In a world where pirates roam and dominate the seas and kings and queens solely rule the lands, Great Britain celebrates their prince's 22nd birthday. On the very day of his birthday, Prince John Watson must wed his fiancée Mary Morstan. The day is supposed to be a day of peace, a treaty signed by all, even the pirates themselves. All except for one group of pirates, the Marauders, the Marauders have different motives for today, none involving peace. A wedding ceremony where every single person will attend in Great Britain? It was the perfect opportunity to set out for an invasion. And that was what they did. But, it was because of that invasion that changed the young prince's life forever.
Chapter One
Celebration
A/N:
This story is set around the 1930s.
Long ago, a story – not quite old – began the adventure that has been told over and over again. And it took place here, in Great Britain. Ah, all was silent in Great Britain, too quiet. But of course it'd be since the day was the day of peace and tranquility. The queen's son, Prince John Watson was to be wed. He was the sole heir to the almighty throne. On his birthday, John was going to be king.
But all was not quiet. Not the seas. Sure, the currents were gently caressing the shore, and there wasn't any sort of fish in the water, but there came a disturbance faraway. Near the English Channel, swords clashed on a dark ship, reverberating through the air. Two people were clashing: one man, the other female. The woman had long brown hair that was curled up into a ponytail. She was wearing a black vest, a white double breasted long sleeved blouse underneath it. She had black dress pants on with long, black boots that were up to her knees.
The red headed man was shirtless, wearing dark pants and no shoes. He had an eye patch covering his left eye. He held a long, sharp sword in his hand, swinging it towards the woman's torso but missing. The woman had just enough time to dodge the sword, but in doing so, it gave the man the opportunity to drop her sword to the ground.
The woman looked down at the ground, her first mistake. The man scraped her shoulder, grinning evilly at her in victory. The woman instantly brought her free arm to her shoulder, glaring at the man. When he attempts to stab her, the woman ducked, kicking the man's stomach. The kick brought the man to the floor, groaning as he smashed into the floorboards. The woman marched towards her fallen sword, her second mistake, causing the man to swing his legs around hers and bringing her down with him. She landed on her stomach.
In a flash, the man rose from the ground, sword pointing against the woman's chest. A menacing smirk tugged against his lips. He stared down the woman, tilting his head to the side. "Any last words?" he asked her.
The woman glared at the man, refusing to say a single word to him. Show no fear, she kept telling herself over and over again.
"Yes, I do, actually," a second voice boomed from the ship "What in the hell are you doing on my ship!"
The man turned his head in various directions, keeping his grip firm on his sword. He tried to see where the sound had come from. "Where you are you coward?" he beckoned. "Show yourself!"
The sound of a sword cutting away at something pierced through the skies. In a blink of an eye, a man came swooping down on a rope. Before the red headed man could react, the second man smashed – feet first – against the man's torso, knocking him out of the ship and falling overboard. The raven haired man landed on his feet, letting go of the rope. He kept on opening and closing both of his hands from the burn marks he had just received. He looked down at the woman, offering a faint smile.
"Molly, are you all right?" he asked her.
Molly beamed at him, smiling quickly. She rose to her feet, picking up her sword and sliding it in her sheath. "I'm fine now, captain, thank you," she answered, patting away any dust or dirt off of her pants. "There should be another –"
"Philip!" cried a voice, running towards the edge of the ship where the man had been knocked over. This man looked exactly like Philip, so they must've been related. "What have you done to him?" he barked at the two.
The raven haired man raised a brow, crossing his arms at him. "I merely knocked him overboard," he replied nonchalantly.
The man marched towards the captain, pulling out his sword at him. Molly immediately removed her sword, pointing it at the man.
"Not one more step!" she warned.
"Molly, everything's fine, let me handle him," the captain replied, holding out his hand to stop Molly. "You trespassed onto my ship, my ship, and you dare pull a sword at me! You know the rules clearly, that is if you were a pirate."
"I am a pirate!" the man snapped back.
"Oh, no you're not. Clearly, you're no pirate. You're an amateur, a beginner. You and your brother are raiding ships, stealing gold and treasure," the captain explained. A smile appeared on his lips, as if he finally understood something. "Ah, so that's you. You're both the Night Raiders! Though you two are going bolder, stealing and taking loot in the morning? You know, it probably would've worked if you two were on a different ship. But that was your first mistake, deciding to steal from this ship."
