Trust Issues

Scythes, Secrets, and Ships

“Get up or you don’t get breakfast!” Anderson yelled. John thought that wasn’t a very good wake up call, but never the less he rolled out of bed and got shakily to his feet, wishing he had a change of clean clothes, or at least a shower. He felt disgusting; yesterday’s sweat probably still sitting on his brow. He supposed that, instead of morning duties, he could have a shower, but he had no idea where the showers even were.
“John you really need to find a pillow somewhere.” Greg decided, looking up to John’s bunk.
“I’ll figure that out later. Where are the showers?” John asked.
“Down the hall, two doors down.” Greg answered.
“Do you think it’s alright for me to go, I don’t think there is anything I should be doing at the moment.” John guessed.
“You’re fine; I doubt they’d notice that you’re missing anyway.” Greg assured. John decided not to ask if there were any changes of clothes, after looking at all of the other pirate’s outfits, he seriously doubted it.
“Thanks.” John added, walking out the door with the rest of the men. Instead of walking up the steps though, John headed to the showers where Greg had instructed. The entire room was only shabby wooden slabs separating the different showers, thin curtains that didn’t reach the only thing covering it up. John was happy there were no other people in here, because that would make him very uncomfortable. As he expected, the water wasn’t fresh at all, it seemed like it was only ocean water that had been run through a strainer or something, but it was still a great feeling to wash off all of the dirt and sweat that had accumulated over the past two days. When John was done he dried off and put the same clothes he had on before, which was a bit disappointing since he was clean now, but he still felt a lot better than he had when he woke up. Drying off his hair, he walked out of the bathroom, hanging the towel on a rack where he supposed it would be picked up and washed. Considering it was a pirate ship though, the chances of that happening seemed slim. John wondered why, if the captain had so much money and gold, that he didn’t bother upgrading the living conditions a bit more. But he had no right to complain, he hopefully wouldn’t be here for long. When he got above deck the pirates were still working their morning duties, whatever they happened to be. Sherlock,  once again, was barking orders at them from the top deck, all while steering the ship as it started moving again. John looked overboard, seeing a small island town to the right of the ship. He cursed, remembering his sort of plan to jump off the ship and escape there. That seemed to work out great. John didn’t know what to do, but he saw Greg organizing some anchors and ropes near the back of the ship, so John took that as an opportunity to look like he was at least going something more than standing around.
“Hey.” John muttered.
“Hello. How was the shower?” Greg asked.
“It’s sea water isn’t it?” John asked.
“Sorry to disappoint, but there isn’t exactly great plumbing on this thing.” Greg pointed out, heaving an anchor to sit against the wall.
“I guess everything can’t be sanitary.” John shrugged.
“If you’ve got a problem talk to the captain not me.” Greg shrugged.
“I’d prefer not to complain to him.” John decided.
“Kind of the point, at least it’s not Anderson though.”
“He kind of runs the show here doesn’t he?” John asked.
“Unfortunately.” Greg sighed. 
“Pretty scary dude.” John decided, looking over to wear Anderson was yelling at two men who had apparently done something wrong. They looked terrified, like they wanted to run and hide in a corner.
“How come Sherlock doesn’t just come out and direct people?” John asked.
“He’s a little busy at the moment.” Greg pointed out. Sherlock didn’t look too busy, all he was doing was steering, but John supposed that wasn’t too easy. “How come you call him Sherlock, why not captain?” Greg asked.
“I have no clue, I guess it’s just because that’s what I first knew him as.” John shrugged. Greg smiled sadly, as if he felt bad for John, but went back to whatever he was doing. For coming over to help, John was doing an awful lot of nothing, but he decided there really wasn’t much to do.
“Breakfast should be coming soon; I bet you’ll be first in line.” Greg guessed.
“Maybe if I pretend to miss it I could get Sherlock’s food, it’s always a lot better.” John said hopefully.
“Good luck with that.” Greg laughed.
“Have you ever seen him eat?” John asked.
“Never.” Greg said with a small smile.
“He’s going to die from malnutrition.” John guessed.
