Trust Issues

A Man Overboard

That morning John really felt the effects of his pillow less sleep. His neck was extremely sore, and when he woke up it cracked very loudly. Instead of doing the chores, John’s mental plan was to take a shower, a long shower, and supposedly miss breakfast. Then he could simply make his way to the captain’s quarters and be done with it. When everyone went up the stairs, yawning and groaning, John went down the hall to the empty showers, where he took the longest shower of his life. Even through the sound of the rusted pipes and splashing water, John could hear when they finally made their way to breakfast. He got dressed quickly, toweling his hair off and leaving the steamy room. When he made his way down the hall, to his horror, Anderson was leaning on the wall next to the stairs, very casually, as if he wasn’t there to throttle John.
“Morning.” He muttered with a small smile. John cursed, walking as fast as he could to the dining hall, hoping Anderson didn’t have a pistol or something. The last thing John needed was to get shot in the back. Greg looked at him expectantly, two trays in front of him, one waiting for John.
“Well?” he asked.
“Anderson’s by the stairs, waiting.” John said as he sat down. Greg frowned, looking down at his waffles with disappointment. John was shocked they had something as good as waffles on this boat, and it was amusing to think of some of the pirates flipping them. John ate silently, watching the door. Anderson came in a little bit later, when he was sure John wasn’t going to leave. No one seemed to notice his arrival, but John was willing to bet that more than half of them were on his side.
“We have to tell him somehow.” Greg muttered.
 “I know. Maybe you can do it.” John guessed.
“Maybe, but wouldn’t it be a little odd talking about relationships with the captain? He’s not exactly my type.” Greg pointed out. John smiled pretending to be amused, but knowing whatever they did they could be hurt or even killed. John never thought that his own crew mates were going to be danger, but apparently they were. Anderson was no surprise; he didn’t seem to like John as soon as he first saw him, on the dock in Selsey. The rest of breakfast was silent; the two didn’t really have much to talk about now. When it was over, they said a brief goodbye until heading their separate ways, John to the forge and Greg to whatever part of the ship needed maintenance. The forge was dark and gloomy, only ashes remained of the fire in the fireplace. John stacked some more wood into the fire, lighting a match and watching the logs go up in flames. He went back to step one, melting some more iron into the mold and waiting around for it to cool. He hoped Greg was talking to Sherlock. He hadn’t exactly gotten a straight answer from him about talking, but John hoped he would come through anyway. When the iron had cooled into the right sword shape, John fixed another handle onto it and started pounding once again. His arm burned from the days in the forge, his muscles straining from all the hard work, but he pushed on, knowing he had a responsibility. He couldn’t hear much over the pounding, but he was listening for anything that might suggest something new was happening on the deck. Maybe something like Anderson having to walk the plank. That would be very convenient, but John doubted that would be his punishment. When lunch came, John found Greg waiting in the line for the pulled pork sandwiches, probably the last of the pigs they had found in Selsey.
“Did you tell him?” John asked hopefully.
“No, you know who was watching me like a hawk. Apparently he knows we’re trying to communicate.” Greg said. It didn’t take John long to figure out who you know who was, since Anderson still hadn’t shown up. John didn’t see that as a negative, but he knew if he tried to go on deck he’d be stopped.
“I’m sure we’ll figure out a way.” Greg assured.
“What other way is there, unless one of us sneaks up in the middle of the night?” John asked.
“I doubt we’d get away with that, the captain will shoot us first and ask questions later.” Greg pointed out.
“I have no doubt about that.” John sighed. “What then, just let Anderson get away with this?”
“Well think about it, you’re never going to see him anyway, what’s the big deal? Anderson can skip meals and stay up all night watching for us if he wants, but there’s no point telling the captain if you and he are never going to see each other alone again.” Greg pointed out. John nodded; he did make a fair point. There was nothing to tell as long as Sherlock didn’t try to kiss him, and if that happened then John could tell him before hand and stop it. Maybe this whole thing didn’t have to be spy work; if John just stayed away from Sherlock everything would be fine.
