Trust Issues

Starting Out

When Sherlock had said he’ll see them at sun rise, he wasn’t kidding. John felt as though it had only been an hour when someone was ringing a bell, calling for them all to get up. Everyone immediately sprang out of bed, rushing around to get dressed and ready for the day, but John had no idea what to do.
“You better hurry up, Anderson won’t be happy.” Greg insisted as John just lay in the bed, groggy from lack of sleep. His encouragements made John get up, pulling himself down the ladder and onto his feet. There wasn’t much room to walk or even stand, but soon the room was slowly emptying, everyone going to fulfil their morning duties.
“We should go.” Greg decided, clipping on his belt with a knife and revolver hanging from it and walking swiftly to the door. They were the last ones out, all of the others already on deck, putting up sails and pulling ropes.
“I have to go help; I’ll see you at breakfast.” Greg decided, walking across the deck to help pull up an anchor. John looked around, wondering what to do. He looked around for Sherlock, who he saw on the deck with his men, instructing them and pointing to ropes and sails, calling things John couldn’t hear. He walked over to the Captain, who was once again in his trench coat. John thought that was an odd fashion choice, especially for a pirate. But at the moment, John would’ve done anything for a coat of his own, the cold morning mist was freezing on his skin. He walked over to where Sherlock was standing, a little bit apprehensive about asking what to do, but it was better than being thrown overboard for being a slacker.
“Excuse me, sir, is there anything I should be doing?” John asked. Sherlock just seemed to notice his presence, looking at him with curiosity.
“Did you sleep good Mr. Watson?” he asked, completely off topic.
“No sir.” John answered truthfully.
“I would expect not. Was there a bunk available?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. And I see somewhere along the line you picked up some manners, that’s even better.” Sherlock said with a smile. “To answer your question Mr. Watson, there isn’t anything you should be doing at the moment but waiting for breakfast. After that I will show you exactly what to do and you’ll be on your way.” John looked around, thankful he didn’t have to help, but wondering what to occupy his time with. John decided to follow Sherlock’s orders though, and found a nice bench near the railing to sit on, watching the others work. He didn’t look around; he didn’t want to see what had become of his town after the night. There was probably nothing left to look at anyway. He felt sea mist hitting him in the back of the neck, cooling him to the bones, which didn’t help at all. He was shivering like crazy now, wishing he had one of his mother’s snuggly blankets that she knitted by the fire. A group of men ran past, carrying anchors and ropes, but John didn’t watch to see what they were doing with them. He just wanted to go home, he didn’t care about Cronus’s Scythe, he didn’t care about pirates, rum, or adventure. He just wanted to go home. After a while someone ran a bell from under the deck, and after a call from Sherlock everyone practically ran for the lower deck. John got up with confusion, thinking that it was probably breakfast, but not sure. Sherlock was strolling carelessly around the deck, making sure things were in order, but he seemed satisfied.
“Mr. Watson, are you not hungry?” he asked when he noticed John standing to the side.
“Was that breakfast then?” John asked.  
“Better hurry up before it’s gone; I heard they found some pigs, so that means they’ll be killing each other over the bacon.” Sherlock laughed.
“What about you sir?” John asked.
“They leave some for me, but I don’t eat much.” Sherlock shrugged, turning away from John and ending the conversation. John went back down the wooden stairs, and as Sherlock promised, the smell of bacon greeted him from a far room down the hall. Below deck was a lot more lit up now, oil lamps where hanging from pegs in the hall. It was impossible to miss the dining room, John could hear men yelling and talking very loudly. He walked into the room, his stomach growling for food, but he doubted there’d be any left. The room was like a cafeteria, with long tables and a lunch line counter thing with other people handing out food. John guessed they were the cooks. There actually was an organized line for food, which surprised John. They were actually quite civilized. But once they actually got the food and sat down at the tables they stuffed their faces with whatever was on their plate. John was willing to bet they were eyeing up their plates with hunger. Cautiously he joined the end of the line, looking at the food selections. There didn’t seem to be much left, but he saw eggs, toast, orange juice, and an empty what must have been bacon pan. The dining hall was loud, people eating, talking, and squeaking wooden furniture against the wooden floors. When John finally got his plate filled with food he looked around, trying to find a place to sit. He noticed Greg sitting separated from everyone else, with an available seat next to him. John walked over cautiously, he didn’t know if this kids was nice or not, but he suspected he was better than those other pirates.
