Inspired by Taylor Swift's 'Mine' *infinite heart eyes*
We decide to walk down to the beach just as the sun is about to dip under the horizon. We wrap our deflated beach ball, flippers, books and flashlights in John's towel and I sling my laptop bag over my bare torso, my own towel thrown over my shoulder.
Tonight is our penultimate night away from Baker Street, the penultimate night of our honeymoon. Our wedding was just over two and a half weeks ago and we had managed to escape to a hotel in Paris. John shut off the reply section of his blog to prevent anyone contacting us for cases and I had instructed our limited number of friends to refrain from disturbing us.
For three weeks we've been alone. For three weeks it's been only Mr and Dr Watson. And it's been the best three weeks of my life.
I look over at John, smiling gently. His sunglasses sit atop his head, even though the sun will disappear in precisely four minutes and twenty seven seconds. He's only wearing his navy blue swimming trunks, leaving his muscle-clad top half bare. His hair is sticking up, waving softly as the slight wind threads its fingers through the soft and silky strands. His towel bundle is flung over his shoulder.
We walk down the pebbled path, and even though I'm in my flip flops I can feel the stones digging into the soles of my feet. I grip John's hand tighter to keep my balance as the stones on the path decide to become more uneven. He tilts his head at me, silently asking if I'm okay. I give him an encouraging smile as we reach the beginning of the sand.
'I'm fine, John,' I tell him, kicking my flip flops off and digging my toes into the sand.
The sensation is pleasantly different from the hard, almost prickly feeling of the path. I spread my towel there and then, flopping down and outstretching my legs.
John laughs. 'Here?' he asks with a light joking tone to his voice.
'Yeah. Don't want to go too near the water,' I tell him serenely.
He doesn't reply, instead kneeling and unwrapping the towels. He lays everything by my feet and then spreads his own towel next to mine.
I lean back onto my hands, looking just above the sea. I'm not going anywhere near that stretch of water. I'm not going to look at it.
Last time I did, I almost drowned.
I was five years old when my father was teaching me to swim in the sea, not far from London itself. I'd been taken to the sea by my parents after they discovered my love for baths and swimming pools. Dad had let go for two seconds and instantly I was plunged under (my body wasn't able to hold my weight in the water). And it was cold. Ice cold water filled my lungs and nostrils, ironically setting them and my eyes on fire. I scrabbled around for something to hold onto, and it was just my luck when I found nothing but the slippery surface of the liquid. My arms and legs went limp, doing nothing to support me any longer. It only took five seconds for my father to realise. He dived under, grabbing me by the waist, pulling me up. I breathed in a huge puff of air, coughing and spluttering.
I've been absolutely petrified of water ever since.
'Hey,' I hear a voice whisper in my ear, stirring me out of my muse. John's fingers entwine with mine, squeezing lightly. 'Look up at the skyline,' he tells me.
I do as he says and my mouth hangs open in sheer awe.
The buildings stand tall into the sky, the raven black a somewhat soft contrast to the deep navy. Yellow lights shine out through the windows, dotted as if they are stars. The tops of some of the taller, rounded buildings are illuminated a pearl white, like several moons hung in the air.
'It looks beautiful,' I breathe out gently, afraid that if I make any sudden move, I'll scare off such a fragile sight.
John rests his head on my shoulder. 'It does. And the reflection on the surface of the ocean makes it look even more so.'
He doesn't notice me wince, or if he does, he keeps quiet about it.
We sit in silence for a while, our fingers interlocked. Suddenly John shuffles closer to me. 'How long are we planning on staying out here, love?' he asks.
'As long as you like, my dear John,' I reply, untangling our hands to wrap my arm around his shoulders.
'Sherlock, sweetheart, can I ask you to do something for me?' he asks gently.
'Hm?' I answer.
'By the time we get back to our hotel room, I want you to be able to at least look at the water without panicking. Yes?'
I stiffen. 'But... But... I can't!'
John reaches across our bodies and grips my hand. 'Shh, I'm not asking you to get in the water. We'll just look at the reflection of the skyline together, okay?'
I force myself to breathe in and out slowly. John says I can just look. I don't have to get wet.
He lets go of my hand and turns my face to meet his eyes. 'You can do this, Sherlock. I believe in you.'
'Thank you, John,' I whisper, leaning into his touch.
He beams, and presses his lips to mine as he buries his hand in the curls at the back of my head.
When we part, his eyes are shining. 'Ready?' he asks.
'Uh-huh,' I reply nervously.
I know it shouldn't be such a big deal. It's just water, Sherlock. But it hurt. My eyes burned for three days afterwards. I had breathing problems for two weeks. My body felt so heavy and I thought I was going to die.
John smiles encouragingly at me and slowly, almost painfully, I tear my eyes away from his to look at the at the ocean.
But, as a form of habit, my eyes drift just above the water. I take in a breath and force them downwards.
And what I see there renders me speechless.
The waves are softly crashing against the shore, and the reflection of the skyline is indeed visible. The lines are no longer distinct and solid but rather distorted and fazed, thus creating a softer, sweeter look. It puts the actual skyline to absolute shame.
'You like it?' John asks in a murmur.
'It's gorgeous,' I tell him, not removing my gaze from the sight before me.
John laughs slightly and puts his head back on my shoulder. 'Just like you,' is what I hear next. I smile shyly as I accept his compliment.
I rest my head on his as we sit there, watching the city lights on the water. And because of John, I start to believe. Believe that for the first time, I can begin to bring back my love for the water.