“That works.” John agreed. Greg looked proud of himself for having solved the whole debate, as if he made more problems than he actually figured out. John shook his arm out, the entire thing feeling extremely sore. All the effects of the pirate life were catching up to him, and to his disgust he found that there were calluses on his hands, effects from all of the manual labor he was doing. John groaned, wanting nothing more than a nice hot bath and a comfortable bed. Instead he was forced to go back to the forges, hammering the day away until it was finally time to sharpen. He was just about bored to death when there was a shout from the deck, loud enough to be heard over the grinding of sword on stone. John stopped what he was doing, hearing a lot more running and yelling, as if something bad had happened. John put down the sword and ran outside, fearing the worst. If Anderson had done anything to Greg John would personal throw him off the side. But when he got out into the sun, he saw both Greg and Anderson along with the rest of the crew rushing around. John made it just in time for Mike to throw something over board, looking like a life preserver.
“What’s going on?” John asked the first person he saw. They didn’t answer, of course, so he ran to the side to see for himself. To his amazement he saw a man, seemingly unconscious, floating next to the boat on a piece of broken wood, like a destroyed piece of a hull. A man over board, probably from a sunken ship. John was amazed yet terrified, how where they supposed to get him up? Obviously the life preserver wouldn’t help since he wasn’t moving much. John hoped he wasn’t dead. He saw Greg hanging over the railing, trying to get a better look, so he ran around the small crowd of people to stand next to him.
“Who do you think it is?” John asked.
“Haven’t the faintest.” Greg shrugged.
“Someone get the captain!” someone called. John looked at Greg, deciding whether or not it should be one of them to get Sherlock, but Anderson was jogging over to the door before either one of them could move. He knocked on the door, opening it immediately after, and not long after them Sherlock was striding across the deck, his trench coat flapping behind him dramatically and Anderson at his heels like an obedient puppy.
“Out of the way!” Sherlock called, and the men parted, leaving space for him to look over the railing. “Unconscious, send a rowboat down and get him out of the water. Bring him to the hospital room.” Sherlock decided after one short look.
“Yes sir.” Anderson said, and he made his way over to one of the rowboats. “Stamford! Lower me!” he called, and Mike came stumbling out of the crowd, all struggling to get good spot to observe from. Mike lowered the row boat, now with Anderson in it, with a rope pulley system that looked brittle, as if it would snap any second. Anderson didn’t look worried though, he looked determined, but John half hoped the rope snapped and he drowned underneath the rowboat. Unfortunately they touched down peacefully, the waves slightly knocking the boat around, but Anderson didn’t seem to mind. He rowed the short distance to the unconscious stranger, who still hadn’t shown any signs of knowing that he was close to colliding with a pirate ship. Anderson seemed to be saying something, but John couldn’t hear him from the distance, so he could only guess it was things to try to get him to wake up. When the stranger didn’t move, Anderson resorted to pulling him by the arms, dragging the man seemingly painfully over the side of the boat. When he was safe and sound, face against the bottom of the rowboat, Anderson took up the oars and started to row back to the pulleys. After a lot of heaving and pulling, Mike and two other men were able to lift the rowboat back to the ship’s rails, where Anderson pulled the man into a kind of one armed firefighter carry and step out easily. John and Greg were the closest to the action, and now John could make out details of the man. He had reddish, short brown hair, cut in a sort of military fashion, with a small stubble beard as if he had been on the open seas for a while. He looked nice enough, but John was willing to bet there was no trusting anyone you found floating in the middle of the ocean. Sherlock pushed past everyone again, kneeling beside the man and asking him loudly to wake up. There was still no response, and, getting impatient, Sherlock started to slap his face lightly. Nothing worked still, so he checked for a pulse in the stranger’s neck.