“Is this seat taken?” John asked, knowing it wasn’t but trying to be polite.
“Be my guest.” Greg shrugged. John sat down, observing his food. There seemed to be a hair in his toast, which made him lose his appetite immediately. “It’s easier if you don’t observe it, just eat.” Greg suggested. John noticed he hadn’t looked at his food once.
“I’m guessing this is the usual.” John guessed, pulling the hair out with disgust.
“Usually worse, I heard David found a tooth once.” Greg said. John pushed his plate away.
“So much for that.” he decided.
“It’s actually gourmet compared to some other ships I’ve seen.” Greg pointed out.
“I guess Sherlock keeps a nice ship then.” John guessed.
“You mean the Captain?” Greg asked.
“Ya, him.” John agreed.
“He’s unusual, he never eats, I don’t think he sleeps, and he’s way too smart to be a pirate. But he does like things clean, and everyone has to be proper, there’s no drunk people here, they’re not even allowed to have girls on the ship.” Greg pointed out.
“It’s for the best probably.”
“Well it’s okay for the Captain I guess.”
“Why?”
“It’s no secret that he’s as straight as a hook.” Greg said with a little laugh.
“What do- oh.” John said, realizing what he actually meant.
“Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s not like he’s snogging everyone, we doubt he even has feelings.” Greg shrugged. John felt his face get hot again; Greg obviously knew how John had even gotten on the ship in the first place.
“So what are you even here for?” Greg asked.
“I’m the blacksmith. I’m guessing it would be better if I didn’t tell you why.” John said.
“Probably.”
“But I can just say you guys have got a great adventure ahead of you.” John assured.
“Good. Sometimes sitting around on this boat all day is rubbish.” Greg sighed.
“I can imagine. What do you even do on a pirate ship?” John asked.
 “It’s never nothing, we clean, we paint, we organize, we cook, sharpen weapons, check the seas, look at maps, and fight.” Greg said, counting on his fingers. “Basically we do everything.”
“What does the Captain do then?” John asked.
“Who even knows? He stays in his quarters all day, only comes out to yell at us or give us jobs.”
“And does he usually do the, you know, retrieving?” John asked, blushing more.
“No one else really has the charm for that, and he doesn’t look like a pirate so it’s easier.” Greg agreed. “Don’t let them get to you, I bet at one point all of them would’ve liked to be you.” Greg added, seeing John’s insecurity. John chuckled, but he doubted that was true. The men started to clean up, some clearing tables, sweeping under them, or wiping them down.
“I’ve got to go wash, I’ll see you around I suppose.” Greg said, and with that he got up and left. John, not hungry at all, abandoned his food and decided it would be best to go find Sherlock. He walked up the stairs and onto the deck, which was now bathed with sunlight. He realized that they were moving now, the waves splashing against the ship, but Selsey was no more than a speck in the horizon. Sherlock, as he guessed, was nowhere to be seen, so he must have been in the Captain’s Quarters. John walked nervously over and knocked on the wood, careful to avoid the stained glass.
“Enter.” Sherlock’s voice called. John cracked open the door cautiously, peeking his head in. Sherlock’s quarters were like royalty, maroon and gold painting, golden trim, and fancy furniture. He sat at an oak desk, writing with an eagle feather quill. There were maps and scrolls laid out in an organized mess on the desk.
“John, yes, give me a minute.” Sherlock said, finishing up whatever he was writing and rolling it up. John waited patiently, enjoying the warmth from the stone fireplace. Sherlock stood up, walking to the door where John stood. He didn’t have the trench coat on now, instead he was wearing a purple shirt with a black jacket and slacks, something John found quite odd for a pirate. Sherlock lead John over the deck and into the other room, where the furnace was keeping it nice and warm.