The red headed man stared at the man in surprised. He even lowered his sword out of shock. "How –?"
"No, don't ask me how. I don't have time for idiots. And I have some plans to look after to," the captain replied, dismissively. "No, if that's what you're thinking, I'm not going to kill you. But you're both not going without some sort of punishment. It is the rules after all."
"Who-who the bloody hell are you?" the man spat, cowering from the taller man. He slowly edged his way backwards until he touched the edge of the ship. There was no way out of this unless he jumped. But he wouldn't, that wasn't the way to do it. Jumping would taint their legacy.
The captain stopped advancing towards the man. A wide grin spread across his face as if he was asked for marriage. The captain needed to trim his hair since his curly mops for a hair barely touched his eyes. As for his eyes, they were multi-changing. At a glance, they'd appear green, but after staring for a while, they'd appear blue or gray. The captain didn't look much of a threat, not at all. What made him looked menacing was how tall and gaunt he was. The intensity coming off from his eyes were too unbearable to look at.
"Well, I'm glad you asked," he answered. "The name's Sherlock Holmes."
The red headed man gripped onto the boat at having heard the name. His complexion had paled, and he began to look less threatening by the second. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the man. "You-you're Sherlock Holmes?" he sputtered.
"The very," he replied.
"And-and then, th-this is the –"
"Yes, yes, it is. This is my ship, the Marauder. Welcome aboard to hell, mate," he said. Sherlock, without glancing down, pulled out his sword from his sheath. "Now, either you fight or you die."
"But you said – you said – that I wouldn't –"
"Oh, I guess I wasn't clear on that. Death is your punishment. Fight for your life and you'll possibly survive or die," Sherlock replied, smirking.
The man looked at Sherlock, trembling and looking deeply pathetic. He grabbed his sword, seeing no way out of this. He had to do it; he had to play this man's game. The man charged forwards, sword in hand. Both of their swords clashed.
Two foils clashed into each other, making scraping noises each time they smacked each other. Two people were fighting: a man and a woman. But this wasn't a duel to the deaths, no. This was just a challenge, a match. The man had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He was grinning at the woman as he smoothly diverted his torso away from the woman's reach. The woman, on the other hand, had straw-like hair and brown eyes. She was much smaller than the man, yet they had similar features. Relatives.
"Aha!" said the man. "Any moment now, Harry, and you're going to slip up."
"Oh, don't get so cocky, John. You'll never know if I have some tricks up my sleeves," she replied, poking John's arm.
"Hey! You're not supposed to do that," he countered, moving away from her. "Torso only, you cheat," he replied.
"Well, if we were actually fighting, you'd die," she protested, smirking at him.
"You're the one to say," John replied, laughing as he blocked with his sword.
"Second born, second best," Harry answered.
"Ouch," John said, shaking his head at her.
Harry noticed John had made his left side vulnerable and launched forward. But John was too quick, jabbing Harry's lower torso. Harry gasped, dropping her foil in defeat.
"Not quite sure if that's correct now," John answered.
"I stand corrected," Harry replied, offering John a kind smile. "Though I think you cheated."
"Harry! I clearly won, without cheating if I might add," John said.
Harry chuckled, shaking her head slowly. "All right, all right, you won," Harry admitted, nudging John's arm gently.
Suddenly, the doors burst opened and an older woman strode her way towards them. "There you two are!" she said. "I have been looking everywhere for you two." The woman had light brown hair. Her curls were closer to her head, hair looking wavy. The woman was wearing a bias-cut Augustabernard satin gown. She had pearl earrings to match with the gown. But what stood out was lying against her neck, a necklace, a dangling red gem.
Instantly, John and Harry became quiet, looking at the woman with silent terror. John looked at Harry and she did the same. John finally turned his attention back to the woman and exhaled.
"I-I'm sorry, Queen Ebony," John murmured softly, bowing down.
"Oh, John, enough of that now. You shouldn't be bowing down to me. You are going to be king today," she answered, offering him a kind smile.
John straightened himself once more, smiling at Ebony. "Thank –"
"But how could you two forget what day it is? John today is your coronation and your wedding! We have so much to do today, and we can't do much with you lollygagging. Now, come on, I need to have a serious word with you," she replied, offering her hand to John.
John nodded his head quickly, taking the queen's hand. The queen smiled gently at John, rubbing circles on his hand.