“He’s alive, but barely so, Mr. Lestrade, if you could please bring this man to the hospital room and watch him?” Sherlock commanded. Greg nodded, scrambling forward as if he didn’t make it on time Sherlock would pick someone else to take his place.
“Sir, I can’t carry him by myself.” Greg decided, seeing that the man was a lot bigger than he was.
“Mr. Smith, help him!” Sherlock decided. Another man came forward, picking up the stranger at his shoulders and leaving Greg to carry his feet the best he could. John noticed that his friend was struggling against all of the weight, but John couldn’t do anything to help without the captain’s permission. Once they started walking though, Greg seemed to have a better handle on things, able to walk backwards across the deck. But John knew that walking down the steps would be another challenge. Sherlock got back to his feet, looking around at the staring crew with confusion. Anderson watched John suspiciously, as if he was about to blurt out what was going on in front of all these onlookers. Sherlock’s eyes met John for a moment, but looked away swiftly, as if it was too much for him to look at John now. It was different when Sherlock was with the entire crew than with only John. He was more threatening; there was no happy sparkle in his eyes that was present whenever John saw him alone. He definitely knew he was in charge, holding his head up with pride. Next to Sherlock, Anderson didn’t look too threatening.
“You are all dismissed, back to whatever you were doing.” Sherlock decided at last. John didn’t want to go back to the forges just yet; he wanted to see how the man was doing, if he was going to live or not. This was definitely something new in his life, a man overboard, now that would be a story to tell his family back home. But he obeyed Sherlock’s orders, walking back to the dark forges and continuing his sharpening. When dinner came, John didn’t see Greg there, so that must mean he was still in the hospital room with the stranger. John though that he should bring Greg some food, because that was obviously the right thing to do. In his head though he didn’t care about the right thing to do, he just wanted to see what was going on with the stranger. He grabbed two trays and headed out of the dining hall, trying to find which door the hospital room was in. He picked the first door next to the showers, which seemed like a good place to start, and to his relief it was a room with cots lined on the walls, tables full of tissues, bandages, and other medical supplies. In the middle of the room the stranger lay under white blankets, asleep as usual. Greg was dozing off himself in a chair next to the bed, leaning heavily on his elbow and snoring softly. Of it wasn’t the hospital room, John would’ve knocked his elbow out from underneath him and laughed as he screamed, but instead he tapped his shoulder lightly until Greg started to stir.
“Sleeping on the job probably isn’t the best thing to do if you want a gold star.” John guessed, handing him a tray of the food. Tonight it was baked ziti, which was to be tested for edibility. John walked around and sat on the bed on the other side of the man. Up close John could see that he wasn’t very old, twenty eight at most, but he had obviously been a pirate for a while. His skin was tanned and his hands were calloused, just like John’s were. There were scars on his exposed arms and a few across his face, battle wounds apparently.
“Has something like this ever happened to you before?” John asked.
“This is a first.” Greg admitted through a yawn.
“Is he breathing?” John added. Greg held his hand underneath the man’s nose, feeling for breath escaping.
“Yes. I imagine he’ll wake up sooner or later, his pulse has gone to almost normal.” Greg guessed. John hoped he woke up and wasn’t in a coma or something.
“Must be starving.” John guessed.
“Nothing we can do about that until he wakes up.” Greg pointed out. John nodded, taking his first bite of his own food. It was okay, a little bit crunchy, but edible.
“Did Sherlock say anything to you?” Greg asked.
“Nope. I guess there isn’t anything to say, until he tells the whole crew the plan. We should be there in what, two days or so.” John guessed.
“Already?” Greg asked with excitement.
“I think so, he said about a week three days ago.” John pointed out.
“Awesome.”
“Is this the first time you’ve been on an off ship adventure?” John asked.
“Other than raids yes. We’ve never been after a certain artifact before.” Greg admitted with excitement.
“Well this one seems pretty cool, I’m sure you’ll like it.” John assured.
“Why not tell me now?” Greg pleaded.
