Not Knowing - Wholock

III • 3

"Pick a time?" Sherlock asked, incredulously. "There are infinite possibilities. How can I just pick one?" The Doctor smiled.
"And a person," Sherlock continued. "There are seven and a half billion living today. What about all the dead ones?"
"Sherlock, you're over thinking this." The Doctor chuckled.
Sherlock gave a short, humourless laugh. "That's what I do be-" He stopped talking suddenly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Pirates." He muttered.
"Pirates?" The Doctor asked, smiling fondly.
"Yes. Take me to see pirates." He straightened up, assuming an uninterested look, though the Doctor knew he was containing his excitement.
"Pirates it is." He grinned. "16th century Africa, here we come."

***

The TARDIS touched down and immediately began rocking back and forth. Sherlock grabbed the closest handhold and looked to the Doctor. He shrugged.
"It seems we've landed on rough seas." "We're on the ocean?" Sherlock demanded, his usual sensible, collected self replaced by panic and wonder.
"No, of course not!" The Doctor said this as though this was the most asinine thing to assume, although he smiled. Perhaps he knew that his whole lifestyle was asinine, at least to someone who'd spent their entire recallable life ignorant of the solar system.
"We're on a boat!" He announced, flinging open the doors. "A pirate ship, to be exact."
Sherlock looked out, with something like hesitance. People who knew him would never have considered this adjective to describe him, but seeing him now they couldn't deny how he seemed so unsure of his own actions.
He didn't understand it himself. He felt vulnerable. He didn't like it.

The Doctor seemed ignorant to his discomfort, beckoning him from where he had already begun exploring the ship, which was still shuddering.
Giving in to the magnetic personality of this strange man, Sherlock followed. The TARDIS had landed in the very bowels of the ship and they had to climb a set of wooden stairs before they could hear the rain and thunder.

The logical side of Sherlock had returned and he thought that perhaps it wasn't the best idea to simply appear on deck a pirate ship, essentially castaways, in the middle of a storm.

They could hear shouting now.

But then, it also didn't seem terribly logical that they were even here in the first place, on a 16th century pirate ship in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. It wasn't just illogical, it was insane. Completely ridiculous. And yet his brain continued to send signals to his limbs and he walked, following the Doctor and ignoring the warnings that were flashing red in his mind, demanding to be noticed.
He suddenly felt like a child again, running around with his felt hat and wooden sword, pretending to be a great pirate sailing the seven seas.
He smiled.
Just a little.

As soon as they reached the deck, the rain pounded down on them, soaking them almost immediately. For once, Sherlock didn't appreciate the presence of his coat. He pushed his wet hair out of his face and wiped the water from his eyes the best he could. He blinked, trying to take in the scene before him.
Pirates.
But they weren't like he had imagined them as a child. And they didn't seem to notice him and the Doctor. They were way too preoccupied with what was rocking the ship so.
The Doctor looked mesmerised by the thing, while Sherlock was still wiping his eyes, sure that what he was seeing wasn't real.

A colossal creature, somewhat resembling an octopus, but far larger and more fearsome, had several of its arms wrapped around the ship.
"What on earth is that?" Sherlock asked, turning to the Doctor, wide eyed.
"No idea." The Doctor replied, his eyes still fixed on the creature. "But I have a feeling it's not supposed to be on earth at all."
"It's the Kraken." A pirate who stood not far from them whispered. He didn't seem to notice that they didn't belong, but maybe it was only because he was so terror-stricken. His voice shook as he spoke, quietly so as not to disturb the creature.
"A Kraken! Fantastic!" The Doctor spoke excitedly, his voice loud.
"Shhh!" Another pirate, who appeared to be the captain, scolded him quietly. It was strange to see a powerful and much feared man reduced to such a state.
But the Kraken had heard. Its huge head swiveled toward the Doctor, fixing it's eyes on him. Its pupils became narrow slits as it took in the giddy man below in amongst the terrified pirates.
The Doctor didn't look frightened at all, in fact he seemed glad to have gotten it's attention.
The creature's large body moved slightly and it uttered a guttural sound. Despite the awful noises it was making, Sherlock understood it in English.
Another one of the Doctor's tricks, he was sure.
"Kraken? What is this Kraken you speak of?"
"It's a Norwegian word, the definite form of Krake, meaning an unhealthy animal. Modern German translation would be oct-" The Doctor held up a hand, stopping Sherlock's etymology speech midway.
The creature uttered something close to a sneer, it's entire body rumbling, and therefore the ship that it still held captive.
Without warning, it released its grip on the bow of the ship and used it's free arm to pick up Sherlock. It wrapped around his body like a massive hand, putting enough pressure on his lungs to make his face turn purple. He managed to turn his head despite the vise grip of the creature's arm on his neck and chest. He focused on the Doctor, making eye contact. He shook his head. He didn't want this man dying in such an uncomfortable way just to save him. He wasn't worth anything.
He let out a strangled cough before he went limp. The creature hurled his body back onto the deck of the ship with brutal force, slamming his head into the wooden plank floor.
He lay still.
The rain that continued to pound down mixed with the blood that matted his hair, creating rivulets of pink  that washed onto the deck where he lay motionless.
Suddenly, the Doctor's giddy interest turned to wrath. Anger boiled up inside of him in a way that couldn't be described in any language. He'd seen Sherlock shake his head no, but he wasn't going to give up.
"Why did you hurt my friend?" He growled.
His voice was dangerously low.
The creature let out a deep, guttural, and frankly terrifying laugh. "If you love your friend so much, keep his mouth in check." It snarled.
"You strangled him because he answered your question? That seems a bit rash to me."
"He did not answer my question. He belittled my species." It growled.

The Doctor turned to the pirate standing closest him and gestured toward Sherlock's body.
"Take him downstairs."
"Who are you?" The pirate questioned, apparently finally realising that he wasn't one of them.
"No time, I'll explain later, now take him downstairs." He insisted.
The pirate complied, perhaps because he had seen this man communicate with the entity that had been haunting them for days.
He and another pirate took hold of Sherlock and carried him downstairs, struggling under his dead weight.