Plot plot plot plot plot, yay

Love you all

Lestrade stepped up behind the merman, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. "John? Are you alright?"

John jumped slightly at the contact, turning to face him. "I'll be fine, yeah. Still just trying to cope with the new memories, that's all."

Lestrade nodded his understanding. "Don't worry, you still have one more day to adjust. Do you want to, i dunno..." He drew a hand awkwardly through his silver hair. "Talk about it?"

John stared at him a moment. "Is that normal human custom? To talk about your troubling thoughts and emotions?"

Lestrade shrugged, moving back to sit at the edge of John's bed. "It's what women do, but I think we could do it too." He smiled to show that he was halfway sarcastic.

John smiled back, joining him on the bed and leaning back against the headboard. "Merfolk don't do that, it's considered bad form to confess a weak emotional state."

"Yeah, well no offence, but your kind is starting to sound a bit barbaric."

"None taken." John laughed lightly. "But to be fair, you lot aren't far from savages either."

"What, humans?"

"Pirates."

"Ah." Lestrade shifted so that he was sitting at the foot of the bed, facing John. "So, do you want to talk, or..."

John gave him a knowing look. "I have a feeling 'talking about it' will cause more discomfort than I am already experiencing." He took the following awkward silence to look around the room. It was still dark out, but a few early rays of light illuminated the place enough to get a basic sense of things, and there was a certain pair of black wings missing. "Where's Sherlock?"

Lestrade shrugged. "He was gone when I woke up, I'd assume he's out looking for a ship."

John arched an eyebrow "Oh right, the theft, I nearly forgot about that." John's transformation would only last another, what, 6, 7 days? They needed to be out at sea when that happened, carrying a merman around town would get tedious. Plus, Sherlock needed a ship, and what better way to obtain a new ship than to steal one... Actually, there were loads of better ways, but this one was the fastest. Something was still prodding at the back of his mind though. "Um, Greg..."

"Hm?"

"Once this is all over, and we're out at sea again, what're we going to do?"

Lestrade threw him a puzzled look. "How d'you mean?"

John played absently with the hem of his nightshirt. "Well I guess a better question would be, what do you plan to do, you and Sherlock, with me? I mean, I was Sherlock's prisoner, basically, and after this whole ordeal... well, what'll happen to me?"

Lestrade thought for a moment, furrowing his brows together in obvious concentration. "I dunno. I suppose it's up to Captain Holmes."

John rubbed at his eyes. "I suppose so."

As if on cue, a key turned swiftly in the lock at the other end of the room and Sherlock swept in, coat snapping out behind him dramatically as it must have been manufactured for. "Ah, good, you're both up, I think I've found something."

The two of them turned their attention to the captain as he marched over, choosing to lean against the wall instead of joining them on the bed. Good thing, too, Sherlock never held any regard for personal space, but all three of them on one bed would have been a little more than awkward. Lestrade spoke up first. "And what is it you've found?"

Sherlock smiles, shrugging off his coat and throwing it over a nearby chair, taking a moment to stretch his wings. "I found a ship, obviously, absolutely brand new, hasn't even set sail yet. I believe they finished work on it two days ago, lucky us. It hasn't been sold to anyone yet as far as I can tell, so that should make taking it a bit easier, but it's due to be auctioned in 7 days. Luckily for us, again, that's exactly when we'll need to be gone."

"Where is it?"

"It's docked at Baker's Bay, not too far from here. I actually know the owner of the port, and she owes me a favour."

John smiled. "Well this is just a day full of luck, isn't it?"

"Yes it is. There's only one problem now."

"What's that?" Lestrade and John chorused.

"We need to find a way to steal a ship with only three people."

Lestrade chuckled. "That is a bit of a problem, isn't it." John nodded in agreement. "Well we've got six days to figure it out, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Why are we here again?" John questioned as he and Lestrade stood in front of an even shadier looking inn on the other side of town.

"Because this is our last night on land, and our inn doesn't have a bar." Lestrade clapped him on the back.

"And why couldn't we tell Sherlock?" John was starting to feel nervous. Sherlock had become something of an older brother to him over the last three days of plotting and schemes to steal the ship, and he didn't feel right doing something outside of his knowledge. Which, come to think of it, was almost impossible to do, he probably knew exactly where they were. But still, it felt weird.

"Because Captain Holmes is busy and I don't feel up to disturbing him, do you?" John shook his head. "Right then, c'mon."

Lestrade pulled him up the steps and casually walked through the door. The bar was in clear sight just on the other side of the lobby, and Lestrade practically dragged John by the hand. John stumbled to keep up with him, and was thankful that the pain in his leg had subsided enough to allow him to walk unaided.

John had to resist the urge to cover his nose as they walked through the door. He'd never smelled alcohol before, and the strong odor hit his delicate senses like a slap in the face. Lestrade dragged him over to an open booth (Seeing as the actual bar would've probably killed John) and flagged a waitress over. She was scantily dressed in a tight corset and a low cut blouse and John couldn't help but awe at the fact that she hadn't fallen out of her dress yet. "What can I get you boys?"

Lestrade ordered for the both of them, though John didn't hear. He was too busy looking around at the other patrons, some of which were already falling out of their seats drunk, and others looking sombre and wallowing in self pity. He decided then and there that he wasn't that big of a fan of bars.

