Captain Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Pirate Ship

I feel the sea water mist gently against my face, as the smell of salt water permeates the air around me. I feel at home. I've been on the sea for a couple of days. My fellow pirates from Scotland Yard gave me a case of missing treasure. The case is... intriguing.

The jewels went missing from their ship in the night. They were in the middle of the ocean and the treasure is nowhere to be found on the ship. I have searched everywhere. I wouldn't trust those daft pirates to search for it themselves, especially Anderson. I never understood why Captain Lestrade recruited him and that Donovan girl; they are clearly idiots that lower the IQ of the entire ship. He is adamant on keeping them however, only Poseidon would know why.

I roll my eyes at the thought and stand up to make my way to the wheel of my ship. Evidence of the stolen treasure points to it being taken to an island just north of here. I reach my destination in a matter of three days.

I reach the island and anchor my ship stepping onto the soft, white sand. I grasp onto my Captain's hat as it threatens to blow away from the harsh winds as my coat billows behind me. I see footprints in my peripheral vision leading into a lush, green forest. The foot prints are male, short. Army by the looks of the pattern the boots made on the sand. I step in quietly, sword drawn.

I can see an clearing in the forest a couple of meters ahead of me, I quiet my steps. A fire looms in the middle with a man dressed in army gear sitting on a log. He has short blonde hair, his army gear is torn and I can see dried blood on the fabric around his left shoulder. He stands up slowly, grabbing a makeshift cane, and begins to hobble over to a rucksack near his hut.

I step out in to the opening, sword still drawn. He jumps in surprise and turns around quickly. His bad leg unable to support him and he tumbles to the ground. He looks terrified. Some part of me pities the man and I place my sword back into my holster.

"Who... who are you?" He asks. Fear shining through his exhausted blue eyes. "You're a bloody pirate!" He adds, after taking in my cliché pirate attire.

I place my hand up in surrender, trying to portray to him that I'm not going to hurt him. He flinches when my hands rise, making me feel horrible for frightening the battered man. Why do I feel pity for him? The army tries to rid the seas of pirates like me. He's an enemy, even though I don't know him personally.

"I'm Captain Sherlock Holmes of the 221B Baker pirate ship." I say, calmly. Confirming his suspicions of me being a pirate. "I am not going to hurt you. You're an army doctor who has been injured and abandoned by your fellow comrades. You're their Captain. They have disgraced you and left you to die. You've been here for a week and you've hardly eaten or drank a thing. Probably due to your psychosomatic limp and the gunshot wound through your left shoulder. You've tried to tend to it, but you lost your medical equipment when your ship crashed and your fellow mates left you. I have equipment to tend to your wounds in my ship. With your guidance, I can mend them."

"How... How did you know all that?" He says, fascination replacing the fear that once shrouded his expression.

"I deduced it." I respond simply, whilst taking off my hat

"Deduced it?" He asks, questioningly.

"Your attire obviously gives you away that you are army. You have a medical patch on your right shoulder. So army doctor is painfully obvious. The patch over your heart says Captain, but the rest of the stitching is missing. Now why would you be on a deserted island alone? Your ship crashed, either your fellow comrades died or they left you here. Based on the anger line the have built themselves a home on your face recently, they deserted you and you're furious. You look emaciated and dehydrated, but this is recent so you couldn't have been here for more than a week. You have dried blood on your left shoulder with a bullet hole through the centre, you don't move that arm at all. So, the injury is fairly recent, probably happened when your comrades left you. Nooo, they were the one that shot you. How did I know your limp is psychosomatic? It was a guess." I finish quickly.

"That was amazing." He says as his eyes widen in surprise, catching me by complete surprise.

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do they normally say?"

"Piss off."

The battered man smiles at me. How odd. He went from fearing for his life to smiling. This makes me smile back, but I quickly drop it. He's still an enemy and they are trained to adapt to numerous circumstances. He can be trying to get on my good side only to stab me in the back. Literally. The man notices my expression drop and he quickly drops his as well. I grab the rope from my belt and walk slowly over to him. His body slumps in resign as he knows what I am about to do.

I grab his hands about to tie them around his back, when he flinches due to his injured shoulder so I tie them in the front. He looks at me surprised; I ignore him before moving on to tie his ankles together before I begin to speak again.

"You and I both know that we are enemies. I can't trust you, nor can I leave you here to rot. I am going to get my medical equipment to tend to your wounds. Then you are coming with me." I say quietly, my face completely vacant of all emotions. He nods in response. "However it would be beneficial if I knew your name." I add.

"John. Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusilier."

"Very well, Captain Watson. I will be back shortly. Don't go anywhere."

"Just call me John and where would I go, Captain Holmes?"

"Sherlock. Call me Sherlock and nowhere I couldn't find you." I say with a slight threat.

"Right. Then I won't go anywhere." He says, I nod in response and make my departure.

I don't know why I'm helping John. Perhaps because he's been abandoned and alone, something I can relate to. There is something else about him though, something I can't put my finger on. I feel like I can trust this man, a man I hardly know. Nevertheless, I will not let that sway me from my duty. He's a Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusilier. Their mission is to rid the seas of pirates like me. I cannot trust him; I will never trust him.

I continue to think about John as I reach my ship. I go below deck and grab my medical equipment. My medical skills are rudimentary, but I grab everything I know will be needed; stitches, needle, gauze, and rum to numb the pain. I turn to leave when I decide to grab some food and water for him. I don't understand why I am doing this, I keep telling myself that he's my enemy and I should just leave him, but I do not and continue grabbing the fruit and water, placing it onto the medical rucksack.

I return half expecting John to have escaped somewhere, but as I make it to the clearing I can see him lying on his right side in the sand. I begin my approach when I hear soft snores coming from him. He's fast asleep; exhaustion has taken its toll on him. I stand there watching John sleep, not sure what to do. It would be best for me to just leave him here with the supplies so he can tend to himself, but I can't make myself go. I remain rooted to the sand. With a sigh and a mental kick to myself, I set the supplies down and drape a blanket gently over him.

I turn to the fire, noticing for the first time that it has all but died down except for a few embers. I build the fire once again and wait for John to wake.

I sit on the log, placing my heads on my hands and start mumbling to myself.

"Dear god, Sherlock you're getting yourself in too deep. You need to leave. Just leave him here. He'll be fine. Just leave." I say quietly to myself, lifting my hands to ruffle my hair agitatedly. I sigh again and look over to John.

I can't leave, no matter how much I know I need to. I simply cannot leave John on this deserted island by himself. A part of me, a part that I am unfamiliar with, feels protective over John. I don't understand these emotions and feelings of sentiment. I must squash them till nothing is left, but as I look over to the sleeping John I can't help but feel my heart lift at the sight. Dear god, what is happening to me?

To be continued...