"And you, I'm thoroughly disappointed in you, Harriet. You know better than to fight! It is not a proper way for a lady to act. And are you not wearing your girdle? Go on and get properly dressed!" she scolded, glaring at Harry.
Harry was taken aback before she glared at Ebony. "Yes, Her Majesty. On my way," she growled back, marching towards the door and abandoning the two.
John frowned, looking up at the queen. "Must you be so harsh on her?" he asked softly. "It was my fault, I asked her to join me."
"John, you need not make any excuses for her neglected properness. She needs to learn her place, whether she likes it or not," Ebony replied. "Come now, John, let's take a walk."
John nodded his head silently, following Her Majesty out the door. They walked out and were walking the halls. John's smiled as he saw the architecture and the paintings. A bold and terrific history which they told, John couldn't be any more proud than to be a royal. But deep inside, he couldn't help but feel like a traitor. Why? He shouldn't be feeling this way, but he has and always has been.
"John," Ebony spoke at last, "you're going to be king in a few hours now. You'll be ruling all these people. And as their ruler, they are depending on you to lead them on the correct path."
"Yes, yes, I know already. Why are you telling me this?" he asked her. "I thought I still had you by my side even when I'm king."
"And you will, my child," she replied.
"But, the thing I don't understand is why am I becoming king at this age, now? Why on my birthday?" John questioned.
"John!" Ebony said, raising her voice sharply. John immediately fell silent, clasping his mouth shut. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you. If I am giving you something, it'd be best for you to accept it graciously," she replied.
John heard the way her voice tensed as she spoke, danger filling the air. This wasn't the first time he's experienced this. He hated the feeling as if she was internally attacking him and bending him to her will. He exhaled shakily, nodding his head. "I understand, Queen Ebony, I'm sorry I ever casted doubt," he answered.
In an instant, the tension had lifted. John was able to breathe normally again. Ebony looked at John, giving him that same kind smile again. She was acting as if it had never happened. "Thank you, John."
Once more, the doors burst opened and a pudgy man came inside. "John! Oh, there you are, son!" he exclaimed. "Come on, John, I have to get you fitted. We don't want you to arrive wearing anything falling off of you," he replied jokingly.
John turned to look at Ebony, who nodded in agreement. John returned to glance at the man, smiling at him. "All right, Mike, let's go. Show me the way," he answered.
Mike grasped John's arm, tugging him along.
Sherlock was looking over his crew members, each standing in a straight vertical line. He inspected them to make sure none of them were seriously injured. He couldn't help but chuckle and be giddy from excitement. Once he was done inspecting them, he waved his hand dismissively.
"Oi! Done smiling now, captain?" a woman said in a mocking voice. The woman had black hair and complexion. She was wearing a white blouse and a dark skirt.
Sherlock didn't need to turn around to know who it was. He exhaled, clearly annoyed. "Don't start with me, Sally," he warned.
"No, I am going to start with you. I told you myself to move the ship to a different location, but you didn't listen," she snapped back, poking at his chest accusingly. "And look what happened! We –"
Sherlock rolled his eyes at him, clearly not in the mood to hear her. "Yes, Sally, let's have a look at what just happened! We were invaded and Molly, Lestrade, and I handled the situation perfectly while you and Anderson were –"
"Okay, that's enough!" a man said with brown hair that was dulling to gray.
"Lestrade!" Sally protested. "Have you seen what this man is doing to this crew? He's dangerous. If he keeps up his recklessness, we'll wind up like George!"
"George's death was my fault?" Sherlock questioned. "He died for his captain, not my fault."
"How can you stand there and say that, you heartless freak?! He died saving you!" she cried out.
"From you," Sherlock said gravely, eyeing her angrily.
Sally opened her mouth to protest, but she quickly decided against it. She looked down at the ground, crossing her arms.
Lestrade intervened, placing himself in between the two. "We don't have time for fights, today," Lestrade replied. "Sherlock, you need to sign a document Her Majesty has sent you."
Sherlock stopped glaring at Sally and turned his attention to Lestrade. "What document? Let me read it," he demanded, holding his hand out.
Lestrade sighed silently and handed Sherlock a letter. Sherlock took hold of the envelope, ripping it with a dagger. He took the letter out, tossing the envelope to the ground as if it was never in his hand. Sherlock scanned the letter, eyes moving swiftly. He groaned angrily.
"What? What does it say?" Lestrade asked, peering over Sherlock's shoulder.