“Now, you have gold coins over here, you can melt them down and do whatever you like with them. We want the scythe to be a sort of hook shape, but as a sword, and engrave it and what not. It has to be extremely convincing John, you can’t mess up one detail.” Sherlock insisted.
“I can’t guarantee that, I’m still learning.” John pointed out.
“But I know you can do it.” Sherlock insisted. He looked at John with pure determination, his green eyes seeming to be looking at John’s very soul. John made sure not to look back into them; he knew where that would lead, just like the docks.
“I’ll do my best sir.” John agreed.
“Good. You’ll find all the tools you need in the bin, I have full trust in you.” Sherlock said, a final tone in his voice.
“Sherlock,” John started. Sherlock glared at him. “Captain, is my family safe?” John asked.
“I don’t know.” Sherlock said simply. “As long as Anderson followed my instructions.” John nodded, not liking that answer. He wished he could’ve told them where he was going, that he was okay, so they didn’t have to worry.
“Am I safe?” John added.
“As long as you follow my instructions.” Sherlock repeated. John didn’t know if that was a good answer or not. “Good day Mr. Watson, I’ll see you around.” Sherlock decided, leaving the room with a sweep. John sighed, looking around the room. It wasn’t much, but he’d have to make due. He found a pair of thick leather work gloves on the table, not exactly his old ones, but they’d work. He decided he’d start by melting down the coins, which made him a little bit guilty, but he knew what he had to do. John dumped the bin into a big pot hanging over the fire, knowing it would take a while. After that he had to mold the gold, which was going to be difficult, but to his enormous relief there was a mold of a scythe already sitting out on the table. If it was a good first try, this scythe would only take a day or two. After a long while of sitting around, watching the gold heat up and melt down, he finally poured the gold into the mold, letting it run through and fill all the spaces evenly. It looked very nice, melted gold, like melted butter but way more expensive. Now he had to wait for it to cool, which would take most of the day. He didn’t know what to do during this time, usually he and his father would go tend to the pigs while the metal was cooling, but John was willing to bet there were no pigs on this ship. He decided it would be best to ask Sherlock, he didn’t want to annoy him but he felt bad sitting around and doing nothing when there was probably some work to be done. When he opened the door he was shocked to feel the temperature difference, he hadn’t realized how hot it had been in there. The men were now on the deck again, all working on something different. John could hear weapons being sharpened from somewhere. Again he knocked on the door to the office, a little bit nervous.
“Enter.” Sherlock’s voice called. John walked in, and Sherlock looked a bit surprised to see him back.
“Sorry sir, but I was wondering if I should be doing anything while the gold cools. It’s still liquid right now.” John explained.
“Everything going well I assume?” Sherlock asked.
“So far.” John agreed.
“That’s good. I don’t have anything for you to do; you could go ask Anderson though.” Sherlock answered finally.
“Sorry sir, but which one is he?” John asked.
“Brown hair, brown beard, one of the bigger ones, he’d probably be directing everyone.” Sherlock answered.
“Thank you sir.” John said. Sherlock smiled at him, which made John a little bit uncomfortable, but he made his way out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He looked around for someone that fit Anderson’s description, and he found that he was quite easy to spot. As Sherlock had said, he was directing a team of men that were repairing a sail, barking orders at them from the ground.
“Excuse me sir?” John asked nervously. He didn’t know this man, but he doubted that he was very nice. Anderson stopped what he was doing to look down on John, scowling.
“You’re that blacksmith right?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“Yes sir. I was looking for something I could be doing while the gold cools.” John said, getting right to the point.
“Help George over there with the mopping.” Anderson said after a quick sweep of the ship. John followed his gaze to see Greg wrestling to clean out a ratty looking mop.
“Yes sir, thank you sir.” John said quickly, scrambling away to join his new friend.
“Hey John! How come you’re not in the forge thing?” Greg asked, continuing to mop the deck.
“The metal is cooling, thought I should find something to do.” John said simply, picking up a second mop.
“Glad you chose to help me.” Greg said sarcastically. John smiled, hoping Greg knew that he hadn’t exactly chosen to help him. John found quickly that he was rubbish at mopping, the deck only seemed to get wet and the dirt didn’t move. “So, how long do you think it will take for you to finish your little project?” Greg asked.
