Much love to all, please alert me to any mistakes


The smooth glass felt cool against his skin as John pressed his palm to the shoppe window, gazing curiously at the nautical oddities on the other side. It was strange, doing busywork about town. It was about midday now, a time when merfolk would normally be out on the rocks sunning themselves, waiting for the heat of the day to subside a little before they'd begin hunting. He remembered being anxious at midday, always looking for something to do while his family rested, he could never sit still. Well, at least he'll never have that problem again. Things never seemed to stop on land. Everywhere he looked, humans were hurrying back and forth, flagging down horse drawn cabs, rushing in and out of shops. And they all wore such extravagant clothing, to the point of looking uncomfortable. So many layers and patterns, he felt almost naked in his simple trousers and button down shirt.

Which was why they were out in the first place, of course. Sherlock was still back at the hotel room, planning their escape, but he and Lestrade were out shopping for a few necessities, like clothes.

"John?" Lestrade called over his shoulder. The merman managed to pull himself away from the glittering curios behind the window and continued following him down the street, still leaning heavily on his cane. There was just so much to take in, he feared he would miss something if he moved too fast.

They made their way to a small second hand shoppe around a corner, tucked away between a bookstore and a haberdashery. John smiled at the tinkling sound the bell made as they opened the door, stepping into the dimly lit room that smelled strongly of dust and shoe polish. The manager looked up from behind his desk in the corner as the pair walked in, regarding them briefly before turning back to his newspaper, obviously not intending to offer any assistance.

Lestrade plucked a coat off the rack, examining it briefly before replacing it and taking down another. "Have a look around, John, see if there's anything you like."

The merman nodded, self consciously rubbing at his neck as he wandered through the small store. He couldn't shake the constant paranoia that someone would see past the disguise, and they would be sent out on the run. He glanced at the storekeeper again. He just sat behind the counter, leaning on one arm as he skimmed over the paper in his hand. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about him. He was idly sifting through a selection of trousers when Greg approached him again, a couple of vests slung over one arm and a shirt and coat in the other. "Come try some of these on, we haven't got all day."

By the end of their shopping trip, John figured he looked rather dapper. They'd ended up purchasing a couple more shirts as well as a formal and casual jacket (Important to take any situation into account), a few vests, and another pair of trousers. It wasn't much, but they weren't really planning anything very long term anyway.

John tugged idly at his new brace strap as he limped alongside Lestrade back to the hotel. "How long are we planning to stay here again?"

Lestrade contemplated for a moment, counting the days in his head "Well, this is our first day here, hopefully you'll regain your memories by tonight, that'll give you one more day to recover... After that it just depends on how long it'll take for Sherlock to come up with a plan to set sail again."

John nodded. Right, the memories. He could feel them lurking in the dark recesses of his mind, swimming about just out of reach. And when he urged them to come closer, all he got was an intense burning sensation and the restored drawl of Mycroft's voice. 'It will take him approximately two more days to recover the memories of tonight and to sort them out properly, that leaves you with seven days left to find yourselves a ship before the enchantment wears off..' Right then, he had to regain the rest by tonight.

They walked in silence for a while longer, John gazing about him at the overwhelming amount of sights and sounds, trying to ignore Lestrade's not-so-discreet glances at his gills and eyes. The man was curious about him, he could understand that, but he wasn't sure he liked the feeling of being examined, of being watched...

The memory hit him like a stone against his head, and he staggered and slipped down to the pavement. Greg was by his side in an instant, but John couldn't see him anymore. The burning was back, white hot across his entire body. He could remember writhing in pain, screaming and thrashing against his restraints as the fire surged through him, crying for mercy, pleading for help. But no one came to his aid.

The three of them just stood there, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Sherlock, watching him, observing his reactions and stepping back every now and then as he lashed out towards them. Slowly, ever so agonizingly slowly, he felt the pain recede and the black edges of the memory began to seep through the border of his vision. He blinked a few times and slowly the real world came back to him, bright and hazy and nowhere near as pleasant as it was a minute ago.

Greg was sat beside him, muttering soothing words as his shuddering ceased. He brought a hand to his face, feeling the last of the flames of heat nip lightly at his extremities before disappearing altogether. He stood shakily with the help of Greg at his left arm and the cane at his right. If that's what all the memories were going to feel like, then this was going to be a long day.

"... John?" Greg's voice echoed through his ears, and John shook his head once to subdue the biting throbbing behind his eyes. "John, are you alright? What happened?"

"I'm fine, yeah, just... got hit with a memory, is all." He glanced around, waiting for his surroundings to come into focus. A few women on the other side of the street were staring at them, but continued on their way as soon as he met their eyes. Apparently no one else had noticed his little episode. That's good, didn't want to draw too much attention to himself. He leaned heavily on Greg's shoulder as they continued on their way down the street.


Sherlock sat by the window when Lestrade and John arrived back at the hotel, hands clasped by his lips and wings relaxed behind him, flaring out in a black shimmering mass to fill his corner of the room. He glanced up at them as the door opened, regarding them briefly before turning back to the window. "What have you remembered, John?"

The merman turned to stare at him, always a little perplexed by his seemingly infinite knowledge, but too exhausted to bother asking how he figured that one out. "Yeah, not much, just a... sensation is all." He looked to Greg for help.

Lestrade shrugged, turning to look at Sherlock. "Says he remembered feeling fire, like, a burning sensation taking over his body."

"Is that it?"

John nodded "Yeah."

Sherlock scowled out the window, dark feathers whirling about as he swiftly stood, settling his wings neatly against his back as he set about pacing the small room. "That's not enough, it's nearly dusk, and you still have more to remember. We need to speed the process along."

Lestrade stepped forward, holding up his hand in hesitation. "Hang on, wouldn't that be a bit dangerous? Shouldn't John deal with them in his own time and not force the memories to resurface?"

Sherlock sighed pointedly, stopping his pacing to roll his eyes at the greying man now in front of him. "Please, Lestrade, I'm sure it's perfectly safe. He's already remembered most of it, we only need to tell him the rest."

"But Mycroft said..."

"Damn it, Lestrade, my brothers orders are not above mine, do you understand?" Sherlock nearly shouted at the older man, flourishing his wings a bit as he did. He was obviously annoyed at the implication that he was a lesser man than the elder Captain.

John decided to speak up "Is that all we would have to do? Just talk? No more spells or anything, right?"

Sherlock glanced over at him, seemingly having forgotten for a moment that he was in the room. "Yes."

"Do I have a say in this?"

"No."

Lestrade rolled his eyes, giving up finally as he slumped down in the chair that was previously occupied by the half-bred. John took a shaky breath, still uncertain about uncovering more painful memories but at the same time, he knew it had to be done. He took a seat next to Greg, beckoning Sherlock to come join them in the third chair. "Lets get this over with, then."