Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes & Co. are the original creations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Warnings/Rating: PG-13 for insinuated homosexuality
Author's Note: (sigh) I've gone all fail-writer again. This was pretty much done before I even posted part one. Then, right before I was going to post this chapter, I decided I wanted to rewrite a good-sized portion of it. Then I got a job during the summer. Then I discovered Doctor Who, and was immediately addicted. Then school kicked back up. And then I got hooked on Fright Night (which I already have some fic up for, if you are so inclined). Three months later, and I've finally finished Skins and Hearts. This is so typically me… Anyway, thanks for reading my ramble and I hope you enjoy the last chapter of the story!
Chapter 3
Sherlock watched the human leave, the moonlight shining off his body. His limp looked painful, and Sherlock tried not to feel sympathy, since that was a feeling worth nothing to anyone involved. At any rate, a far more urgent issue was what he was going to tell his brother. The evening may have only amounted to a close call, but Mycroft was still going to be furious when he heard about this encounter.
He shoved down his pants, taking up the shirt and neatly tucking them both under a narrow lip on the rock face inside the fissure. Scavenging the vestments on a previous trip had been tricky, but the trouble was well worth the freedom of movement about the bustling human cities. He would prefer not to have to repeat the process, but, as with his pelt, there was only so much he could do to hide them. Thankfully, soon enough that would no longer be a problem, as he had nearly completed his first objective.
As a lower ranking clan leader, Mycroft had known that Sherlock was the best possible agent for the planned land-based fact-finding mission. He had taken several months to convince Sherlock to aid him with this. When Mycroft first approached him, Sherlock had refused several times, rebelling at the thought of sinking so low as to working for his brother. Eventually, however, his own curiosity and desire to explore got the better of him, and he agreed to the job. Humans were just such fascinating creatures, so solid and straightforward, and learning to blend in with them was a challenge that Sherlock could not resist.
As Sherlock's brother, however, Mycroft wanted him to stay far away from land in general and towns in particular, and had spent just as long lecturing him on staying unobtrusive. Mycroft's exasperation with Sherlock didn't take long to transition from pleading for something resembling duty to pleading for something resembling self-preservation.
By that point, however, Sherlock's stubbornness had also transitioned, from galling his brother for sheer spiteful rivalry, to determination to see his part through. Sherlock would never pass on an opportunity like this. The quest for knowledge was too great of a pull for Sherlock's mind. There was no denying that it would be dangerous, but that just made it all the more thrilling in many ways.
He picked up his pelt, holding it close to his body in a mockery of human modesty, and waded through the coarse, loose sand to get closer to the waves. He could see the world from here. The foamy sea spread out on one side, sinuous and endless and shifting, and the harsh land across the other, rocky beach bound by grassy banks of gravel and broken shells. It was empty save for the moonlight and the healer-human, the waves just beginning to wash away the seaweed scraps left behind by high tide.
The healer-human was just climbing up over the long grassy dune separating the beach from the more solid earth. He put a lot of weight on his stick, moving faster once he had cleared the beach and had harder ground to support his weight easier.
From his tiredness and exasperated demeanor, the way he had shivered, the scent of the sea clinging to his form and the sand that had dried onto his clothing, Sherlock could tell that he had been outside on the beach for some hours. Most likely, he had found Sherlock's skin only minutes after he himself had hidden it and made his way into the city. And he had chivalrously guarded the pelt until Sherlock had returned, saving him from potential discovery.
Sherlock tilted his head, watched him go, and thought of war.
War was what had given the man his limp, Sherlock deduced. Likely one of the territorial battles humans so often engaged in. From the tan lines on his wrists, barely visible in the moonlight, Sherlock assumed it was one of the struggles for power over distant, sunburned lands. He wondered why humans were so fond of fighting over territory so far away that most of their clan had never even seen it before. It was rather impractical. Selkies too fought battles for territory, but not over waters that were oceans away.
Sherlock stepped into his skin, sighing in relief as he fully reclaimed himself. He carefully pressed the skin down, feeling the blubber and subcutaneous tissue knit back into his body. His bones and muscles quietly shifted back to their more usual form once more. This was getting easier and faster with practice, he reflected.
Sherlock stretched out across the sand and yawned, his whiskers spreading artlessly. His flippers wiggled happily as a cool wave rushed over him, soaking his fur. He rolled onto his back in the sand, moonlight and sea water pooling on his belly. He lay there for a few moments just relishing the feeling of being in his own skin again. He always felt most at home literally on the edge of the sea, with the fascinatingly solid ground clinging to him and pulling down on him, and the salty ocean lovingly washing over and around him, buoying him back up.
The sensation of such strong contrasts always made him feel slightly giddy. He often wondered why more of his people didn't take advantage of their pseudo-amphibious forms, even with the risks. If nothing else, they would know far more about their land-walker cousins than they did currently. Mycroft had called the thought ridiculous, but Sherlock couldn't help but wonder what a world openly shared between selkie and human would be like.
He had made several lone trips onshore in his pursuit of studying human beings, their activities and movements, learning their speech, and about unique land-walker things. He used his chosen human name - Holmes - to stay unobtrusive, and wandered the underbelly of the city night after night. His lack of knowledge of human etiquette and customs shrank more and more each trip. He was nearly ready for the next step, no matter how much Mycroft disapproved. Knowledge was more important than the sake of sibling rivalry, more valuable than his own safety. And there was only so much he could learn from short night-time visits. Soon, he would have to immerse himself more fully, he remembered with a little thrill.
Sherlock was sure that it wouldn't be as difficult or dangerous as Mycroft kept trying to tell him. Mycroft was probably hoping that Sherlock would withdraw, and let someone else take his place in this mission, but he was being overly cautious. Sherlock wasn't naïve; he knew the risks. Sherlock counted it a blessing from Sedna that it had not been one of the cruel wastrels or witless brigands that he commonly met that discovered his pelt. But he also knew the potential. Not all humans were so terrible, as proved by the kindness and intelligence of the man who had stumbled across his skin.
Sherlock had gleaned three things from this incident. One, that he needed a better place to hide his skin if he was to continue his studies of human culture. Two, that this particular human might make a potential ally in his pursuits. Three, confirmation on his original hypothesis that not all humans were the cruel monsters bent on dominating all other living creatures that Selkie lore painted them as.
Shuffling his way further into the waves until he had enough water to swim, he began planning out his next trip onshore, when he would seek out the healer human who had kindly looked after his skin for him.
What did that fat walrus Mycroft know anyways?
End
Quick note: Sedna is an Inuit deity, goddess of sea creatures like seals, whales, etc
Regarding a continuation (or not) of 'Skins and Hearts': I intended for this to be only three chapters. While writing, I had a handful of ideas for further adventures of Selkie!Holmes and Dr. Watson. But, I also have a lot of unfinished WIP stories (for Holmes, Kiss Bang, Doctor Who, Fright Night, and my original work) that I intend to devote my full attention to, now that the bulk of SaH is done. I'm calling this complete for now. Feel free to keep this on your alert list, as I may eventually add more. However, I make no promises that I ever will; this will most likely be all that ever gets posted.
That said, if you want to encourage further work, make some suggestions! Throw ideas out there for things you would like to see happen. I might use your idea, I might not, but by all means, throw me some plot bunnies, and the likelihood of SaH continuing will increase tenfold. In the meantime, I have a lot more stories than just this, so go on and read some of my other work! Thanks so much for reading my little story, I hope you enjoyed it!