“I haven’t the faintest, it seems like it wouldn’t take long, but then again I’ll probably mess up and have to start over.”
“How long do you have?” Greg asked.
“Well, Sherlock said it would be a one to two week trip, so I guess I have one to two weeks.” John shrugged.
 “Where are we going?” Greg asked.
“Don’t know, even if I did I doubt that I’d be able to tell you.” John pointed out. Greg sighed, continuing his mopping.
“You must be hungry, having skipped breakfast.” Greg guessed after a period of silence.
“Not really, I’m keeping busy, so it distracts me I guess.” John shrugged.
“Well consider yourself lucky, I’m starved.” Greg said.
“When is lunch?” John asked.
“When we’re all done.” Greg answered with a disappointed sigh, picking up the pace. John looked to the stained glass door, wondering what Sherlock could do all day every day, tucked away in his office.
“Do people here like the Captain?” John asked.
“Mostly, I don’t know about Anderson though, I suspect he wants to take over some day. He’s always making fun of the Captain’s sexuality; I don’t see that there is a problem with it though.” Greg shrugged.
“What does everyone else think?” John asked.
“I haven’t really asked, I’m sure they’re alright with it, although-“
“Not about that, about how he runs the ship.” John interrupted.
“Oh, I think they like it, it’s nice and clean, a lot better than a lot of others.” Greg decided.
“How about you?”
“I respect him a lot; it must be tough work being a captain.” Greg answered. John agreed with that, it would be hard, especially with such a big mission on your shoulders.
“How’s life outside the ship then?” Greg asked.
“It’s boring, I guess. I spent the time learning how to make stuff, sitting on the docks, doing chores.” John shrugged.
“Not much different from here then.”
“But, you know, it was also a lot better there.” John pointed out.
“I can imagine, at least you’ve got friends. Until you showed up I was the only one here other than the Captain under the age of twenty five, but I couldn’t just sit with him during meals could I?”
“I didn’t have any friends back there, no one my age, until Sherlock turned up.”
“What exactly happened?” Greg asked. John blushed again. “Don’t be scared John, I won’t judge you the slightest.”
“Well, I was in the market and he bumped into me, so that’s how we actually met, but he asked about a blacksmith. So of course I led him to the shop, showed him a few things, but he was more interested in what I had made than my father.” John started.
“I bet he was real polite too?” Greg asked.
“Oh yes, my mother was so excited that there was a ‘nice young man’ in town that she let me go out at night with him.”
“Like a date?”
“No, more like a social thing. But we went to a restaurant and stuff, but then he told me to follow him to the docks, so I did of course. And then, well, that happened.” John said, cutting it off where Greg already knew what had happened. There was an awkward pause.
“So how was it?” Greg asked. John turned to look at him with shock, glowing red.
“What!?” John asked, horrified.
“You know, is he a good kisser?” Greg asked. John wanted to go throw himself over board at the moment, what was he supposed to say to that?
“Uh, I guess so.” John said, feeling like he was as red as a tomato. Greg nodded as if that answer satisfied him, going back to his mopping. John turned away from him, not wanting to look him in the face. Once the mopping was finished, which took an awful long time, there was a bell from below deck and, once again, there was a mad storm to the cafeteria. Greg joined the rush, leaving John to pick up after both of them, dumping the dirty water over boards and putting the mops back in the cabinet. After he was done he still didn’t have much of an appetite, but never the less he went down stairs to the cafeteria. It was packed as usual, and this time everyone was eating turkey sandwiches. They didn’t look all that bad, so John waited in line patiently, getting his sandwich and sitting in the corner with Greg.
“So, how bad is it?” he asked Greg, who chewed thoughtfully.
“Not awful.” Greg decided. John took a cautious bite, and, to his surprise, that Greg wasn’t wrong. The sandwich was nothing like he would’ve had at home, very dry, but it wasn’t terrible.
“Are you going back to the forges then?” Greg asked. John nodded, finishing up the last of his sandwich. He hadn’t realized how hungry he had been until he actually had food in front of him.
