Just An Ocean Apart

Taking Shots With a Merman

    "So, how was your first day?" John wondered. Sherlock sighed, shrugging as if it was no big deal.
"Oh, you know, it was just another day." he lied.
"It was terrible, wasn't it?" John muttered. Sherlock looked up at him with a rather crooked, proud smile.
"Ya, it was." Sherlock agreed. "But if it brings money to the kingdom, I mean, it's worth it." John nodded, setting the tray down for Sherlock to pick at. Sherlock stared at the lobster, still whole and shelled, sitting on the tray as if it could start walking away, off of the decorative leaves. He looked up at John in confusion when he saw, whether it was to his disgust or amazement, John was peeling off his jacket.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked quickly, taken aback. John just smiled at him, shrugging.
"Going for a swim I suppose." He shrugged. Sherlock stared, not sure if John wanted him to stare or to look away, as he started to unbutton his shirt, seemingly very comfortable. Sherlock, though, was definitely starting to think this was John's worst idea ever.
"Well, um, I don't know, I mean...." Sherlock muttered, his words stumbling over each other as he stared determinedly at the dock, even though he was shirtless himself.
"Don't be all weird about it Sherlock, I have nowhere else to be, unless of course you'd rather me leave and you can eat your lobster alone." John suggested.
"No, it's fine." Sherlock muttered, seeing with horror as John's shirt fell right on top of his jacket. Sherlock didn't look up, he didn't know if he was allowed to or not. He heard a splash, and John started to do his freestyle to the end of the tank and back. Sherlock was left staring flabbergasted at the pile of clothes, watching as John's bare arms propelled him through the water, not quite sure what to do next. John knew what he felt, or at least, he thought he knew, even though Sherlock continually denied it. Why was he doing this, was he trying to flirt as well, was he starting to listen to his heart more? No, of course not, he was going for a swim, with his friend, his merman friend, and they were going to eat lobster together while the sun went down, together. Just the two of them. And it definitely wasn't a date. Sherlock just sighed, deciding just to go with it. If John wanted to see just how far Sherlock's attraction to him went, well, maybe he was just going to have to experiment. So Sherlock took the lobster tray very carefully in his hands and began swimming to the little rock island, doing his best to keep the lobster far above the surface of the water, just in case he accidentally dropped the cooked lobster back into its previous home.
"Where are you going with that?" John asked from the other side of the tank, staring to breaststroke back.
"Picnic." Sherlock said happily. He had learned that word from John on their previous adventures, when they were just falling in love. John had taken him up to a hill and had packed a lunch to share, they had ridden horses out, it was all very romantic.
"A picnic, really?" John muttered, as if that were a really funny concept.
"Yes, what's wrong with that? It's a big lobster, and even though I could probably eat the whole thing, I have no idea how to open the shell." Sherlock admitted with a rather small laugh. John smiled lovingly, as if Sherlock's idiocy warmed his heart. Sherlock only hoped it did.
"Alright then, let's do it." he agreed, swimming to the rock island and clambering onto the shore. The sunlight from behind the windowpanes filtered in beautiful, reflecting off of the water and starting to glow with a peaceful orange color. It was even more romantic than candle light; maybe John had planned this all along. Sherlock pushed the lobster onto a rather large rock and pulled himself up as well, with maximum effort. It's been a while since he actually had to move, and his muscles felt a little bit squishy.
"Do you need a hand there?" John asked with a laugh, standing above him as Sherlock struggled to pull himself onto the rock.
"I'm good, just..." he pulled some more, his tail scraping against the rock and making him grit his teeth, flapping his fin through the air as if that would somehow help propel him up. Ya, this was kind of embarrassing.
"Sherlock, maybe you could, alright, here we go." John decided, grabbing one of Sherlock's arms and pulling him all the way onto the rock. Unfortunately he wasn't lifted; he just sort of dragged against the course stone, his bare chest and his tail scraping painfully along. Sherlock screeched with pain, but of course he had to do his best to hide it, so it was more like a low grunt of discomfort.
"Sorry." John muttered, and Sherlock just shook his head multiple times, as if there was nothing wrong with his bare skin getting rubbed raw on sandpaper.
"You're good, you're good." He assured, although he wasn't so sure.
"Alright then, you're going to shell your first lobster." John said happily. Sherlock made a point of staring at his face, only his face, and not his chest. It wasn't too difficult, but once he thought about avoiding awkward staring, the more complicated it got not to awkward stare.
"I've done it before, but I used rocks and all that stuff, it was very complex." Sherlock shrugged. Of course he was lying; the only way he had eaten lobster was when the servants pulled it apart for him. It was very slow but very yummy.
"Alright then, you take this little tool, see here?" John asked, holding up what looked like a tiny iron baseball bat for Sherlock to see.
"Ya, what do you do with that?" Sherlock muttered, doubtfully.
"And you just smack it until the shell breaks." John said, starting to hit the lobster shell as hard as he could until there was an ungodly crack, and the shell split open.
