FINS Chapter Four

Sundown

Sherlock waiting impatiently beneath the waves, watching the sun dip below the horizon. His heart beat madly as he swam back and forth, back and forth, never taking his eyes off the sun's glow on the surface. The minute it disappeared, Sherlock would go looking for the human boy. John. Sherlock's heart fluttered and he smiled briefly before biting his lip and wringing his hands. Oh, what had he been thinking, making a meeting with a human? If Mycroft found out he'd been consorting with the deadliest thing to all merkind, not even family love could keep Mycroft from tearing his head off.

Sherlock was just about to turn and swim back the way he came when the glow on the surface vanished. With a jolt of excitement, he completely forgot about his brother, and swam up.

Once he got used to breathing air, Sherlock swam tentatively toward the dark shape sitting on the shoreline. As he got closer and closer, Sherlock could make out John's broad shoulders, his shaggy blonde hair, his strong jawline. As John's eyes met his, Sherlock blushed at the huge grin that formed on his lips. John looked like he hadn't smiled in a long time.

John moved closer to the shore as Sherlock approached. "Hello," he said, a little awkwardly, and Sherlock couldn't help but smile. Sherlock must be as strange a sight to see for John as he was for Sherlock.

Sherlock returned the greeting, and they remained there for a little, staring at each other. Finally, John coughed and scratched his head. "Um," he said, "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions, Sherlock, if that's alright."

Sherlock smiled and nodded. He had expected as much.

"Well, first off," John continued and looked out onto the darkened sea, "I was wondering, really—well, considering everyone thinks merfolk aren't real—why you decided to show yourself. To me, of all people," he laughed quietly, but Sherlock could see sadness in his eyes. It puzzled him.

"Why not you?" He asked curiously. Sherlock could hardly think of any reason—to him, John was the most amazing thing in the world.

John looked back towards the shore and shrugged. Sherlock sensed that he didn't want to answer the question, so he continued, "To be honest, it was a bit of an accident. I was just sort of exploring a bit when I came across the furry black fellow—," John snorted a laugh, "—and then you spotted me."

"You mean Pitch, my dog," John explained, sitting cross-legged on the sand. When Sherlock cocked an eyebrow quizzically, John grinned and further explained, "he's my pet—an animal that lives with me. Well, he didn't until recently. Found him eating out of our garbage half-starved about a year ago, and he's never left."

Sherlock stared, starry-eyed, as John looked off in the distance and chuckled at some old memory. Sherlock liked the sound of his voice. It was soft with only the slightest touch of gruffness, light-hearted and relaxed. Practically the exact opposite of his brother's deadly, elegant voice. Sherlock crossed his arms over a protruding rock and rested his chin on the backs of his hands, content to just listen to John speak forever. It wasn't until John stopped speaking that Sherlock broke from his little daze. "Pardon?" he said embarrassedly. John grinned mischievously and pretended not to notice the blush that spread across Sherlock's face. "I asked, 'Have you got a family?'"

Sherlock stiffened. A lump formed in his throat. John, who had noticed the colour drain completely from Sherlock's face, back-peddled. "Whoa, you don't have to answer, I was just curious if there were any others—,"

"No, it's okay," Sherlock said, although his voice cracked. He looked away from John's handsome face. "It's just my parents—they were killed two years ago by fishermen. That's why humans and merfolk haven't crossed paths for hundreds of years—when humans don't understand something, they kill it," he spat bitterly. He glanced at John again, shook himself and reached out a hand. "No—I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just my people's beliefs. Not mine." John looked cautiously at Sherlock's hand before grasping it lightly in his.

"What are your beliefs, then?" John leaned toward Sherlock, now so close that he could feel John's breath on his face. It smelled of fruit.

"I believe that humans are misunderstood by my people," Sherlock said, barely over a whisper, "I believe that, if we were to reveal our existence to them, we would be protected, not slaughtered. Humans are a curious species. They would want to study us, that's all. And once they saw our intelligence, then perhaps we could coexist as equals."

The ghost of a smile appeared on John's lips. "You have too much faith in my species," he whispered. Sherlock swallowed. "I don't know if I do," he whispered back.

John moved back and looked inquiringly at Sherlock. Sherlock raised an eyebrow playfully, although his heart squeezed a little when John moved away. "How do you mean?" John asked.

"Well," Sherlock said with a smile, "I revealed myself to you. And as of yet I haven't been harpooned. So I'd say that's a good reason to have a little faith in humanity." John laughed. The sound of it made Sherlock's heart soar.

"You know, I like you, Sherlock," John said. Sherlock nearly sprang out of the water with joy. "I like you, too, John."

To be continued…