Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own anything.
Sherlock stood on the dock looking out at the water. He was on vacation and staying at his family condo. It was a small thing and people were everywhere but no one recognized him and no one knew him. People didn't stare at him, glare at him, call him names or throw things. It was nice to be anonymous. Back in London people recognized him. He was the person that put people in jail. He was the man with the answers. He was the guy with no emotions. Sherlock sighed, he felt a weight lift from him, nothing was expected of him here. He turned around and was about to go back inside. The three bedroom two bathroom condo was waiting for him, all its lights off, darkness ready to engulf him. He was about to go inside when the neighboring house caught his eye. The light in the second story was on and there was a man standing there. He had a shiner on his eye and a cut on his lip. A curious man, he looked short to Sherlock's trained eyes. Blond hair, rugged, and tan, he looked like a military man. Sherlock had been hit on by just about every girl he crossed paths with in America but that wasn't his style. Sherlock never thought about if he was gay or straight, he considered himself married to his work mostly because he never found anyone interesting. Everyone was boring, dull, like rocks but this man in the window, he was different. He was a diamond in the rough; Sherlock could see something special under the rough exterior. Sherlock was sure that if this was what love felt like then he wanted more. He had always had trouble feeling emotions the way normal people did. He had been taught what was supposed to make him happy, what was supposed to make him sad. He had no trouble feeling anger but trust and love were things he had to learn. Smiling, frowning, crying and laughing were things that he had to be taught how to do and when each was appropriate. Sherlock stood there for a moment longer watching the man, his blond hair looked like a halo on his head the way it shone with the light on it. His scarred chest looked more tone with the shadows playing on his muscles. Sherlock felt warm and for once, happy. He didn't have to pretend, didn't have to fake it. He was happy and he needed to find out more about the man in the window. He watched as a girl came up and stood next to him. She was wearing a baggy button up shirt she slipped her hand into his and he looked at her as if just noticing her presence. She smiled wistfully and he looked back out the window. He was looking around aimlessly when his eyes landed on Sherlock. He felt both fear and excitement fill him, this man, so perfect, was noticing him however, what if he found fault? What if he saw the broken person that Sherlock really was? He felt his face flush and his hands get clammy. The man let his eyes stay on Sherlock for a moment, as if studying him. Sherlock felt itchy under the hard gaze, something new. Sherlock saw the girl tug on his hand lightly and he turned his attention back to her. Sherlock decided that she was a slut and he hated her. They said something to each other before she walked away leaving the man alone in the window. Sherlock, being a learned man, could read their lips. 'Come back to bed.' She said. 'Not now.' He responded. His eyes looked back to Sherlock with curiosity. Sherlock twisted his lips in the way he was taught to smile. He raised a hand to wave at him shyly. The man in the window frowned at him and Sherlock decided that he must have done something wrong. He quickly put his hand down. The man in the window turned around and walked away from the window. Soon after the light went off Sherlock went into his condo a few doors down.
The next morning Sherlock woke up with a plan. He would find out more about the man from the window. He went outside and stood on the end of the pier and was debating on checking his crab trap and going for a swim when he heard a door open. He turned and saw the man from the window step outside onto the back porch. The man was shirtless and wearing shorts. He was barefoot and his hair was tousled. Sherlock quickly turned away before the man caught him staring. Sherlock was wearing a tee shirt and pants. He began hauling up the crab trap and was having trouble so he figured he must have caught something. He pulled and tugged and was having a great deal of trouble until he felt someone behind him. He quickly let go of the rope and turned around. He was chest to bare chest with the man from the window. He gasped at the brilliant eyes. They looked brown and blue and green all at the same time and Sherlock found gazing into his eyes hypnotizing. He had a careful expression, military most definitely. His hair was tousled and blond but short cut adding to the deduction of a military background. The man leaned in and grabbed the rope. He began pulling it up, not seeming to have any trouble with it. He hauled it onto the dock between them and surveyed the contents. There were about six blue crabs in it, a good haul. Sherlock knew that a good haul and that meant joy. He smiled at the man.
"Thank you. Would you like any?" He offered. It was his way of returning the favor of hauling up the crab trap.
"No thanks. I can just buy them from the store. They seem very popular around here." He responded with a British accent that matched Sherlock's.
"My name's Sherlock." Sherlock said offering his hand as he had been taught. The hand shake is customary when you introduce yourself to a new person.