“Unfortunately.” He sighed.
“Shame, it’s nice to have company when I have to work in these conditions.” Greg shrugged.
“You’ll be fine, I’d trade places any day.”
“No you wouldn’t.” Greg objected.
“True, but I doubt you’d like it in the forge anyway, it’s steaming hot in there, can’t imagine what it will be like now that the sun came up fully.”
“Oh you poor dear.” Greg said sarcastically. John laughed once, it was nice to have a friend here, it took a little bit of the pressure off of him. Once they were done with their meals, Greg said a halfhearted good bye as John climbed the steps to the forges again. He found that, yet again, it was awfully hot in there, and the fire had died, so it would only get worse. John slid on his gloves and saw that the gold had cooled off in the mold. He supposed it was solid enough to pick up, so he decided it was time for a handle. There were wooden pegs and leather in a box, which he supposed would have to do, even though he doubted the gods had wooden handles. He would engrave stuff into the leather later, for effect. He decided that he should get a fire going, although he hated the idea. He lit a match that he found on the mantle, put some wood on, and watched as they went up in flames. He couldn’t help thinking of his peaceful little village, suffering the same fate as the logs. Once he worked the handle onto the blade, which was very hard work since gold was not a metal he was used to, he held the blade over the fire for a little while. Once it started to glow red hot, which was a very threatening sight, he set it on the anvil. He had to be very careful, one touch of that soon to be blade and he’s get horrible burns. He picked up the hammer and started pounding the sides together, flipping occasionally, doing his best to make it as sharp as possible. The room was getting unbearably hot and stuffy, soon he felt like he would sweat away his entire water supply. He decided against cracking the door open, he didn’t want the other men to see what he was doing, and he supposed the windows didn’t open, so, as a last resort, he just decided to work shirtless. That was a common thing in his house hold forge, but this was a strange place, with people he wasn’t completely comfortable around. But there was no other option, and even that didn’t make much of a difference, but it did help a bit. John kept pounding away, and the side he was working on was starting to look a little bit sharper. He needed it to be wicked sharp though, able to cut through some ancient sky god apparently. Occasionally he had to heat the blade up more, which was when he was thankful for the newly installed handle. John lost track of time, all he knew was that the blade was looking better a better, a little bit of engraving and it would look pretty convincing. There was a small knock on the door, which made John stop what he was doing and look at it.
“Come in.” he decided. The door opened and Sherlock walked in, making John turn deep red.
“Oh, um,” Sherlock’s eyes lingered for a moment on John’s bare chest, but then snapped right back to his eyes as if nothing had happened. “It’s seven o’clock, thought you ought to give it a break for the night and maybe eat something.” Sherlock said, his words stumbling over each other. John could see a slight flush in his cheeks, which made John blush even more.
“Oh, sorry, I guess I lost track of time.” John decided, putting the hammer down on the floor. Sherlock walked over to him, which made John step back a step. But Sherlock looked at the scythe, which was still glowing faintly.
“Careful!” John said loudly as Sherlock extended his hands to pick it up. “It’s still hot.” John added. Sherlock nodded, picking it up one handed by the handle. He examined it, turning it in his hand, admiring the blade from all angles.
“Beautiful. This should work perfectly.” Sherlock decided.
“I hope so, it’s a burden to make, I’ve never worked with gold.” John admitted.
“Well, there’s a first for everything.” Sherlock agreed. John nodded in agreement. “You’re a very talented blacksmith John, you’ve got a future.” He looked John in the eyes again, and this time John felt like it would be very rude to look away. Instead he just smiled and tried to bring the attention back to the scythe.
“How long do I stay here then?” John asked.
“After we get the real one I suppose, you never know if this one will break or something.” Sherlock decided. John sighed; he only wanted to go home.
“Do I have to go on your little adventure too?” he asked sarcastically. Sherlock, who had been looking at the sword, again, looked at John with a bit of amusement.
“Manners Mr. Watson, we talked about this.” He pointed out.
“Sorry sir.” John said immediately.
“And yes, it would be nice to have your company, he need as many men as we can. Are you able to fight?” Sherlock asked.
