Sherlock waited for Victor to return, running rocks through his fingers and trying to pelt the fish, trying to relax like he was able to before. When he only knew of the merman life, Sherlock had been bored, but had peace. He knew he was what he was meant to be, a merperson, destined to live a life under the ocean. But now he was uneasy, he couldn't lie still and think that he belonged where he was, because he didn't. He was trapped in the body of a merman when his heart ached to be among the humans, it seemed to be the only way for him to finally be happy. Then again, Mycroft was here to ensure that it never happened, that Sherlock would always live in doubt of himself, in misery until it was finally his turn to inherit the throne. When Victor returned he gave Sherlock his kelp shake, but the merman only poked at the straw and didn't drink much. He wasn't really in the mood to nourish this terrible form, he would much rather starve to death and sculpt legs out of the tail that stuck out of his body.
"I thought you wanted a kelp shake?" Victor asked. Sherlock groaned, he really hated being judged on everything he did.
"Yes, I did. Thank you." Sherlock snapped, still not drinking any.
"You're not drinking it." Victor pointed out.
"I'm so sorry. Shush Victor, I'm trying to think." Sherlock groaned. Victor sighed, but was silent, letting Sherlock go back into his head and think about his time on shore, with John, with Greg, being no more than a lowly servant but loving every second of it, in that boy's beautiful presence.
"What did he look like?" Victor wondered. Sherlock looked over at him in confusion, Victor had never asked about life on shore. Mycroft was under the impression that the more Sherlock talked of it the more he would want to return.
"John?" Sherlock asked, wrinkling his eyebrows in confusion. Victor nodded, leaning forward on his golden tail and staring at Sherlock in wonder.
"I want to know what made this boy so worthy of your heart." He agreed. Sherlock sighed, letting his head fall back on the coral and closing his eyes slightly, trying to imagine John on the dock, his short legs kicking through the small waves.
"He was...beautiful. Like a ray of sunlight molded into a human form. His skin was tan, his hair was golden, gleaming, sparkling. His teeth were as white as a pearl and his smile was unlike any other, his laugh was like music and his hands were so soft...he was more beautiful than any merperson I have ever seen, more gentle and more kind than any human I had met, he was more than anything and anyone I have ever known. And he loved me as well." Sherlock breathed, a small smile forcing itself on his lips as he imagined his John Watson once more.
"He sounds wonderful. Let him stay wonderful Sherlock, if you think the pain of being forgotten is bad, imagine what would happen if you were responsible for his death and he didn't even know why he deserved to die." Victor pointed out. Sherlock's eyes snapped open and his smile faded once more into the usual scowl, looking over at Victor in disgust.
"Did my brother tell you to say that? Do you have a script?" Sherlock growled.
"Your brother tells me to do a lot of things, and yes, that was one of them." Victor agreed. Sherlock groaned and fell back into his coral patch, rubbing his fingers against one of the lumpy earth rock and wondering if there was any way he might be able to walk again. If he was ever going to escape this pathetic water world.

The next couple of days were as tedious as the last, sitting in his coral and knowing that Victor was lurking somewhere in the weeds, attempting to give him personal space even though he knew perfectly well he was being watched all hours of the day. Victor wasn't what you would call stealthy really, maybe it was the fact that he was about a foot taller than the kelp growing from the ocean floor when he was sitting, or the fact that his golden tail stuck out like a sore thumb inside the masses of green and brown. It would only take Sherlock a sweep of his perimeter to find out where his stalker was hiding, and it was pretty annoying actually. If Victor wanted to watch him, he really shouldn't be pretending to be discrete. Then one day, this peaceful world of torture suddenly turned upside down. A shadow emerged on the top of the waves, blocking out the sun and submerging nearly half of their village in darkness. It was a roundish shape, but Sherlock knew enough to know that the Gods hadn't sent down a monster to swallow the sun or plague their land with darkness. No, he knew exactly what it was, and he thought that Mycroft did as well. It was a boat; the humans were taking off to sea. As soon as the shape appeared, Victor materialized at his side, trying to grab Sherlock's arm and pull him off to the castle.