"Dear Marauders – they spelled Marauder wrong," Sherlock began. "As you may know, on the seventh of July, it will be Prince John Watson's birthday. Yada, yada, I don't care, peace and tranquility, none of my concern. Oh! We are hereby making the seventh of July a day of peace. All pirates are not to disturb the prince's coronation and wedding in exchange for pirates to roam among our lands without concern of death," Sherlock continued. "If you are willing to agree to these conditions, please sign the document, and you and your crew are able to walk freely, so long as you bring the document as proof. If you, Sherlock, so much as disturb, you and your crew will be executed," Sherlock finished, looking content.
He sighed happily, looking at his crew with glee. A woman with brown hair and green eyes dared to move and marched up to her captain. "Well, sir?" she asked.
"What, Clara?" he asked, staring at Clara.
"Aren't you going to sign it?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"Why would I sign such a thing?" Sherlock questioned. "Wait, you really want to go on land?" He looked at her as if she had gone insane.
"Not just me, captain, we all do," she answered.
Sherlock blinked blankly at his crew, seeing the truth in their eyes. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Why do you all want to go in the one place where everybody hates us? Sentiment, I should've known," he mumbled angrily. "You're all naïve. Even if I do sign this ridiculous document, do you honestly think there's anything stopping them from hunting us? And do you think there's anything stopping us if there's a celebration or a contract? No! These people don't care about us. They just want us out of their way. They've always wanted that. All they want are us dead, they left us for dead. That's how this all came about," Sherlock explained, flailing his arms.
A second man with long, black hair looked up at Sherlock, shaking his head at him. "You're insane," he said.
"Anderson, get your facts straight," Sherlock snapped back at him.
"Listen, if they are serious about peace, then why didn't they even invite us pirates, isn't that rude? Isn't today of peace? I see no peace!" he replied. In a grave tone, Sherlock said, "I say we go to that wedding. Hey, it'll be fun."
The crew watched Sherlock in horror. Who knew what their captain had in plan? Whatever it was, they knew one thing, and it wasn't good.
John was standing on a circular platform. A male tailor was securing the sash on John's back, tying it. John kept on wincing as the tailor kept on tightening the sash on John. He scrunched up one eye, groaning. John looked over at Mike, who looked like he was going to burst into laughter.
"Go on, now! Laugh, I dare you!" John barked at him.
Mike began to laugh, unable to contain it no longer. He clutched at his sides, throwing his head back. "I-I'm sorry, Prince John," he said through breaths, wiping his eyes from the tears. "It's that – you're wearing a dress –"
"Kimono!" snapped back the tailor. "Not a dress."
"Oh, it's a dress, admit it," John replied, laughing.
"Stop moving, John," warned the tailor.
John obeyed and stopped moving. He sighed silently, finding it hard to breathe by the kimono. When he was done being fitted, he made his way down the platform, wobbling as he did so. Mike was laughing once more.
"Shut up," John mumbled in embarrassment. "Thank god, Mary won't be seeing me in this," he confessed.
"Come on, John, take a seat," Mike said, patting the empty seat next to him.
John obeyed, bending down. He groaned when he found it hard to bend down. Mike resumed laughing once more, while John continued to lower himself inch by inch.
"It's too tight!" John protested as he sat down.
"Oh," said John's tailor. "The necklace, it needs to go." The tailor leaned towards John's neck, grasping the chain. But before he could move any further, John grabbed the tailor's hand, squeezing it with much force.
"This stays on my neck or I'll cut your hands for trying to pry it off!" he warned dangerously.
The tailor instantly let go of John's necklace, taking a few steps back.
"No, I'm sorry!" John replied, realizing what he had done. "It's that – my real mother, she gave me this necklace. It's all I have left of her."
The tailor's face softened and he nodded his head silently. After a few moments, he answered, "It's all right, I understand."
Soon, the door swung opened and in came Harry, looking giddy. The moment she laid eyes on John, she burst into laughter. "J-John! You look so ridiculous!" she exclaimed, laughing.
"I can't breathe!" John protested.
"Good, now you know how women feel when they wear girdles," she teased, sitting beside John.
"You don't even wear girdles," John countered, smiling at his sister.
"Exactly," she replied, smirking. "But don't go telling Her Majesty or she'll surely scold me."
"Oh, come on, now," he told Harry. "Queen Ebony isn't mean. She's a kind and fair woman."
