Just An Ocean Apart

Salt Water and Heaven

Sherlock panicked a little bit, ripping the stopper off of the bottle and downing the whole thing in one sip. He had nearly forgotten the pain the potion had on him, nearly. The very potion burned all the way down his throat like acid; he could feel it go down his esophagus and land in his stomach. As soon as the burning sensation settled in his stomach he started to feel what felt like white hot knives slicing through his tail, burning the scales off and peeling the skin away from his bones. He went underwater just long enough to scream in pain, but this was good, this meant it was working, he tried to embrace the pain, he tried to welcome it. Soon he felt his tail split in two, round off into legs, form bones, his fins turning into feet before his very eyes. And just like that his scales shed, the horrible black and blue pattern falling back into the ocean where it belonged and in their place two legs, fleshy, bony legs stuck out from his torso, in their rightful spot. Sherlock felt a burning sensation in his neck, and suddenly he couldn't breathe, suddenly his nostrils were starting to fill with water and his gills folded back into his neck, and he pumped his legs and his arms until his head had surfaced again, his legs kicking madly against the ocean current just to keep himself afloat. Sherlock could almost cry with happiness, it had worked, he was a human, but at the moment he couldn't celebrate, he had a wedding to crash. Sherlock pulled himself onto the dock, kicking his legs frantically and clawing at the wood, collapsing on the planks and staring up at the sun, wiggling his toes and flexing his knees. It was only then that he realized he was completely naked, and that really might be a bad way to first introduce himself as one of the humans. He got shakily to his feet, wobbling around and realizing that Victor had left his jacket hanging on one of the wooden poles, sticking out of the ocean. Maybe he had the same problem when he crawled out of the ocean himself. The talking continued, music played, Sherlock's heart beat faster and faster in fear that he was too late, that John and Mary had already said their vows and put on their rings. Sherlock grabbed the jacket, wobbling around for a moment before regaining his footing. Thankfully walking wasn't nearly as difficult as it had been at first, some sort of muscle memory had been planted inside of his brain, and as soon as he tied the jacket around his waist he started up the dock, the hot wood burning against the bottoms of his raw feet. But he couldn't worry about that, he couldn't worry about any of it, the only thing that mattered now was John, and the crowd that he could see right next to the ocean. Sherlock picked up his pace, watching as his feet struck the ground and his muscles struggled to push his body weight back up, towards the large crowd assembled on the grounds above. There were at least two hundred people, some seated in chairs, others standing, the whole town must have gathered to see their prince marry his princess. There was an aisle in between, an alter spread in front of them with white lace hanging from a wooden archway, and below it stood three people. One was obviously Mary, wearing a wedding dress and veil, one was the priest, standing above them on a pedestal and reading from a large book in a very bored, monotone voice. The last figure Sherlock could've picked out of any crowd, even if he wasn't standing above all the rest. It was John, the sunlight shining off of his golden hair, wearing a black suit and looking stunning, even from behind. Sherlock made sure the jacket was tied in a solid knot around his waist, dropping the satchel next to a tree where he could recover it later, and started down the aisle. At first no one paid any attention to him, their attention was fixed on the bride and groom, standing together, hand in hand. But the first person to screech alerted all the rest, and soon the whole crowd was starting to fuss about the half-naked man running through the aisle with a maniacal grin on his face. An old woman screamed bloody murder, and that was enough to make John turn around, still holding onto one of Mary's hands as if feeling like he had to. Sherlock ran all the way up to the alter, standing below the two of them and staring up into John's eyes. He had expected a smile to break out on his face as well, for him to let go of Mary's hand and throw himself into Sherlock's arms. But he just looked confused and amazed, staring at Sherlock as if he had just crawled out of his grave.
"Sherlock?" John whispered, so quietly that no one else could hear him. Mary turned as well, clutching her chest and making a sound very much resembling a screech owl.
"John, I did it, I took the potion, I'm a human again. I'm a human for you." Sherlock insisted, smiling up at John with hope gleaming in his eyes. John tried to stutter out a response, staring at Sherlock's legs as if not able to believe they were actually there.
"You weren't....this is all true?" he muttered, not able to take his eyes off of Sherlock, even as Mary muttered things about witchcraft and magic. Sherlock nodded fiercely, his heart nearly crawling out of his skin to leap at John once more. This was his time.