Lestrade waved a hand in front of his face, trying to get his attention. "Sorry, what?" John turned back to him.

"I said what d'you think?" Lestrade leaned on the table between them.

But John wasn't listening again, someone at the bar caught his eye. She wasn't exactly tall, but her slim features and dark hair pulled up in an intricate bun made her look as elegant as Sherlock. Her lips were painted a gaudy red, and she had sharp blue eyes, which searched the room tirelessly, but thankfully hadn't spotted him yet. He recognised her. But from where?

"Miss Adler." The woman turned and smiled as a tall blond man approached her. This one he'd definitely seen before, though the location still eluded him. He wore a tattered black vest over a dirty white shirt and a blood red sash about his waist. He was definitely a pirate, wasn't even trying to hide it, though John doubted anyone would even dare to confront a man of that build.

"John!"

"Hm?" He turned back to Lestrade again, who had fixed him with a puzzled expression.

"What are you looking at?"

John nodded toward the pair at the bar "Do you see that woman in the dark red dress with the black leather corset? The one next to the tall blond man."

"Yeah."

"Do you recognise either of them?"

Lestrade furrowed his brow, looking the two of them over intently "No, why? Do you?"

John shook his head. "They look really familiar, but I don't remember where fro..." he was cut off as a third man entered the scene, this one he definitely knew. He was about the height of the woman, with slick black hair and dark eyes that watched everyone like they were his prey. He knew that face, he'd been subjected to that gaze before.

Moriarty

Moriarty and Moran. He hadn't been able to place just one of them, but he remembered them as a pair. They were the two that guarded him while he was held prisoner on the Deduction. And that woman, Adler, she was on the ship too! He felt something twist in his stomach.

He turned back to Lestrade, voice dropped to a whisper. "Those three, the woman, the blond, and the dark eyed man, they were on Sherlock's ship."

Lestrade shot him a skeptical look. "That's not possible. No one could've survived that storm, the only reason you two did is because neither of you is exactly human"

It took a second for the pieces to click in John's brain, but click they did. "You're right, no human could've survived that wreck."

"So what're you saying?"

"What if they're not human?"

An eery silence fell over their table as Lestrade took in what John had just said. It wasn't entirely impossible, Sherlock had hidden his giant black wings from the rest of his crew, someone else could've done the same. Lestrade finally snapped out of his shock "Wait a minute, they look human."

John shrugged. "Yeah, and so do I."

Lestrade frowned. "What, you think they have a spell over them."

John furrowed his brow. "Maybe, but that seems improbable since they look exactly the same as they did on the ship, and a spell like that isn't one you'd want cast on yourself over and over."

Lestrade gave him a pitying look. "Right, so not a spell. Then why do they look human?"

John thought about that a moment. "Sherlock looks human."

Lestrade shook his head. "No way, do you know how rare Half-breds are? I think it's highly unlikely that four of them would have resided on the same ship."

"Highly unlikely, but not impossible."

Lestrade rolled his eyes, gesturing subtly towards the trio. "I don't believe it, Half-breds always have something that sets them apart from us, they don't look completely human."

John shrugged again, toying with a knife on the table. "I don't know, ok? All I know is that those three were on Sherlock's ship, and they should have died, but here they are, clear as day."

Lestrade ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. "You're sure they were on the ship? What're their names?"

"Moran, Adler, and Moriarty." John recited. "And they all know me, too. What if they see me? What'll they do?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

John sighed, looking down at his hands. His transformation hadn't been total, and he could still feel the slight webbing between his fingers and the sharp claw-like nails. It felt like so long ago since he'd been his true self, but it'd only been, what, 6 days? He looked back up at Lestrade. "Could you go listen to them?"

"What?"

"They don't know you, you could go up to the bar and listen in on what they're talking about." John explained.

"Why would I do that?"

"Well..." John hesitated. "Either they're here looking for Sherlock or something, and we could help them out, or they're up to something not so good, and I have a horrible feeling that it might be the latter. Please?" John pleaded, flashing his saddest blue eyes up at Greg.

Lestrade groaned, rubbing at his face. "Alright, fine, but only for a minute or two."

John smiled at him as he left. He grabbed a spot a couple seats down from them and ordered himself a drink, trying his hardest to look casual. John saw them glance his way for a moment, but thankfully disregarded him as another random sailor trying to drown in his cup. He was gone a while longer than a couple minutes, and John couldn't decide if that was good or not. What he didn't like, though, is how obviously disturbed he was starting to look. Finally, five minutes later, the trio left and Lestrade returned to the table, a good shade paler than he'd been before. "C'mon, lets go."

John complied, checking around to make sure they were gone before following Lestrade back out the door. Neither spoke a word until they were back on the street again, where they stopped for a moment to breath in the fresh air. It was nearly pitch black out.

John waited a moment before prodding Lestrade's side. "What did you hear?"

Lestrade wiped at his mouth before replying, running his hand through his hair in what John was beginning to see as a nervous tick. "You're right, they're certainly up to no good."

John nodded "What did they say? What do they want?"

Lestrade looked down at him, searching his face with his dark brown eyes for a moment before letting out a shaky breath "They want you."