“I’ve been here, what, a year or so, and he seems fine.” Greg pointed out. John shrugged, figuring that he had a point. There was a bell rung from downstairs again, and, as usual, there was a rush for the first spots in line. It was quite pathetic actually, the food wasn’t that good. Greg and John walked a little bit more calmly, John casting one last look to Sherlock, just to see if he was going to make any moves to eat or not, but he stayed where he was, staring into the ocean. They made their way into the gloom below deck, following the noise to the cafeteria. This time it seemed to be pancakes, and John noticed that it was practically a bloodbath for the syrup bottle. They waited in line patiently, receiving three pancakes each and sitting in their normal spots.
“How’d you get here then?” John asked after a while of silence.
“I joined actually; I always wanted to be a pirate, so here I am. It wasn’t difficult finding a ship, it was just getting excepted.”
“Are you happy with this one?” John asked.
“I’d say so, ya.” Greg agreed.
“I imagine half of these people were kidnapped though?”
“Actually no, I don’t think that’s really the captain’s style.” Greg decided. John snorted with disapproval. “As in crew members, not blacksmiths, he probably asked you first right?” Greg added. John thought about it.
“Ya, actually he did. He asked me if I could go anywhere in the world and do anything if I would do it, a bit of subtext in there I guess.” John shrugged.
“What did you say?”
“I said I wouldn’t go without my family. And look how that turned out.” John sighed.
“It’s not so bad. After a while they all feel like a bunch of stupid brothers who ignore you all the time.” Greg shrugged, looking to the end of the table at the men. Now that some had finished their dinner they were now entertaining themselves with arm wrestling. Anderson was winning every match, which was no surprise.
“I guess I should get going, I’ll see you at lunch I suppose.” John shrugged.
“Will you be out on deck again?” Greg asked semi-hopefully.
“I doubt it. I’m almost done though, I just have to shape the other side, sharpen it, and engrave and we should be good.” John said.
“So it is a sword then!” Greg said triumphantly.
“No.” John said quickly.
“You said sharpen.”
“There are, you know, sharp, plates, sometimes. It could be a plate.” John said, slightly panicking.
“You’re a terrible liar John.” Greg laughed. John got up from the table, glaring at Greg jokingly and walking back up the steps. He noticed that Sherlock had once again disappeared into his quarters and the ship was floating on open waters. John wondered where exactly they were going, but he decided it didn’t really mater anyway. He was stuck with them whether they were going to paradise or hell. He slipped into the forges, seeing that everything was once again how he had left them. He reluctantly lit a fire, but since it was still morning it wasn’t nearly as hot as it had been previously. John put the gloves on, heated up the blade for a little bit, and continued pounding the sides. It took maybe three and a half hours until John finally pounded both of the sides together, and it now looked like a dull sword, which was an accomplishment. He looked around for a sharpener, which was in the corner, but he supposed sharping a scythe instead of a regular sword would be a bit different. Once the scythe had cooled to the point where he could touch it without pain, he picked it up and brought it over to the sharpener, which was basically a stone spinning wheel sort of thing. His prediction had been correct, sharpening a scythe was a lot more difficult, he had to tilt the blade this way and that, stopping to make sure he didn’t chop the top off. He wondered how Cronus had sharpened it all those years ago, but then again, he bet he just zapped it with magical powers or what not. As John was working there was suddenly a loud bell, which sounded like the lunch bell, which made him very relieved, he was about ready for a break. But the bell continued, a lot louder and more frantic, and unless the lunch was extremely good than John doubted it was for food. Before he could react, the door flung open and Greg was there, looking frantic.
“John, come on, below deck, a ship’s been spotted!” he called. John immediately put the scythe down, noticing that Greg was eyeing it with interest. He was about to follow Greg when Sherlock appeared behind him.
“Thank you Mr. Lestrade, please follow your crew mates below deck.” Sherlock said quickly.
“Yes sir.” Greg said, scrambling out of the way. John looked at Sherlock frantically, not knowing what to do or how to handle a possible attack.
“Get the scythe, wrap it in something.” Sherlock demanded. John looked around the room, spotting a large cleaning cloth or something and wrapping the weapon in it carefully. “Give it here.” Sherlock said, holding out his hands. John handed Sherlock the scythe and the captain tucked it into the pocket of his trench coat, looking around the empty deck.
