Originally posted at AO3 and Livejournal August 4th, 2016
Alternate Postings: AO3, Livejournal, Dreamwidth
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #29: Arr! Arr! ARRR! Arr! Arr! Ships, pirates, water, messing about with boats. Title from Tom Smith's "Talk Like a Pirate Day" anthem, just because.
Summary: Mycroft did tell him about Sherlock's childhood career plans, but John hadn't quite reconciled the image with his mad flatmate, until now.
When Timbers are Shivered and Lillies are Livered
"So. You really wanted to be a pirate?" John said, kneeling on the downed felon, brushing ice chips off himself as he looked up at Sherlock.
In the center of the cruise ship ballroom, Sherlock swung from a low-hanging chandelier after having kicked the felonious Third Officer into an ice sculpture swan. The swan had subsequently shattered all over the assembled hostages (and John, who'd simultaneously been taking the less airborne route of sneaking up behind the crazed gunman and whacking him on the head with a shuffleboard cue.)
Regardless, the man was down with no shots fired, but this way had provided the added unforgettable bonus of watching Sherlock Holmes launch himself from the upper ballroom balcony onto a chandelier with a USB drive containing the records of the Third Officer's nefarious deeds clenched between his teeth like a boarding knife. The grin had been terrifyingly incandescent.
Suddenly John had no trouble at all imagining a pirate-hatted young Sherlock, waving a cardboard cutlass and demanding Mycroft walk the plank.
Sherlock slid down a dangling wire from the over-taxed chandelier, landed with a thump on the head table and pulled the USB drive from between his teeth. "What was that, John?" he asked, eyes glinting, cheeks slightly pinkened.
"Nothing." John shook his head and hid a smirk. "Just, it had to be seen to be believed."
-.-.-
(that's it)