"Oh my god, oh my...that's really violent." Sherlock muttered, studying the lobster a bit more. John started to scoop the lobster remains out with his fingers, pushing the meat to the side and picking out spare bits of shell and fat.
"Not too hard, ya?" John shrugged, picking up a piece of lobster flesh and eating it. Sherlock stared at him rather doubtfully, but nodded.
"Ya, not too hard." He agreed, and picking up the club himself to start on the rest of the poor creature. John continued to pull out lobster meat and divvying it up, half to Sherlock, half to himself, and the two feasted on the lobster as the sun went down, the water glowing with beautiful colors. Sherlock kept looking at the potion around his neck, wondering if now was the time, wondering if John would be stupid enough to ever drink something from him. When the lobster was finished they didn't have a good reason to stay silent, so they sat there on the rock, trying to think of a reasonable conversation starter.
"So, how was your day then?" Sherlock muttered, an extremely weak question, but hopefully John would start an elaborate conversation about how amazing his day was, frolicking around with Mary and Greg while Sherlock was stuck in a tank.
"Quite boring to be honest, wedding planning." John sighed. Sherlock nodded, trying to forget he ever heard John say that. Wedding planning, for a wedding that Sherlock wouldn't be involved in. Marrying someone else. It felt like a stab to the heart with a jagged rock.
"Oh, that's...that's nice." Sherlock muttered, flopping his tail against the rock and making a very odd sound.
"You don't have to pretend Sherlock." John insisted. Sherlock looked up at him in confusion, not sure what John was getting at.
"Pretend?" he muttered.
"Pretend that it doesn't hurt you, me getting married. Pretend that you care about my wedding, that you care about Mary and you care about my wellbeing." John assured.
"I care, I care very much." Sherlock insisted.
"Then why do you look like you just got shot every time I mention her name?" John wondered. Sherlock stared at the water, rippling softly against the rock they were sitting on even though there couldn't be a current coming from anywhere.
"You think...you still think I'm in love with you? Is that what this is?" Sherlock wondered.
"You said it yourself; I'm just trying to be a supportive friend." John insisted. Friend. That hurt more than the wedding.
"Well you're doing splendidly, cornering me and demanding I spill all the contents of my little, misunderstood heart to you because you said please." Sherlock snapped.
"I'm not trying to corner you, or force you to do anything, Sherlock; I legitimately care about you, and everything that you do and everything that you deserve. You deserve happiness, and I've done so much to ensure that you have it." John insisted.
"Yes, I know, and I respect that John, I really do." Sherlock assured.
"But it's not enough. There's something I haven't done, you still look miserable." John pointed out.
"It beats going back home." Sherlock sighed. "If I even had one."
"This can be your home, we can be your family." John insisted, trying to reach out and take Sherlock's hand, which lay innocently on the rock beside him. Sherlock pulled away immediately, loving the touch of John's skin but not wanting John to know, not wanting him to feel the shivers that radiated through Sherlock's body when John so much as brushed against him.
"You don't mean that, John, you don't want me." Sherlock whispered, trying to scoot away from John ever so slightly, in case he got any more ideas of comforting.
"I do Sherlock. I do." John insisted. "You mean more to me than anyone ever has, you're my merman, you're my wonder, you're half the reason I keep a smile on my face day to day. You're my friend, and I love you as only a friend could."
"But you don't understand, John, you don't understand me. I'm complex, I'm a jigsaw puzzle, but I'll never be solved. My emotions, my feelings, my mind, it's too much of an enigma. I'm not normal, even by whatever merpeople standards there might be, I'm definitely not normal by humans standards, and my tail is just the start." Sherlock muttered.
"What don't I know? Tell me what I don't know, help me find out." John insisted. Sherlock sighed, picking the potion off of his neck and pulling the kelp string off of his neck.
"This potion, it's for you. It's always been for you, I told you in the cave, I told you to drink it. But you weren't ready then, I think...I think you might be now." Sherlock muttered.
"What is it?" John wondered. Sherlock twirled the potion in his hands, feeling the heat of the drink beneath his fingers, knowing that this potion held all of his happiness, all his potential love.
"I think you'll find out. You'll find out a lot of things, actually." Sherlock decided. John nodded, holding out his hand.
"Alright." He decided. Sherlock looked at him in confusion, he thought there would be a lot more questions, a lot more doubt.
"That's it? Alright?" he muttered. John's eyes were determined, his mind was set.
"Yes, of course. I'll drink it. I trust you." John assured. Sherlock stared at the potion and back at John, carefully holding it out and dropping it into his outstretched palm. Sherlock almost felt naked without the potion around his neck, it felt wrong, but he knew it was right. This was John's destiny, he drinks that potion, he remembers everything, the love, the bonding, the kiss... John was staring at the potion for a moment, the bubbling hot red liquid corked in the little glass ball.
"It won't hurt me?" he muttered.
"It shouldn't." Sherlock agreed. John looked at him nervously, but uncorked the bottle, bubbles rising into the air and popping quickly, right under his nose. A foul stench rose from the bottle as well, making John wince.