"John, to you, yes, but that's because you're the special child. After all, you're the one with the gift –"
"Hush now, Harry," John said, casting wearily glances at Mike and the tailor. "This is not the place to talk about such thing."
The door opened gently and in came Ebony, casting a wide grin at John. John smiled at her, instantly rising to his feet despite the fact that he couldn't breathe in this. Mike, Harry, and the tailor all left when she nodded her head at them. She waited until the door had closed behind them before she turned her attention to John.
"Queen Ebony," he said. "Can you explain to me again why I have to wear this?" he asked, looking for some council.
Ebony smiled sweetly at John, chuckling softly. She held John's shoulders, saying, "John, we have to make peace with Japan. Japan is rapidly becoming a strong country, and we'll need Japan to be on our side. That is why you have to wear the kimono out of respect, John." She gave him a faint smile. "And plus, you aren't going to be wearing this for the wedding," she finished.
John smiled brightly, nodding his head in understanding. "But, why am I wearing white? Aren't there some better colors than just white?" he asked, looking down at himself.
"John, white means purity to the Japanese," she explained.
"Meaning?" he questioned, raising a brow at her.
"Virgin."
"Oh! So, in Japan, different colors have different meanings?" he asked.
"It's not like that, John," she replied, chuckling softly. "Now, I must go."
"Your Majesty?" he called to her.
"Yes, John? What is it, child?" she asked him.
"May I speak with Mary? I need to tell her something important," he answered.
She sighed silently, "John, I can't. It's against the rules, love. You know very well it's strictly prohibited to see her right now."
"I know, but I need to tell her something. It'll be less than a minute! I promise," he replied.
"I'm sorry, John, but I won't allow it. You can talk to her at the altar," she said, walking out the door.
John was walking around the palace, admiring the views. He always liked taking a stroll around the palace. There was so much to see. He found himself near a painted window. He stopped and touched it, marveling at its features. He smiled, "Fantastic."
This would soon be his, he thought. But…he couldn't rule all of this. How did Her Majesty expect him to lead thousands, probably millions of people in his empire? But why him? Why now? Her Majesty was only twice his age. She could still rule the empire. John continued to walk, finding it difficult. He soon became annoyed at the pace he was walking. God, he needed to get out of this dress!
Sherlock was ordering his crew about, telling them to man the decks, clean this, clean that, ready the sails, and remove the anchor. They needed to set sail. None dare go against their captain's orders in fear of death. Even with his crazed plan he was forcing them to go along with.
"We're landing near Canterbury," he announced as he grasped the wheel. He turned it to the left, watching the water in amazement. "Then we're making our way to London."
Sherlock called Dimmock and told him to take over the wheel. Sherlock patted him on the back briefly, as if he were a dog, and made his way to his study, which happened to be his room. Sherlock closed the door behind him, chuckling as he prepared himself. He marched towards a chest, opening it to reveal pistols and ammunition. He placed them in his holster, which was near his waist.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door, causing Sherlock to groan in frustration. If this was Donovan, he was going to slam the door so hard on her face. "Come in!" he muttered.
The door opened slowly and in came Lestrade. Soon, Sherlock's face lightened up and he smiled. "Come in, come in, close the door behind you," he ordered casually, as he returned to his chest.
"Sherlock, I want to know why we're doing this," Lestrade mumbled softly.
"I should've known you were going to ask," Sherlock replied. "You're still an officer by heart. But, Lestrade, all the wealthiest people will be attending. And most likely, they'd have bought lavish gifts to the future king that he won't need."
Lestrade rubbed the back of his head, exhaling deeply. "I left for a reason, Sherlock. But, that's a really risky move, Sherlock. If you get caught, you'll die," he answered.
"I couldn't care less in all honesty, Lestrade," Sherlock replied, staring at him.
Lestrade glanced at Sherlock, trying to analyze him. "Sherlock, you're not interested in the loot," he said. "It's never been about the gold or treasure for you, it's always been about the thrill."
A small smirked dared to tug on Sherlock's lips. "Oh, Lestrade, how well you know me," he answered.
"It's not me, Sherlock. It's Sally who's always going on about this," he replied.
Sherlock's smug look disappeared instantly upon hearing her name. "Don't speak of her name here."
Lestrade rolled his eyes at Sherlock. "Sherlock, if you hate her so much, then why do you still have her around if she's such a hassle?" he asked.
"She's in my debt, which is why I still have her. She's useful to me in a way," he answered.
