A/N: Questions have come up about the time period: I picture it as being set in a Pirates of the Caribbean era. Keep in mind this will be a slash fic (Sherlock/John). I wasn't quite sure if I clarified on that. Anyway, I've been updating a lot because I have a vacation coming up, so I want to give you guys one more chapter before I go for a week. Yes the story is ridiculous and cracky, but it's great fun to write! Thanks for the nice reviews! Sorry for any mistakes, I rushed to get this up before my vacation.
Chapter 3.
It was silent when John woke up. There was someone near him; he could feel their presence, hear their breathing. Fear struck him quickly and he kept his eyes shut, trying to come to his senses. It could be a crew member? Had he passed out on deck? Then again, last night's events could have been a dream. Was it last night? How long had he been out? John lay still and unmoving, listening to the breathing coming from beside him.
John moved his head lethargically and in return received a sharp pain surging through his skull. He instantly was brought back to the night of the storm, and his head crashing against the boat. He raised his hand gingerly to his forehead, listening to the breathing next to him. Whatever the thing was, it was asleep. He felt around to find a large gash in his head, caked in dried blood and sand. He held his breath, feeling around it, letting a few sighs of pain escape his mouth.
He opened his eyes slowly, but closed them again when sunlight pierced his vision, blinding him. He moved his legs around; if he couldn't see his surroundings he would try to feel them. Sand, rocky sand. He moved his hands away from nursing his wound and laid them in the sand, preparing to prop himself up with the draining energy he had.
Reluctantly he lifted himself up and held his weight with his arms, shaking from the exhaustion of being carried away last night by...
The events of the night rushed back to him again. Lestrade, where was Lestrade? More importantly, were was John? And the hands, the thing that had dragged him away from his ship that night... He had a sinking feeling that the person was next to him, and as much as he feared to do so, he attempted another look around. First John squinted, then gradually opened his eyes bit by bit until his vision was again flooded by light. Though aware of his fleeting strength, he remained with his eyes open until the world came into focus. He was met by the sight of pacific waves crashing almost silently against a rocky shore, and an endless horizon gray with a thin layer of clouds, sun peaking out from under them. He let the sight sink in, not wanting to discover the thing that had yanked him away from his ship last night.
The creature had had hands, John thought, placing a hand again on his wound. His body ached endlessly, his head spun in confusion. His ship was long gone. He was abandoned, left. He sighed, the sigh coming out louder than expected.
That very second the breathing thing awoke and became a blur as John found hands clasped over his eyes.
"Ah!" He groaned, wincing in immense pain. The hands on his eyes were cold, but not freezing. Like cool stones of a river or a chilling mist in the early dawn. John kept still until his pain subsided, his head reeling. The hands did not give way. John's heart raced inside his aching chest and he broke the soundless atmosphere.
"Where am I?" he whispered, clenching his eyes against the palms of the hands currently thrown over his eyes. Whatever the thing was it didn't want to be seen. John heard murmurs coming from above. Something about a thing named Myraft? Mikeroft? What kind of name was that? (Considering it was a name.) "Where am I?" he repeated, louder. The mutters stopped, and the thing spoke, its soft voice fell upon John's ears like sweet, gentle music. It was a woman.
"You're safe," the voice breathed tenderly. Despite the sweet voice John's heart continued to pound within him, remembering his father's stories about the Sirens: sweet voices but dangerous creatures. John was not about to let his guard down. The hands steadily removed themselves, the bright day light hit John's eyes again.
"Ahh," he groaned, peering up at his capturer. He saw red. Or orange, rather. Orange hair tumbling over a young woman's face. Definitely not a Siren, he thought to himself, looking up at the pretty face staring back at him. He must have been staring for quite some time, because the woman spoke up.
"Who are you?" she demanded quietly.
"Who am I? Who are you?" John's voiced raised, making the shy woman shrink back in surprise. John would have been apologetic, but this woman had pulled him off his ship! Stolen him from his crew! Left them without a captain!
"Molly," she answered, moving away from John's face, rolling away from John altogether.
"Hold on!" John called. He liftined himself up to look around, regretting his actions as soon as he had done so for another bolt of pain and soreness rushed through him. "Why the hell did you pull me from my ship!" he yelled, anger getting the best of him. He looked around the rocky shores for the girl, but she had disappeared. Not fearful but angry, John got on his feet, ignoring his body. His mind was going a mile a minute and he had no time to worry about his pain now, there was always later. He glanced around, neck creaking and bones popping beneath him. How long had he been out? He had a sudden suspicion that it wasn't just for a night.
John's attentions became focused quickly, however, on a large tail in the ocean, making its way further away from him. It was a light emerald, the color of brilliant leaves on a new spring day. Peaking out of the ocean at him was the young woman, Molly, with a tail swimming behind her. She was becoming smaller and smaller by the second.
"I'll be back! I'm just getting a medic!" She called, dipping again into the sea, completely disappearing.
It hit John like a ton of bricks. The very creature he'd searched for all of his life, the very creature who consumed his time and filled his thoughts had been lying next to him, caring for him. John had found a mermaid. And there were more. There were many more, he thought, falling off his feet and landing hard on the sand, sitting dumbfounded. He had met a mermaid. And he was about to meet another.
A/N: Who's the medic? Is Molly being true? Is help coming to John? More importantly, will he ever see his ship again? Wait and see... (more evil laughs) I promise an extra long chapter when I get back from my trip, filled with answers and plottiness and merman-y goodness! Bye for now!