“What’s going on?” John asked.
“We’ve spotted a ship, potential enemy; it’s the British we think.” Sherlock answered. John took a deep breath. He didn’t want to be arrested, and he doubted the British would care if he was kidnapped or not.
“Will they attack?” John asked nervously.
“I hope not, maybe they’re a merchant, but either way we have to be cautious.” Sherlock answered. “Now get below deck!” he added, moving out of the way for John to leave.
“What about you?” John asked.
“I’ve got to steer the ship, get us out of here.” Sherlock said simply. John sighed, wishing Sherlock wouldn’t put himself in the firing line like that, but he nodded and went below deck like he was told. The men were now lined up, receiving weapons that they didn’t have themselves. John noticed Greg in the bunks, cleaning out a rifle like it was as normal as washing the dishes. 
“Blacksmith!” Anderson called, and John immediately looked his way with terror.
“Take this.” He said, handing John a rifle. John took the gun reluctantly, but he had no idea what to do with it, he had never fired one before. He looked at with confusion, but decided to take a crash course with Greg. He joined him on the bunk, handling the gun as if it would go off any moment and making sure not to point it at anyone.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” John asked. Greg looked up form cleaning the barrel, as if just noticing John was there.
“Oh, you kill people with it.” Greg said obviously.
“How?” John asked, looking it over.
“Well, first you’re going to need to load it, aim and pull the trigger. It’s really not that complicated.” Greg shrugged. John saw an odd looking knob on it, so he pulled it. The gun clicked, but that was it.
“Now it’s loaded, make sure the safety is on.” Greg pointed out. John clicked a small little knob that had a rusty safety engraved above it.
“Now all you have to do it line up the little metal things on top over what you want to shoot, and pull the trigger. Remember, aim small miss small.” Greg pointed out.
“Should I be cleaning mine too?” John asked.
“This one’s mine, but all of the ship guns should be clean.” Greg answered, pulling the rod out of the barrel. A strong smell of some type of cleaner stung John’s nose, he wondered how Greg could stand being so close to it.
“Do you think I’ll have to use this?” John asked.
“If they attack then yes, but I don’t think they will.” Greg shrugged.
“Has the ship ever been attacked?” John asked nervously.
“Once or twice, but only by other pirates which were mostly pathetic pirates, easily defeated.” Greg answered.
“Have you ever killed anyone?” John asked.
“Yep.” Greg said easily.
“Is it traumatizing?” John asked.
“A bit, but not as much as you would think. As long as you’re defending yourself I don’t have a problem with it.” Greg decided.
“Sherlock’s up there, steering us away.” John said, looking at the ceiling as if trying to see him.
“Aw, worried about him?” Greg teased.
“Yes, actually, I am, is there a problem with that?” John asked.
“Don’t you hate him?”
“Not as much as I used to.” John decided.
“You don’t even hate him anymore, I can tell.”
“I do to! He’s the bloody reason I’m here, why my town is in shreds.” John pointed out. “It’s not really easy to forgive that.” Greg smirked at him, making John scowl and end the conversation. In reality though, John was worried for Sherlock. As much as he disliked him, there was still a part of him that cared and respected the captain, even though they had a bit of a rough start, John thought that maybe he would be able to trust him.
“Everyone get down!” Sherlock’s voice called from the stairs.
“Alright everyone, bottom bunks, now! Load your weapons, get ready to fight!” Anderson’s voice boomed. John immediately scrambled into Greg’s bottom bunk, holding his rifle as if it was the only thing clinging him to life.
“What does that mean?” he asked with panic.
“Means the ship is approaching, and it might fire.” Greg said simply. John curled into a little ball in the corner of his bunks, scanning the room. He noticed that some of the men were missing, which meant they were probably manning the cannons. All of the pirates seemed rather squished in the bottom bunks, it would’ve been funny to see Anderson hunched over like an old man if John wasn’t terrified. The room was silent, everyone straining their ears to hear even the faintest of explosions. John wasn’t prepared to hear one though, he didn’t want to ship to break, he didn’t want fires or death, he just wanted to get this whole bloody thing over with and go back home.