Sherlolly Oneshots

The Captian (Pirate!Lock)

Scroll a bit for part 2, friends.  Enjoy the Pirate!Lock!

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A tall, lithe man walked through marbled halls, hands clasped behind his back.  His face remained one that looked unamused, though his ears were pricked and eyes flicked around the hall curiously.  He paused, coming upon two grand wooden doors laden with gold trimmings.  The man ran his fingers over the wood work, tracing each dark plank before pushing open the heavy door.

A man sat inside, surrounded by countless papers.  He didn't look up when the other entered, instead calling out to him.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Mycroft Holmes."

The man in the chair, Mycroft, looked up, leaning back and sighing.  The dark haired man, Sherlock, raised an eyebrow as he watched him.

Mycroft looked out the window to the calm seas that lapped at a sandy shore, "you've heard of The Captain, I presume?"

Sherlock followed his gaze, "who hasn't?"

"He has intercepted one too many British cargo ships, brother dear," Mycroft turned to Sherlock, his tired gaze suddenly turning sharp and cold, "I'm sending you to do something about it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "me?"

"Yes you, you're better than any blubbering fool I could hire.  Also, I trust you'll do a sneakier job than any of them." 

Sherlock paused, tilting his head up.  "The only question I have is, you trust me?" 

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, clasping his hands together and dipping his chin towards his chest.  "Should I?"

Sherlock met his gaze, his icy eyes cold yet still sparked with interest.  He finally let a small grin tug at the corners of his lips, "yes, yes I suppose you should."

Two weeks later

Sherlock stood on the edge of tall ship, the wind whipping his curly dark hair around as he looked down into the turning sea.  If he was correct, this cargo ship would be next to meet a bloody fate at the cruel hands of The Captain, and he would be right there to witness.

He did feel a bit guilty about not warning the crew, but nothing would deter him from the mission he was sent to do.

Sherlock felt a hand tap his shoulder and he turned around, his face still and eyes narrowed.  A stocky, silver-haired man coughed and lifted his eyes to Sherlock's, who raised an eyebrow.

"I'm Lestrade, the captain of this ship."  When Sherlock didn't say anything he cleared his throat and continued, "I just wanted to say that I'm not really sure as to why you chose to board this ship, seeing as there's a blood-thirsty pirate on the loose, but, uh, we're glad to have you."

Sherlock stared at Lestrade with an uninterested look.  The captain looked away and slowly nodded, an awkwardness weighing down on him.  He opened his mouth to speak when suddenly there was a warning cry from the crows nest and a man pointed out towards sea.

"It's The Hell-Born!" 

Lestrade's face drained of color as he looked to the sea, Sherlock following his gaze.  A small smile formed on his lips when he saw a small dot in the distance, growing bigger by the second.

Lestrade sputtered, "raise the sails!  Tie off the mast!  Ready the- oh who am I kidding?  Prepare for battle!"

Sherlock watched as the frantic crew scurried around the boat, drawing firearms and muskets.  However, it seemed their fate was decided.  The Hell-Born was upon them now.