"It's all true, John, it's time, please." Sherlock insisted, stepping forward and holding out a hand for John to take.
"John don't listen to him, it's our wedding day." Mary insisted, holding John's hand even tighter in her own. John just stared, open mouthed, at Sherlock's extended hand. He looked unsure of himself, he looked apprehensive. 
"It's time you realized who you really love." Sherlock whispered, still holding out his hand.
"John, what's he talking about? That's rubbish, we're getting married!" Mary insisted. The crowd stirred behind them, whispering and talking. Sherlock could almost pick out Greg's above the rest, going on about he knew this was coming the whole time and how he had bet on it in some pub.
"Who I really love." John whispered.
"Yes John, yes. Who do you love?" Sherlock asked. John looked over at Mary for a moment, their eyes meeting and for a split, terrified moment Sherlock was worried he was going to say it was her. But then, to his amazement, John pulled his hand away from Mary's, putting it on top of Sherlock's extended hand and stepping down off of the altar, staring deep in Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock felt a tear of relief slide down his face, his lips stretched into a smile so wide it almost hurt.
"I used to love you, didn't I?" John asked. Sherlock nodded, holding John's hand in his own, their fingers interlocking like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, pulling him ever closer.
"You did, you still do." Sherlock insisted. John stepped even closer, taking Sherlock's other hand without breaking eye contact, the crowd muttering and Mary cursing from above.
"Get me out of here." John whispered, so close that Sherlock thought he might just kiss him here, in front of all the family, all of the noblemen, all of the townspeople, but he didn't. He just stared into Sherlock's eyes, deeper and deeper, until Sherlock wondered if he had already found out the truth just by staring.
"As you wish." Sherlock whispered back, and John's face broke out into a smile, dropping one of Sherlock's hands and starting to run down the aisle, away from the alter, away from the crowd, dragging Sherlock and his new legs behind, a smile on both of their faces, bright enough to outmatch the sun.
"Take me away, Sherlock Holmes; remind me of why I loved you in the first place." John called, pulling Sherlock along, the bottom of his jacket flapping through the wind as he ran down to the dock. As soon as they reached the docks, John stopped abruptly, leaving Sherlock to run into him, but neither of them seemed to care, neither seemed to mind being so close. For a moment their lips hovered above each other's, their faces so close that Sherlock could feel John's quick breaths against his skin.
"Do you have the potion?" Sherlock whispered. John nodded, pulling away ever so slightly and pulling the bottle out of his pocket. Sherlock took a couple of steps back, towards the edge of the dock, towards the water, watching as John eyed the potion suspiciously, taking a deep breath and looking up at Sherlock doubtfully.
"This will make me remember everything?" John wondered, staring up at Sherlock. Sherlock just stared back, more tears slipping out of his eyes as he reminded himself that he had done it. He had succeeded.
"Yes, just take it, take it and..." Sherlock's sentence was cut off when there was a loud splash and a great shape vaulted out of the water, jumping clear over the docks and dragging Sherlock down with it. Sherlock's breath was knocked out of him with the great force, and only as he sunk lower into the cold ocean did he see the familiar face of his brother, holding him under the waves, a look of pure rage in his fat face.
"HOW DARE YOU BETRAY ME, HOW DARE YOU RUN AWAY!" Mycroft exclaimed, his grip on Sherlock's bare shoulders like iron, his fingernails cutting into the poor human's skin. Sherlock held his breath the best he could, but he could already feel what little air he had escaping from his nose, rising to the surface in big bubbles.
"You think you can't live as a merman? Then you shall die as a human, in the realm you used to call home." Mycroft growled, pushing Sherlock deeper and deeper until the sun started to fade once more above the waves. Sherlock tried to kick, to punch his way out, but Mycroft held tight, the rage in his face enough to make Sherlock reconsider escaping all together. There was no way his brother could be thwarted, not again, not by some meager merman pretending to be a human. Mycroft's eyes bulged with rage, his jaw clenched and his face white, obviously he had been waiting for this for a long time.