"John." He responded as he took Sherlock's hand.
"Want to help me get them into a pot?" Sherlock asked as he let go of John's hand a bit begrudgingly.
"Sure." John said casually. "I'll wait here while you go get one." He said brining to attention the fact that Sherlock had forgotten to bring one. Sherlock internally kicked himself as he grinned at John. He scurried off to his condo and grabbed a pot. He hurried back to John who was looking at the crabs curiously.
"If you don't want one maybe your girl does." Sherlock offered again.
"My girl?" John asked befuddled.
"The one I saw you with last night." Sherlock said as he began untying one of the sides of the trap.
"Bit of a stalker, aren't you?" John asked with a smirk as he helped Sherlock tip the trap so the crabs fell into the pot.
"Perhaps." Sherlock said with a smile. When the crab trap was empty he tied it back up and threw it back into the water. He picked up the pot and held it out to John. "So one for your girl?"
"No she's gone." John responded. Sherlock felt his insides flop with joy and then, to make it better, John took that moment to look up at Sherlock. His mesmerizing eyes were enough to make his legs turn to jelly. Sherlock sputtered and brushed past him. He went into his condo and shut the door after himself. He put the crab pot down and went back to sneak a look out the window. John stood there for a moment longer before turning to his condo. Sherlock watched as John's shoulders slumped and then he saw a girl in short shorts run out to him. She was wearing a tank top and short shorts. She stopped in front of John with her back to Sherlock. Sherlock read John's lips. 'What now?' He looked frustrated. 'Leave me the fuck alone Harry.' John said pushing past her and going back to the house. Harry, Sherlock made a mental note, needed to be dealt with. She was the girl from last night, and as she turned back around to follow John to the condo he caught sight of her face. She had blond hair and tanned skin. Her eyes were grey and looked angry and wild.
Sherlock had cooked the crabs and then put them in a big brown paper bag. He left them in the fridge to eat later and went back out to his dock. He was about to dive in when he once again felt a presence behind him. He turned around and found John once again standing there watching him. He was wearing a shirt and shorts this time. Sherlock was wearing only shorts and his milky skin looked even paler in the sunlight. His black hair curled and shone in the light.
"Now who's the stalker." Sherlock quipped as he let a smile cross his face. John was about to respond but before he could Sherlock jumped into the water. He came back up and looked at John who was standing there looking completely flabbergasted. He went back under and came up pushing his hair out of his face.
"How's the water?" John asked as he peeled off his shirt.
"A bit cold." Sherlock answered honestly. John smiled and jumped in after him. He came up and turned a smiling face on Sherlock.
"Yeah, a bit chilly for my taste." John said as he tread water next to Sherlock. "Race you to the island." He said with a grin. Sherlock looked at him incredulously before turning to the island. It was at least a mile and Sherlock was a generally wimpy guy when it came to athletics. He looked back at John who seemed so happy that he just couldn't turn it down. He gave a small nod before they both shot towards the island. Sherlock was just trying to keep up with John but not trying to win. He knew John would win and if he pushed himself too hard he would have an asthma attack and drown. He was just trying to keep up with John. He was trying to keep up too hard and he felt himself start to lose oxygen. He couldn't catch his breath but he had to keep moving. He had to tread water or die. He had to keep going but how could he if he couldn't breathe? He just had to focus, had do keep moving, had to breath. Sherlock felt his lungs burn and his vision blur. He felt his limbs lock and felt his body start to sink. He felt his mouth fill with salty water as he tried to scream but only silence surrounded him. He shut his eyes; at least he had found happiness before he died. He felt darkness engulf him and he wasn't sure if he was imagining it, if he was being hauled to someplace for the 'afterlife.' He felt an arm around him and the sensation of being lifted. He felt someone next to his limp body before he felt himself leave it.
Sherlock woke to the sensation of sand under him. He felt the sun shining down on him and someone's hand on his hand. Pulse, Sherlock's pulse was being checked. His eyes opened and he saw a clear blue sky. Sherlock snatched his wrist away and sat up.
"I couldn't find your pulse." John said with a worried expression.
"I'm alive?" Sherlock asked.
"Medically or physically?" John remarked ruefully.
"Where am I?"
"The island we were racing to."
"Why did you come back for me?" Sherlock asked causing John to look at him confused.
"You were drowning." John said incredulously.
"You were winning." Sherlock responded.
