Chapter 12: Deep thought
Notes: I'm writing in class... I should be studying... paying attention... but, yeah, this was important. Maybe there will be a second chapter today (because class is boring and this is a good opportunity to write :D) So here is the next chapter, it's short and it's unbetad' so don't kill me when you see mistakes, tell me and I will correct it :).
John woke up with a heavy feeling in his head. Sherlock… That's right, and Mycroft, that bastard!
Dizziness was swirling in his mind when he stood up from a big bed with fluffy pillows and blankets.
Disorientated he looked around in the room, it was a nice room. The room had sand coloured wallpaper with a wooden floor.
The one thing that was missing were the windows.
What did Mycroft say again? Too tired of the drug he fell back on the bed.
He had to escape, but now he had to sleep first.
Sherlock was thinking, not just thinking, more like searching. Searching through his mind palace. Searching for deleted memories.
He had a twin brother, he could remember it, but the memories were vague. Vague memories of a vague past.
Now that he searched in his past, he remembered flashes of his real parents, the moment he returned, the curse, how everything felt weird.
He never felt like a merman, when he was a child he loved to go away from the waves.
Let himself dry up and search for things on the sand.
Until his other parents found him, a chance to get away, a chance to be less boring, to be a human, but humans were boring too.
The only one who wasn't boring was John and he didn't count. John was John, not just a boring human.
People were murdered, merpeople, and he could be the next one. When he was hunting for the killer, he was being hunted too.
Maybe he was the next victim. He remembered how John looked when he thought that he was dead.
The grief and anger on his face, how he thought that this was a sick joke… again.
John should know his secret. He never tried out the curse, he didn't dare to do it, but he was sure that John would hate him.
If he was hunted, John would never know. John would hate him, and that was why he had to tell his secret to John.
John loved him, but it was better to die than to live like this.
If someone had told him he would have feelings like this, he would have laughed.
Feelings were for sentimental people, but this was for John, only John.
He slowly leaved his mind palace, when he opened his eyes and looked around in the bathroom, he noticed that the bathwater was cold; How long had he been thinking? He moved his grey, silver, blue-ish tail out of the way to reach the plug.
The bad was getting empty, but it was too slow, he had to talk with John immediately.
Clouded by his past, he looked at how the water was seeping away.