"I'll make you pay, Sherlock, for all these things you've done, I'll make you suffer..." Mycroft insisted, but as soon as he finished his sentence something pried him off, his fingers were unclenched and he was pulled to the side, just as Sherlock had been. Mycroft and his attacker thrashed around in the water, but Sherlock couldn't care less about that, in fact he couldn't care about anything. He just focused on the sun, the sun poking its rays through the sea, the very same sun that lit the kingdom and the wedding guests and the ocean, Sherlock could see it above the waves. And he watched that as his lungs started to fill involuntarily with water, as his breath became more and more scarce, as he started to sink to the ocean floor. It was ironic, really, a merman drowning; it made him wonder if he was ever meant to be a merman at all. Maybe it had always been his fate to lose his gills right before he would be dragged under the water, maybe it was destiny for him to turn into a human just in time to die as one. Maybe it was fitting. The water started to become dark, the world blurry, but the sun remained the same, and as soon as Sherlock officially gave up, as soon as he was ready to inhale a mouthful of water, that was when he felt two arms wrap around his torso, that was when he was dragged towards the surface by two strong arms, powerful legs pumping through the water, a heart beating right against his ear, a heart beating out the melody of John Watson. They broke surface, Sherlock coughing out a mouthful of water, spitting it back into the ocean and clinging to John like he was the only thing he had left. In reality, he was, he was the only thing, the only one that mattered. Sherlock only paid attention to John, to the arms wrapped around his neck, to the heart beating in his chest. He didn't care that there were people lining the beach, all in formal attire, shrieking and gasping, he didn't care that his brother's body floated above the water, his neck twisted the wrong way and his eyes filling with blood. He didn't care about the waves that were pounding against the shore or the empty bottle that lay on the dock, not a drop of red potion left inside. They both took deep breaths of air, their legs kicking through the waves and treading water and keeping the two of them afloat, their arms tangled together and their bodies pressed together as one.
"You saved me." Sherlock whispered, the first words that he could force out of his throat.
"Yes, I did." John agreed, water dripping down his face, dropping from his soggy hair, clinging to his forehead. "You're a human."
"Yes, I am." Sherlock agreed. "I did it for you."
"I know. We both took our medicine, and now we're perfectly healthy, perfectly compatible." John agreed, his eyes sparkling.
"You remember me?" Sherlock whispered, hardly able to believe it.
"Sherlock Holmes I remember everything about you, and I love everything about you." John agreed, his fingers pulling their way through Sherlock's tangled curls on the back of his head. He was staring into Sherlock's eyes as if he couldn't get enough, as if Sherlock's very soul was leaking through his corneas and filling him with newfound life.
"I love you too, John, I always have." Sherlock whispered, their faces getting closer and closer.
"I know." John agreed, and with that their lips finally met, kissing the most overdue kiss the world has ever seen. Sherlock could barely breathe, it felt like he was drowning once more, but this was a good kind of drowning. This was the kind of drowning he was very much willing to submit himself to, even as his legs kept him afloat, even though he never sank back into the ocean again. His heart beat in sync with John's, his arms around John's neck and his eyes shut, cherishing ever motion, every feeling that this kiss could provide him with. After so long. Finally John pulled away, breathing heavily as if he had just emerged from water as well, a smile on his face as water drops dripped down his face. Sherlock's face was streaked with tears of joy, finally where someone could see them.
"You taste like saltwater." John decided, the first thing he thought he could say.
"You taste like heaven." Sherlock whispered back, and with that he kissed him again, just for good measure. All the pain, all the fear and the worries that had haunted Sherlock for so long, it all seeped out of his skin, it all sank back into the ocean where it belonged. Because he was where he belonged, truly and forever. He was with John Watson, and that was all he would ever need. 

A/N: So wow, okay, that ended. I feel like that story just started, what even in this? Ah that was so intense though, it was pretty funny to see all of you guys comment, but I hope you're satisfied with the ending. It was happy for once, and I actually loved it? I think that story was so beautiful, I think it was a really fitting as a continuation of Humans. It was wonderful :) Anyway, the ending is open for if I ever want to write a threequel, it's possible I have an idea, but I'll decide a little later I guess. It all depends on how quickly I watch the little mermaid haha. Anyway, after this story comes one of my favorite stories, and I'm really excited for you guys to read it! Anyway, have a nice rest of your day, and I can't wait for Wednesday!