John was in a room with three Japanese people and Queen Ebony. The Japanese had a translator with them that spoke both the languages. John's smiling at them, trying to make polite conversation with them. He knew how important this was to Ebony, and he didn't want to be the one to mess it up. The Japanese seemed to like John. At last, they came to the conclusion to agree to be allies with Britain.
Suddenly, screams were heard. John and Her Majesty stopped talking and looked at the door before they glanced at each other. Immediately, someone pounded on the door with great force, furiously. One of the servants eventually opened the door to reveal Mike Stamford, injured. He clutched at his side as he staggered inside.
John rushed to Mike's side, grabbing his shoulders. "Mike, Mike, look at me! What's going on? Who did this to you?" he demanded.
Mike looked at John weakly, giving him a faint smile. "The Marauders, John, it was the Marauders and they're here. They're taking and grabbing everything they see in sight."
Queen Ebony groaned in frustration and glared at Mike. "How did they slip past here so easily?" she cried.
"They – they signed the letter, Your Majesty," he stammered weakly.
"John, go help the Japanese through the secret exit. Take Mike with you. I need to go and take care of some things," she explained.
John hesitated but he agreed. He marched towards the fireplace, pulling down a candle, which happened to be a latch. Once that was done, a secret exit was revealed.
"Come on, let's go," he answered.
John helped Mike inside, the Japanese following behind them. The translator offered to help Mike, seeing it improper for the king to do it. John agreed. He looked back at the door they had just left. He heard more screams in the distant. John winced, closing his eyes. Should he stay and help the Japanese or should he save the people whose lives were in danger?
As if his question was answered, john heard it. He heard a familiar scream, a familiar voice, a woman's shriek. "Mary!" he yelled. He looked at the translator. "Mike's going to tell you how to get out of here. He knows the way. Listen to him, okay?" John demanded.
The translator nodded, telling the Japanese what he had just been told. John made his way out of the exit, slamming the fireplace closed.
John ran out the door, towards Mary's room. He burst through the door, and he saw it. He had always heard myths and legends about them. But he had never seen one in person. It was a pirate. The pirate had long black hair. He was trying to pry off Mary's crown from her head.
John pulled out a sword he had hidden within the sleeves from his kimono. The pirate noticed the sword and instantly let go of Mary, pulling out his own sword. John immediately lounged forward but Anderson blocked it with his sword. Swords scream out as they clash with one another. At one point, Anderson sliced the bottom of John's kimono. They both looked down to see if any damage had been done.
Immediately, John smirked. "Thank you, now I can properly defeat you," he teased, swinging his sword across Anderson's stomach. He narrowly missed by a few centimeters. Anderson groaned angrily, blocking as best as he could. He then began advancing forward, trying to force John out the room. And it worked. They both slammed against the stair rail. John kicked Anderson in the stomach, forcing him on the ground. John kicks the sword from Anderson's hands, slashing Anderson's stomach this time.
Sherlock was fighting with two guards below the stair rail, laughing as they kept on missing him miserably. "Is that the best you can do? If I had known better, I would've done this a long time ago!"
Sherlock dodged one of the guards' attacks, grasping the second guard's hands and forcing him in front of him. The first guard stabbed the second guard in the chest. Out of the guard's horror, Sherlock used the opportunity, to jam his blade against the guard, killing him quickly. He ran off once they were both dead. When he turned a corner, he bumped into the queen.
"Her Majesty!" Sherlock exclaimed, bowing down low while smirking.
The queen screamed out in frustration, cursing his name. She pulled out a gun she had, but Sherlock used the hilt of his sword to knock it from her grasp. Sherlock's eyes stared at the queen's neck, unable to take his eyes off from the gem. He raised his brow, smirking. With a quick snip from his sword, he grabbed the gem and ran out with it.
"Fallback! Retreat!" Sherlock called out, running out the doors of the palace.
The queen touched her bare neck, screaming out in horror. "Give it back, you treacherous thief!" she cried. "GIVE IT BACK!"
John had his arms all over Mary, inspecting to see if she was okay or hurt. "Mary, are you all right?" he asked.
"I-I'm fine, John. Now that you're here, I'm fine," she sputtered.
John grabbed Mary's hand and told her to follow him. John walked out the door, clutching onto Mary's hand tightly. Mary noticed Anderson, the fallen pirate, and realized he was still alive, badly injured but alive.
"John," she said softly. "We have to help him."