"You're a fool if you think winning is more important than your life." John responded tartly. Sherlock was silent. "Why did you do that?" He asked trying to sound more understanding.
"Do what?" Sherlock asked honestly innocent.
"Well if you know you have asthma then why did you over exert yourself?" John asked.
"I was just trying to keep up." Sherlock said bitterly. "I've never been the most athletic." There was a long silence.
"I would have taken you up on your offer for a crab but honestly, I don't know how to eat them." John said changing the subject ruefully.
"If you had said that I would have been able to help." Sherlock said casually. He looked at John who was sitting on the sand next to him. His hair was dripping wet and plastered to his head. Sherlock wanted to run his hands down John's bare chest. He wanted to feel the scars under his fingers and wanted to run John's hair through his hand. Nothing in his 'humanity training' had prepared him for this. He didn't know what was too far.
"How are you feeling?" John asked looking Sherlock up and down.
"It's funny that you ask." Sherlock said standing up and stretching. He looked back to the dock and saw a man standing there leaning on an umbrella. Sherlock sighed; he wished John had let him drown. "Race you back?" Sherlock asked looking down at John who was still sitting there.
"No but we can swim back together at a calm pace." John said with a small smile before standing up and stretching. "You seem tense."
"There's someone I would very much like to avoid on my pier." Sherlock said looking at John who squinted in the sunlight. He was looking at the umbrella man curiously.
"Well we can stay here then." John said turning around. There was some grass but it was mostly sand. Sherlock looked at him incredulously.
"You'd stay here with me?" He asked.
"Well I don't want you to kill yourself. You don't seem like the best survivor so leaving you alone on an island would probably be a bad idea." John said.
"Ok." Sherlock accepted the answer. They went into the grass and lay down next to each other staring up at the sky.
"Who is he?" John asked after a while.
"Mycroft. My brother." Sherlock said bitterly.
"Sibling trouble. I can understand trying to avoid that." John said equally bitter. "That girl you saw me with, her name is Harriet. My sister." John informed a very relieved Sherlock.
"What's wrong with her?" Sherlock asked, not realizing how it sounded.
"You mean why am I trying to avoid her?" John asked. Sherlock nodded, rustling the grass around them. "My drug addict, thief, alcoholic, sociopathic little sister? I can't think of a reason not to want to avoid her." John said harshly. He sat up and looked around slowly. His eyes roamed over the water, Mycroft, the grass, and then landed on Sherlock. "Why are you avoiding your brother?"
"He's the British government and likes to keep tabs on me." Sherlock said, realizing how idiotic it sounded compared to John's sister. Sherlock liked being watched by John and John seemed to have no intention of looking away.
"What's with the umbrella?" John asked after a long pause as he looked over to Mycroft.
"Dad gave it to him when he was nine. He got an umbrella, I got a skull. Then dad left." Sherlock said reminiscing. He looked up at the sky remembering that terrible day that he let define his life for a long time.
"That's so...I'm sorry." John said turning back to Sherlock. He moved slowly, lying down next to Sherlock shoulder to shoulder and then even more slowly, slipped his hand into Sherlock's.
"It was a long time ago." Sherlock said sitting up and dropping John's hand. "I think we should be heading back." Sherlock said getting up and stretching.
"Sherlock-" John began but the raven haired man was already in the water moving calmly towards the pier. When they got back John didn't get up for a moment.
"Sherlock." Mycroft said. "I sent you to America to get you away from drama. You can't just jump on any bloke you encounter." Mycroft said. "What would mother say?"
"I don't care what mother says!" Sherlock roared. John heard feet pounding on the wood. "And I didn't jump on him!" Sherlock yelled as a door slammed. John figured it was time to climb up so he scrambled onto the pier.
"Hello." Mycroft said as he watched John climb up coolly.
"Hi." John said slowly.
"I can tell by your accent that you're British. You think you can get into Sherlock's money though his pants? Well you can't. Stay away from my brother, he's not for you." Mycroft said before turning around and walking to the condo Sherlock had stormed to.
"My name's John by the way." John called after him.
"I know. John Watson. If you do not stay away from Sherlock I will make life very hard for you." Mycroft said shooting a cool look at John before disappearing in the condo. Saying not to be in a relationship to Sherlock was a sure bet that he would do the exact opposite. John, naturally, wanted to learn more about Sherlock. He wanted to know why his brother was such a prick. This was only the beginning.