"What are you doing, get off me!" Sherlock exclaimed, smacking Victor's hand away and gazing up at the boat.
"It's dangerous, there might be fishing nets!" Victor exclaimed.
"There are no fishing nets, it's docked, they've got the anchor down, someone on land is going on a journey." Sherlock snapped, swimming just above his coral as to get a better look.
"There are humans right above us?" Victor asked with a sort of curious tone to his voice, staring at the shadow on the waves as well. Sherlock smiled mischievously, looking to his bodyguard and wondering just how curious he was.
"Yes Victor there are, real humans, with legs, and feet. Don't you wish you could see one of them?" Sherlock asked excitedly, looking down on Victor, who was flicking his tail nervously though the water.
"No, it is my job to keep you safe, and I will do that. Humans are dangerous, and not only will you be endangering yourself, you'll be endangering him." Victor warned. Sherlock sighed, looking up once more at the ship and wishing that he could just poke his head around, see who was going where, see what exactly they were going for.
"Don't you think it's our responsibility to make sure they're not fishermen?What if they're to go on a long journey to catch fish, dragging their long nets over our water, where innocent civilians, women and children, could get caught and killed? Shouldn't we go up and make sure we're not in danger of that ship?" Sherlock asked with a gleam in his eyes. Victor looked at him uneasily, but hestared around the water, which seemed to be empty. Obviously they hadn't been the only ones that had spotted the boat; the civilians were probably all hiding, praying to King Neptune to save them all.
"It's my job to protect the people, but by bringing you up there, it could do more harm." Victor pointed out. Sherlock swam over to him, trying to look as convincing as he could, as innocent and helpless.
"Oh Victor, you know that you're the only one strong enough, brave enough, noble enough to make sure. All of the other soldiers cower in fear of the humans, only you are truly brave enough to spy on them, to make sure they will bring no harm to our carefree people." Sherlock insisted. Victor puffed out his chest a little bit more, looking at the ship with more confidence. What an absolute idiot, it took one complement and he would melt like butter.
"Well, you are right, but I need to watch you." Victor pointed out. Sherlock put a hand on Victor's shoulder, as if trying to be a supportive friend when in reality he was just trying to get Victor all wrapped up in his self-esteem. If Sherlock, his royal crush, was suddenly paying attention to him because he was so brave then obviously he had to live up to the expectation. And with a simple touch, Sherlock knew he could get what he wanted.
"Oh, I could come up with you as well, I won't go far. You can protect your people and watch me as well." Sherlock assured. "Just one peak, that's all we need." Victor sighed heavily, scanning the surroundings once more, as if not wanting to be seen even considering this.
"Fine, but only because the people could be in danger. And if you go so much as a foot away from me, I'll tow you straight back to Mycroft." Victor warned. Sherlock had to use all of his strength not to break into a smile, after so long of being trapped under here, under the watch of his 'body guard', he was going to the surface, and he didn't even need to be sneaky about it. Victor was going to escort him himself. Sherlock let his hand slide down Victor's arm for good measure, smiling at him and watching as his flawless cheeks glowed a bit red. He was such a moron.