John glanced back at Anderson, who was clutching his stomach weakly. "What? Mary, he was going to hurt you!"
Mary knitted her brows together and forced John towards Anderson. She removed herself from John's grasp and approached Anderson. Before Mary could say anything, Anderson snatched her and held a knife to her neck.
John held his sword out but was quickly attacked from behind, falling to the ground. It was none other than Donovan and Lestrade.
"Are you all right?" Donovan asked Anderson.
Anderson quickly let go of Mary, who cowered backwards in fear. He shook his head weakly.
"Please – please, I'll do anything! Anything you want! Just don't kill me!" she begged pathetically.
Soon, Donovan got angry and forced Mary into unconsciousness. She smirked smugly, looking at Lestrade, who was stunned. "What? I always wanted to hurt a royal," she giggled. "Now, come on. Let's help Anderson."
Lestrade and Sally both helped Anderson to his feet, each having his arms on their shoulders. They began to talk down the stairs until Anderson stopped them.
"Wait! I want him!" he spat, glancing at John who was unconscious. "I want to kill that filthy bastard for injuring me!"
"But –" Lestrade began.
"Shall I remind you of the rules?" Anderson muttered angrily.
Sally cast a glance at Lestrade and nodded her head hesitantly. Lestrade groaned softly, letting go of Anderson. He walked towards John. He picked John up and placed him on his back.
Sherlock and the rest of the crew had made it on board, all panting and regaining their breaths from the excitement. All but Sherlock, who merely laughed and jumped around excitedly. "This was fun, wasn't it?" he asked.
Molly just stared at him, hands on her knees. She shook her head at him silently.
Sherlock pulled the gem out from his pocket, marveling at its beauty. "Okay, ready the ship, we need to start leaving now," he said.
"We can't!" Dimmock replied. "Sally, Anderson, and Lestrade still aren't here."
This caused Sherlock some disgruntle. He counted his crewmates, and sure enough, three people were missing. Damn it! He cursed silently. He would've left Anderson and Donovan behind in a heartbeat, but Lestrade, Lestrade he couldn't leave behind. He needed Lestrade.
Finally, Sherlock noticed them in a Ford T Model, speeding their way here, them and along with the rest of the guards. Sherlock groaned angrily, rubbing his head in frustration. Those idiots! He rolled his eyes. "Prepare the ship, now! Remove the anchor!" he ordered.
Sherlock marched towards the edge of the boat, pulling out a ladder and rolling it down the side of the ship for the three to climb aboard.
At a sudden bump, John jerked awake. He heard shouts and yells coming from behind him. He looked up, realizing he was in a car. He looked out the window and saw the guards. Once they saw him, the called out to him. John's eyes widened from surprised and realized what was happening. He began kicking and screaming but he was bounded, which Lestrade had done.
Lestrade was beside John. He sighed in confliction and rubbed his head. "Stop squirming, prince," he said. "It won't do you much good with trying to free yourself. I made sure of that."
John blinked blankly at Lestrade before he returned to kicking and screaming, begging for his release. He wanted to be free.
Sally continued to drive the car faster, trying to get away from the guards. Finally, they drove right into the English Channel, bracing for impact. The car started to slowly sink. Sally pulled open the roof and helped Anderson out of the car. They quickly made their way to the moving boat.
John was still thrashing his body wildly until Lestrade pinned his arms, on top of John. John tried to free himself from his clutches but it wasn't much use. "What're you going to do?" he stammered, looking up at Lestrade in fear.
"Listen, and you listen to me well," he began. "We are going to drown if you don't stop squirming. So, let me help you out of this car, you got it?" he demanded.
John gulped down dryly, nodding his head fervently. Lestrade unclenched John's hands. When he noticed John wasn't resisting anymore, he grabbed John, placing him on his back once more. Once they were out of the car and into the channel, Lestrade began to swim towards the boat. John watched in horror as the guards stopped perusing them from the shore. All remaining hope he had diminishing.
Anderson and Donovan were already on the boat, hacking and panting heavily. Anderson was cowering in pain. Sherlock rolled his eyes at them, not really caring for their safety. He scanned the ocean, trying to find some sign of Lestrade.
Lestrade was freezing. The ocean was cold and having extra weight on him didn't make anything better. When he finally made it to the ladder, he began shivering as the damning wind blew towards their directions. "Please," Lestrade begged, "don't move!" John didn't need to be told that. He held onto Lestrade tightly in fear of falling into the ocean.
