam rather uncomfortably, not wanting the whole of the kingdom to see how red his cheeks got when in the gaze of the prince.
"No, of course, but...now?" Sherlock muttered.
"I've got nothing better to do." He admitted. Sherlock nodded, looking over the crowd, which had fallen silent in an attempt to hear every word exchanged.
"Kind a busy time for a conversation." Sherlock decided.
"I was just checking up on you. How do you like the fame?" John wondered.
"It's exhausting. I feel like I need to make an appearance because these people payed to see me, but I'd love to just sit on my coral and be done with them." Sherlock muttered, dropping his voice to a low whisper so that the townspeople couldn't hear him.
"Well, I could get them all out." John suggested.
"No, no, that would be robbing them." Sherlock insisted, and John just smiled.
"Look at you, caring for the people. You're like a prince." John laughed. If only he knew.
"Well, I don't pretend to be royalty. That's your job." Sherlock insisted.
"And yet I'm sure you're a lot more famous than me at the moment." John agreed.
"I have a fish tail, that's the only reason." Sherlock pointed out.
"Sherlock, you're a lot more than just a fish tail. Greg told me you were getting a bit, down." John pointed out.
"We can talk about this another time alright?" Sherlock insisted, noticing one of the women pressing her ear to the glass in order to hear Sherlock better.
"Alright." John agreed, smiling sweetly. Sherlock couldn't help but smile back.
"I'll see you later?" John asked.
"I have nowhere else to be. Or go for that matter." Sherlock admitted. John just laughed, shaking his head in amusement.
"Fair enough." He agreed, his eyes sparkling with something Sherlock hadn't noticed before. Or maybe it was just the glass between them. And with that he turned and starting shifting his way through the crowd, Sherlock watching him go until his beautiful blonde hair disappeared through the doors.

    "You can talk?" the rich old lady asked, banging on the glass impatiently as to make Sherlock notice her more. He ignored her. "Say something, fish boy!" she yelled. Sherlock groaned, but kept swimming away. The pounding didn't stop, and she kept screaming at Sherlock through the glass, demanding him to acknowledge her. Eventually Sherlock swam over to the lady, who had a hideous stuffed bird perched on her hat.
"Say something to me." she insisted. Sherlock just stared at her in dislike, and she stared back, the powder on her face cracking as her scowl deepened.
"Stop banging on my glass, you old hag." Sherlock snapped, and with that he swam to the other end of the tank, leaving the old lady to stare at him in disbelief, as if she couldn't imagine why anyone would be so rude. The rest of the day was filled with the same old nonsense, people came, they saw, they gaped and they squealed, and Sherlock tried to be as considerate as he could to their sacrifice. But honestly, standing in front of the glass all day and watching the humans gape and gasp, it was really boring. So he lay on the bottom of the tank after a while, every once and a while he would flap his tail through the water above just for show, listening to everyone start to squawk and squeal once more. Finally it got later and later, and the crowds started thinning until he didn't hear anymore voices, no footsteps, no chatter. He rose cautiously from the bottom of the tank and looked around cautiously, as if worried they were hiding underneath the stairs, trying to get another look. But there was no one there, the doors were shut, visiting hours were over. Sherlock sighed with relief, just about to swim over to his coral when the door opened once more.
 "Alright, I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to be in here." Sherlock decided, turning to see John walking over with a large tray of what looked like lobster. It looked good, a nice change from the usual fish. 

"Well, if you don't want me, I'm happy..."
"No!" Sherlock said at once, cutting off his sentence before he even thought about leaving.
"That's what I thought." John said with a small smile, climbing the stairs with the tray and appearing on the dock. Sherlock watched him patiently, gliding over to meet him.