A/N Sorry this had taken a little longer to get to you guys but there will also be a chapter on it's way tomorrow which will cover Sherlock prior to this chapter and during and shall explain all! Thanks for all the follows and reviews! I just so happy the story is being enjoyed.

Chapter 7

Worth Their Weight In Gold.

The next time John saw the pirate he was more prepared. With hours alone in the tank he had been able to spend his time listening and feeling the sounds of the ship through his body and the vibrations in the water as they danced over his skin. He became more alert to when people were near and how each foot differed. Sherlock's steps were always light and a few times he had hovered just at the top of the steps. John wondered why he didn't just come down. He had shown no fear before, no remorse for his actions if anything leaving the threat of more pain hanging between them. So why then did he hesitate? It wasn't until hours after the first sign of the captain that the man in question finally dropped down onto one of the lower wooden steps and dipped his feet into the water. It had become a sort of greeting between them now. Sherlock's feet caressing the water and in turn the water would caress John. It was the most intimate feeling and something which ultimately frighten him. John didn't wait to surface. There was no point delaying the inevitable. If more pain was to come he would take it readily. No fear. No weakness. The way it should be when one faces their enemy.

His feelings were conflicted. In his mind he had just called Sherlock his enemy. It was such a leap from a few days previous when he had looked upon the God like figure. Majestic and astounding in his beauty and now it had become this. Something he feared but just could not leave alone. The pirate was dangerous to be sure, and it was that which John craved more than release, more than the pain and knowledge that he lived. He wanted the thrum of excitement in his cold veins and the anticipation of every move to come. Keeping him constantly on the edge. It was his ultimate weakness. The reason why he had been injured so many times before and now it was drawing him to the pirate like some sick magnet. Unable to stay away because every time he sat down on those steps John would rise and swim forward. Would greet him and offer himself out and in return he would get the same cool interest. But not this time. This time something had changed.

Sherlock's eyes were still fixed on his, still an indescribable shade of blue but the wave that danced beneath them had changed. The cold glance seemed to have thawed and as they watched each other closely Sherlock began to pull of item after item of clothing. His chest was quickly left bare. Pale skin taut over muscular shoulders and long, strong arms. John swam back just a little, cautious as to what would happen next and unable to understand the change which seemed to have taken place in such a short period of time. Many things between them were unspoken. Considering the time they had spent together the words they had exchanged were few and it was that way now. Just watching and observing. Trying to anticipate what would happen next, what the other's reaction would be. Finally Sherlock was down to his undergarments and was slowly stepping into the tank. His feet touched the bottom and when he stood at full height the water line came up to his pectorals, splashing and dancing over the skin.

John looked on in awe, disgusted with himself that despite everything that had happened Sherlock was by far the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. For one inexplicable moment he wanted to reach out and touch. Though he would fight men and monsters and anything else that threatened him, the foot that stood between them was too much of a leap for John to take so he watched instead. The time went by slowly each waiting for the other to speak. Each feeling as if they deserved some kind of explanation. But what did he owe this man? What had he done that had brought about this turn around? Sherlock was eyeing him as if he were more than just a curiosity now but as if he were necessary. It was something John had never been before in his life. Necessary.

It took him by surprise when Sherlock finally spoke. His voice somewhat different now. It still held the air of cleverness but the deep tones seemed more at ease.

"I don't do this often." He stated quietly and after keeping eye contact for so long Sherlock seemed to be looking anywhere he could that wasn't at John. John shot him a questioning glance and then when Sherlock still didn't look his way he spoke for himself.

"Don't do what?" He questioned. The pirate's head snapped up as if he were surprised John was even there. Expecting to look up and be alone. John swam forward until they were closer than they had ever been before.

"Don't do what?" He repeated now he had finally recaptured the captains attention. Sherlock's body stiffened and the water around him sent waves of vibration over John's scales. Some prickling with pain but somehow that seemed like a rather distant memory. Though something tugging in the back of his mind told him to be cautious. To not forget just how dangerous this man could be. After a few seconds of waiting his question was finally answered.

"Apologise." Sherlock said curtly then continued apparently worried if he didn't do so now he would change his mind. "What I did to you. It was wrong of me. After further reflection - " He paused. "Well, we have more in common than I once thought."

John wanted to look away then. The intensity of the pirate's gaze bore into him and he felt as if his entire being were being read out like a book. read and catalogued and kept in an archive somewhere deep in the corridors of Sherlock's mind. John stuttered a few times, opening and closing his mouth as he continuously changed his mind as to whether he wished to reply. What would he even say? It wasn't alright. None of this was alright. This backwards apology because what it really meant was I'm sorry I made things awkward but you're still my prisoner. John was well aware that words were cheap but when they fell from that mouth in that baritone whisper he couldn't help but believe them to be worth their weight in gold.