“Not much, my dad taught me some things, but I wouldn’t stand a chance against any of these guys.” John decided.
“You’ll be trained then, that shouldn’t be too hard.” Sherlock decided. John nodded, wanting to take a step back, to regain a bit of personal space. He never wanted to be too close to Sherlock ever again.
“Good.” John mumbled.
“Don’t get too excited.” Sherlock said sarcastically.
“With all due respect, I’d prefer to be as far away from this ship as possible.” John pointed out.
“I understand John, don’t worry.”
“But you’re the captain, you must love it here.” John objected.
“I didn’t start as a captain though.” Sherlock put the scythe back on the anvil. “What I told you about the pirates wasn’t a lie John, they came to my town, burned it to the ground, killed my entire family, I had managed to hide underneath some rubble, but I had to hear my parent’s screams as they were chopped to pieces. They found me though, after, but instead of killing me they brought me aboard, made me part of the crew.” Sherlock said, his eyes glazing over with the memories. In the firelight he looked like a broken man, his eyes sadder than any eyes John had ever seen.
“Then why did you continue that? Why would you inflict the same pain as they did on other people, like you did to me?” John asked.
“I really didn’t want to kidnap you John, and you must know raids are a rare thing for us. I don’t like it, but we were low on supplies and we can’t just go to town and buy everything we need.” Sherlock shrugged. John sighed, not bothering to mention that Sherlock probably could buy everything he needed with all the money and riches he probably had under the deck. “John, I’m sorry, about everything.” “Well, I guess an apology isn’t nothing.” John decided, walking towards where his shirt lay. But a cold hand on his shoulder stopped him, sending a horrible shiver down his spine.
“Really John, I am, truly sorry.” Sherlock insisted, looking John in the eyes. John looked back, and saw that he meant it; he was very upset about having to retrace his own history. John didn’t know what to say, and he really wanted Sherlock to remove his hand, so he just nodded and picked up his shirt. Sherlock let his hand fall away, looking back at the scythe awkwardly as John pulled on the shirt and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to look somewhat presentable and not completely barbaric.
“I suppose dinner is already over with, they’ll be throwing the anchors down, but I know there would be food saved.” Sherlock assured.
“They saved me food?” John asked in surprise.
“No, of course not, they saved me food, they always do.” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes as if it were the most annoying thing in the world.
“Aren’t you going to eat it?” John asked.
“No, I don’t eat much, and I’m just not very hungry today.” Sherlock shrugged.
“You haven’t eaten all day?” John asked in amazement. Sherlock nodded as if that was obvious information. “What is that, some sort of extreme diet?”
“No, of course not.” Sherlock said, looking at John with confusion. John decided just to give it a rest; Sherlock didn’t have a good reason, so John wasn’t going to pry.
“Where would I find it?” John asked.
“I’ll get it, they get very defensive about their food there, because a lot of people try to steal food around here. They’re like dogs, annoying dogs.” Sherlock sighed.
“That’s a good way to put it, I guess.” John agreed.
“Come on Mr. Watson, we don’t want it to be cold.” Sherlock pointed out, walking out the door and leading John down the steps. The men, as Sherlock had said, were putting down the anchor for the night. John was shocked that it had indeed gotten dark out, he had been working so hard he didn’t even notice the change in time. The dining hall, for once, was silent, and one oil lamp was burning in the corner, making it dark and shadowy. There were no people working, but Sherlock just went behind the counter and took a tray out of something that looked like an oven. On the tray, John saw, was a piece of pork, mashed potatoes, and green beans, all arranged neatly. The captain’s food was much nicer looking than anything the crew got, and John doubted a single hair would be discovered.
“Here you are, nice and warm.” Sherlock decided, handing John the tray. John took it thankfully, his stomach rumbling at the sight of the seemingly edible food.
“If anyone thinks that you were stealing then tell them to come talk to me.” Sherlock said with a half-smile. Still John’s heart did a short of flip in his chest, which made him very angry because even though the Captain was attractive he still very much disliked him. John sat down at his normal spot, as if he didn’t want to get yelled at by one of the bigger pirates for trespassing in their seats. To his small disappointment and relief, Sherlock took the seat opposite of him, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his fingertips under his chin. John started eating, not realizing how much the work had taken out of him.