"I trust you." He decided, and started to hold the bottle up to his lips. Sherlock twisted his tail in anticipation, trying to appreciate that this was the last moment John would love Mary. Once that potion touched his lips, he would know everything and then some.
"Are you taking shots with a mermaid?" asked a high pitched, annoying voice from the ground below. John lowered the bottle in annoyance, and Sherlock looked down to see Harry Watson, John's annoying and unnecessary sister, standing with her arms crossed in front of the tank.
"Merman, and no." John snapped, pushing the cork back onto the bottle and pocketing the potion. Sherlock wanted to take it back, but obviously John had his mind made up.
"Don't drink it without me." Sherlock hissed, and John nodded quickly, getting to his feet and brushing off the stray bit of lobster shell from his pants.

"Oh dear, John, nudity, honestly, where is your shirt?" Harry laughed.
"We were swimming!" John snapped, watching as his sister climbed up the stairs to the docks. Obviously she hadn't seen Sherlock before, but then again, she saw him when he was the servant. She would recognize him if she got close enough, and in front of John! Sherlock fell into the water with a determined splash, emerging only slightly behind a rock so that Harry couldn't see his face or hair. She was too much of an idiot to try to be discreet, she would give the whole thing away, she would...ugh. This was going to be terrible. Dispute being a lady, Harry wore baggy tan pants and a button down white shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy bun on the back of her head and wore no makeup. Sherlock respected that, of course, being herself in a world like this. Harry had a relationship with her servant, Clara, or at least, she had when Sherlock had been here last. The two had a very dysfunctional relationship, and when Sherlock first met Clara her arm was in a sling, since Harry had broken it with a high heel. He doubted they were still together to be honest; Harry didn't seem to be the type to have long term relationships.
"Where'd he go?" Harry asked, standing on the dock and scanning the water. Sherlock sat behind a rock, and John eyed him curiously.
"I think you're scaring him." John decided.
"Oh, nonsense. If he can sit up there with you when you're shirtless, there's no way he's scared of anything." Harry laughed.
"Obviously he's scared of you." John decided, and Sherlock nodded his head violently to the door, trying to get John to throw his sister out. They were having a moment, and she was ruining it.
"His name is Sherlock?" she wondered.
"Yes." John snapped.
"Funny, I knew a Sherlock before." Harry sighed.
"Well, I mean, it might be a common name." John shrugged.
"It's not. I only knew one. He definitely wasn't a merman though." Harry laughed. Sherlock closed his eyes in fear, balling up his fists, praying that Harry wouldn't say anything stupid, that John wouldn't piece two and two together.
"What are you doing here Harry?" John asked, sounding very annoyed.
"I'm just here to see the mermaid, like the rest of the peasants coming through our castle." Harry insisted.
"I'm a merman!" Sherlock yelled, and he heard Harry laugh from above.
"Sorry, I'll watch my pronouns." She muttered.
"You better." Sherlock growled. He could almost hear her roll her eyes.
"He's not coming out, so you better go." John decided. Oh don't worry, Sherlock was very much planning on coming out. Maybe John would join him.
"Why, want some privacy? Do you love this Sherlock as well?" Harry snapped. Sherlock winced, but John just looked confused, standing on the rocks with a scowl.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." John snapped.
"Shut up John, you're just so oblivious sometimes." Harry sighed, but Sherlock started to hear her retreating footsteps.
"Yes, maybe I am. Goodbye now." John snapped.
"Watch out merman, don't let him make any advances. I'm sure you won't like his kisses, or the wrath of his angry new fiancé." Harry laughed.
"Shut up Harry." John yelled. Sherlock could only agree, she was being a real pain.
"Goodbye little brother, bye Sherlock #2!" she yelled, but her voice was already sounding distant, she was starting to leave. Sherlock didn't say goodbye back, and soon he started to breathe normally, started to ease out of his rocky hiding place.
"What was that about?" John muttered.
"That's your sister?" Sherlock asked, pretending to be horrified. John sighed, but nodded, as if he didn't like her either.
"Yep. Not my choice, trust me, she's a psychopath." John agreed.
"Definitely." Sherlock muttered. John started to put the remains of the lobster back on the tray, and Sherlock swam up to collect it, swimming it over to the dock and hearing John jump back into the water, splashing and swimming over to the dock as well, to reclaim his clothing. As he clambered up the ladder Sherlock tried to think of something to say, a goodbye that was fitting for this type of situation.
"Don't drink the potion without me." Sherlock insisted, trying to pretend that didn't sound creepy. John seemed unaffected, however, and he just nodded.
"I'll keep it safe, and I'll wait for you." John assured, pulling on his dry shirt and jacket, rubbing the stray water droplets out of his hair. He looked beautiful, but Sherlock couldn't acknowledge that, in fact, he felt guilty just noticing it.
"Alright then, I guess I'll be seeing you later." Sherlock muttered awkwardly, trying to think of something else to say, something to justify the conversation they were having.
"I guess you will." John agreed, grabbing the tray and walking down the stairs before Sherlock could say anything more. Maybe that was for the best.