"Alright then, what are we waiting for?" Sherlock asked excitedly, swimming ina wide circle excitedly, just to burn off some of this bent up energy. Victor groaned, but started to swim up to the surface. Sherlock scanned the towns as they swam up, just to make sure Mycroft wasn't watching. Mycroft couldn't be so easily seduced or tricked, he would know Sherlock's intentions the minute the story got out. But there seemed to be no one out, no one swimming through the streets or playing with the fish in the kelp fields. All was quiet. So Sherlock followed Victor's golden tail up to the surface, the ship getting larger and larger as they got closer, the sunlight starting to leak out from around it, lighting the water and warming it. As he went up, Sherlock felt more and more free, watching as his little town of captivity sunk lower and lower beneath him, he was going back up to the surface again, going to get his John. Victor's head popped above the surface first, Sherlock saw his tail stop and start to swim just around the ship, towards the dock. Sherlock put on another burst of speed, he couldn't wait to breathe the air, to see the humans and their fascinating contraptions, he simply couldn't wait to be on shore again. He considered giving Victor the slip, honestly it wouldn't be too hard, but he decided to take this slow. If Victor could be tricked now, he could be tricked again, maybe to a more extreme extent. Sherlock's head emerged from the water, into the bright sunlight, and he gulped his first breath of fresh air that he's had in months, closing his eyes slightly and basking in the warm sunlight. He was home. In front of him stretched the shore, the familiar sandy beaches, the dock on which he had first seen John, when he and John had their first real kiss, and when John drank the potion and forgot all of it. This dock seemed tobe the human contraption that started it all. Except now there was a long board leaning on it, a walkway for people to get from the ship to the shore, and there were boxes and crates and people milling around on their little legs, loading things on to the ship for the big journey. Sherlock scanned the crowd as much as he could, retreating into the shadows of the large boat so he wouldn't be spotted too easily. Unfortunately they all seemed like sailors, with sloppy wet clothes on and tattooed muscular arms. He didn't see Greg, or Harry, or Clara, but most to his disappointment he didn't see John. the village stretched out before him, the little wooden shacks of the commoners, the cobblestone streets on which he had first walked on, and in the distance rose the castle, where John probably was right now, where he was probably longing or writing or reading, not a care in the world.
"Sherlock!" Victor hissed, pulling Sherlock out of his fantasy. He was floating under the docks, listening intently and beckoning for Sherlock to join him. Sherlock groaned, but swam underneath the water so the sailors wouldn't see him as they went up and down the ramp, carrying crate upon crate on board. Sherlock's head popped once more into the air, but they were under the docks, hearing footsteps going overhead and seeing by the sunlight seeping through the cracks in the damp wood. Sherlock opened his mouth to complain that they couldn't see anything here when Victor held a finger to his lips and tilting his head to listen more closely to the conversations going on above. Sherlock followed his lead, hearing two unfamiliar voices above them, possibly sailors taking a break from loading and having a chat.
"So what's her name again?" asked one of them.
"Mary Morstan, princess of who knows where, they've been in contact with the king ever since the queen died. Obviously they're trying to poke their nose into their royal business, trying to get some unity if you know what I mean." said the other one with a little laugh.
"And why do we need to get her? I mean, can't she sail over here herself? If It's for her wedding I think they could spare the expenses and get their own bloody ship." The first voice whined.
"Come on mate, we're getting paid, why are you complaining? Besides, we're going to sail like royalty; they've stocked only the finest of meals and wine, the prince himself is to join us." The man insisted. There was a pause; obviously the other was trying to comprehend that. Sherlock flicked his tail excitedly at the mention of John; he was to be on this boat? So they weren't fishing, this was a trip.
"The prince is coming with us? I can't imagine him on a ship, seems too weak for the open sea." He decided. Sherlock scowled, how dare they call his John weak?
"Well, can you blame him? He said he wants to be the one to introduce her to their kingdom, after all, she is to be his wife." The man insisted. Sherlock didn't hear much more after that, his mouth dropped open in horror and he stared at the ocean waves lolling softly into the wooden pillars. A wife. John was getting married, and it wasn't to him. A WIFE! Sherlock smacked his tail against the water in anger and swam as fast as he could down to his home below, he didn't want to hear the rest of those stupid sailor's conversations, he didn't want to hear more about his John getting married. How dare he? Sherlock was suffering his entire life and John was going to go marry some foreign princess that he's never met before because their royal fathers were pen pals! Sherlock sunk back into his coral with a scream of anger, chucking one of his earth rocks as hard as he could at the school of fish roaming around. It angered him even more that he missed. Victor floated down a bit more calmly amoment later, looking upset for Sherlock's sake but relieved for his own.