“How do you like it so far?” Sherlock asked, as if still in a bit of a daydream.
“The food?” John asked. Sherlock inhaled sharply, blinking a bit.
“No, not the food, the ship, the pirate’s life.” Sherlock corrected.
“Oh, it’s, different, I guess. I’m never bored.” John shrugged.
“Good.” Sherlock said with a proud smile. “You’ll be reunited with your family as soon as I get united with the scythe.”
“What exactly is the significance of this scythe? I know it was Cronus’s, but other than that.” John asked.
“Well, it costs a fortune, and I believe it can cut through anything you want it to, be that a man, a sword, even a ship, I can only hope for the best.” Sherlock said happily.
“You don’t seem like a murderer.” John guessed.
“I’m not, I defend my territory, and, if possible, I need to protect my will to survive. I don’t consider that murder.” Sherlock objected.
“Your men are.” John said with a little pout.
“I can’t help that.” Sherlock pointed out.
“I know, but it still feels better if I can blame someone.” John admitted.
“Blame Anderson.” Sherlock shrugged. “He probably did half the killing anyway.”
“He’s too scary to hold a grudge with.” John pointed out.
“And I’m not?” Sherlock asked.
“You’re not really the threatening type.”
“You should see me when I’m angry.” Sherlock sighed. “Some men thought that I wasn’t threatening too.”
“Who?” John asked.
“Oh, you wouldn’t know that unless you went and swam the English Channel, they should be down there I presume.” Sherlock shrugged as if it was no big deal. John chuckled a little bit, even though he knew he shouldn’t. “It’s not funny.” Sherlock snapped.
“Sorry sir.” John said quickly, deadening his laughter immediately.
“You’re an odd person John.” Sherlock decided, studying John’s face.
“Um, thanks?” John asked with confusion. He didn’t point out that he actually ate.
“I don’t know if that was a complement.” Sherlock decided. His answers were as straight as he was. John tried not to laugh at his own joke, it seemed a bit disrespectful. He silently finished his food, which was by far the best he had eaten on this ship, which was no wonder, since it was meant for the captain and not the blacksmith.
“What should I do with this then?” John asked, looking at his empty plate.
“Just leave it there, they’ll get it tomorrow.” Sherlock shrugged, getting to his feet. John followed suit, walking up the stairs behind him and pausing on the deck.
‘Good night Mr. Watson, I’d expect to see you in the morning.” Sherlock decided.
“Good night sir.” John agreed. Sherlock walked back through the deck and into the captain’s quarters, leaving John to stand on the deck and watch the other men finish up the night duties. When Anderson gave to okay, they were all allowed to go down stairs to bed, which John found as a great relief. Now that he had eaten he noticed just how tired his arms were from swinging that hammer all day. He climbed into his bunk a little bit before all of the others arrived, Greg bringing up the rear, yawning like a dog.
“Hello again John.” He said, mid-yawn. “I didn’t see you at dinner, how come?” he asked.
“Oh, I lost track of time, sorry.” John said truthfully.
“I imagine it’s going good then?” Greg asked.
“I think so yes, Sherlock said it was perfect, so I guess I’m on the right path.” John decided.
“Ya, I saw you coming up the stairs with the captain, if I’m correct the forges aren’t down there…” Greg said, raising his eyebrows at John. It took John a moment to figure out what he was implying, but he immediately recoiled in disgust.
“Um, no, no, I had missed dinner, so he let me have the food that they kept for him.” John explained quickly. Greg laughed slightly, climbing into his bunk.
“Don’t worry mate, I knew nothing happened, not yet at least.” Greg laughed.
“That was one time Greg, and I’d never, ever kiss his again, he’s a heartless traitor.” John decided.
“I’ll make a note you said that.” Greg decided.
“Lights out!” called a threatening voice, which must have been Anderson. All of the lights went out immediately, and John set his head on his pillow less mattress, shivering once again. He should’ve asked Sherlock for a blanket and pillow, but for now he’d have to suffer through another night.