"Sherlock..." he started, but Sherlock shut him up with a scowl.
"Don't you pretend to pity me Victor, don't even try." Sherlock growled.
"I'm not pretending, I know how much you love him, I know how much it must hurt." Victor insisted.
"You have no idea Victor, he was mine, we were together, we were in love and my stupid brother, ugh I'm going to kill him! This is all his fault, all of it!" Sherlock screamed, darting from his coral and uprooting some kelp that was growing nearby, sprinkling himself with wet sand and seashells. Victor looked very unsure of what to do, as if he wasn't prepared to handle Sherlock's sudden tantrum.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock I know you love him." Victor insisted, trying to float forward with a gentle hand of condolence, but Sherlock slapped it away.
"That's not the problem, it doesn't matter that I love him. It's that he loves me. He just doesn't know it and now he's going to marry some woman named Mary Morstan and there's nothing I can do about it! Victor, there has to be something I can do!" Sherlock insisted, feeling tears fall from his eyes and mix with the salty water. He didn't know if they were tears of sadness or tears of rage, either way they meant emotion, powerful enough to make him cry.
"Sherlock they're nothing you can do, you can't do anything except let him live his life and live your own as well." Victor insisted.
"Don't turn this into your desperate attempt to get a date with me, it'll never happen Victor, so just shut your barnacle crusted mouth and just let me THINK!" Sherlock screamed, bubbles of rage surrounding him as he flashing his tail dangerously though the water. Victor slunk back a little bit, looking as if he were about to cry, but didn't leave.
"If that's what you want. But if you want to talk about it, I'm always here." he insisted.
"I know you're always here, you're not necessarily a good hider." Sherlock pointed out. Victor sighed heavily and retreated to a patch of coral, just far enough to give Sherlock his space but close enough so he could keep a close eye on him. Sherlock growled in frustration, how was he going to think of a plan when Victor was constantly watching him? Ugh, if felt like those piercing blue eyes could read minds or something. So Sherlock tucked himself behind his usual patch of coral, so that Victor couldn't see him, and hugged his tail to his chest, running his fingers hatefully down his scales. So this is how it would be? He was a merman, John was a human, the love that could never blossom had turned into a beautiful flower, but an ice age had come and killed it down to the roots. Sherlock could never love him again, John would never know Sherlock had ever existed, and Sherlock was stuck in the darkness, under John's boat that was going to carry him off to meet his new wife. Someone he was going to love, and who was going to love him back, but not nearly as passionately as Sherlock could. She might marry him and become his bride and love him, but Sherlock could love him even more. His entire heart still belonged to John, and with only one single word he was willing to cut it out himself, just to prove that his life lay in John's hands. This Mary Morstan would never do that. That only reason she was able to love John was because she was a human, she had legs, and Sherlock had been born a merman. If he had legs, he could love John. But he ran his fingers over his horrible tail, over these bruise colored scales, and knew that he could never be human again. He was born a horrible mutant of fish and man, a poor excuse for an aquatic creature but still with enough human emotions to suffer in this eternal damnation. To know that if something had been different, if he had been born a human to a human family with legs and a future and a heart, he could be loved by John Watson once more. If he hadn't messed up his entire relationship, if he hadn't let Mycroft interfere, he would still be loved by John Watson, and he wouldn't have to watch the man he loved love someone else. But what to do? Obviously there had to be some way he could make up for this tragedy, obviously there was some way he could reclaim what was rightfully his. But what? What could he possibly do when he was stuck underwater? Sherlock stared up at the boat docked above him, and an idea popped into his head. He could destroy the boat. Without a boat, John wouldn't have anything to get the princess in. If the boat had gotten destroyed, that would at least give Sherlock a couple more days to think of a better plan. He looked around hopefully, at Victor who was still watching him, at the boat that was still anchored there, unknowingly. Sherlock would get it, he would pry the boards apart one by one and watch as all of their supplies went tumbling into the ocean. He would watch as John's future with Mary Morstan was put on hold.