“I probably shouldn’t, it seems like the captain’s job.” John pointed out. Greg frowned, but took another bite of his ziti.
“How about Anderson, anything from him?” Greg asked.
“He didn’t bother me, but then again, neither did Sherlock.” John pointed out.
“Maybe Anderson fed him some lies, like that you didn’t like him anymore or you thought he was a miserable captain and was plotting to kill him.” Greg guessed.
“Well, the second one seems highly unlikely, but that sounds like a very Anderson like thing to do.” John guessed.
“So you do like him then?” Greg asked.
“No! That’s not what I said at all!” John defended.
“Oh come on, I know there’s some part of you that really wants to be back on that dock.” Greg teased.
“If there is I can’t find it.” John debated.
“But you must have wanted the almost kiss in the captain’s quarters right? You said that Mike had ruined it.” Greg pointed out. “I think you found it mate, but you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
“Obviously I can’t do anything about it anyway, so I guess I have no choice anyway, not with Anderson watching me like a hawk.” John sighed.
“Wonder if you’re called into his office, or if he comes to you? Anderson may be able to stop you, but definitely not the captain.” Greg pointed out.
“Well I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.” John shrugged. There was a bit of silence, they both ate their food while thinking of the next thing to say. John hoped Anderson was standing at the staircase, waiting for John to try to sneak through when he was actually sitting in the hospital room. John hoped he was starving. But John didn’t doubt at all that Anderson had told Sherlock things that weren’t true, like that John wasn’t into him again, or that he was only playing a part in the relationship for the gold. John hoped Sherlock wasn’t stupid enough to fall for that, but he supposed they didn’t know each other well enough to make assumptions. Who knows, maybe Sherlock was just pretending to like John so that he stayed on the ship? It was possible considering John had been debating whether or not to leave before. Sherlock was definitely good at that part, he had convinced John once, who’s to say he won’t do it again? John didn’t want to trouble Greg even more with his relationship issues, which John could only imagine were the second most boring thing in the world, right after mopping. He was also wondering if Greg was right though, was there a part of him that wanted to be back on that dock? As great as the kiss had been, his very first, making his heart practically stop, it wasn’t because of Sherlock, it was because of the whole drama of it all. They would’ve both been hanged if they were caught, and in the sunset it was practically irresistible. Part of John wished that kiss had been sincere and not some act in a whole play of betrayal and kidnapping. Sherlock had just come into his life and twisted it all up, in good and bad. But three weeks before if someone had told John he would be sitting with an unconscious man on a pirate ship eating ziti and considering kissing the male captain, John would’ve pushed them into the nearest ocean in an attempt to get their head on straight. There was a small knock on the door and both Greg and John turned instantly to see who it was, fearing it was Anderson. To Greg’s delight and John’s annoyance it was Sherlock, not Anderson. He wasn’t wearing his trench coat now, but a white button down shirt and jacket.
“Sorry to interrupt your silence, just coming to see how he is.” Sherlock said with a small smile. John didn’t mind his coming in, just as long as Greg stayed.
“His pulse has increased sir; I’m willing to guess he’ll wake in a couple of hours.” Greg guessed.
“When he does wake, he’ll need water and food, he’s probably very low on both of those, so I’ll need at least one of you two to stay here with him. It’s no problem if you both stay too; I know the bunks can be intimidating.” Sherlock said with a smile. John smiled back, and for a second he couldn’t remember what they were talking about. Sherlock was looking at him now, only him, as if the man and Greg weren’t there at all. But after a moment of eye contact Sherlock broke it, looking back at the man with a look of sadness in his eyes. John couldn’t tell if it was about the man or not, but John had a sneaking suspicion that Sherlock hadn’t wanted to break the eye contact.
“Well, I best be off, thank you, both of you, you’re relieved of your evening duties.” Sherlock said, and with that he walked back out of the room. John and Greg sat in silence until they were sure he was gone and out of ear shot.
“What was that about?” Greg asked immediately.
“I have no idea, did you see him break eye contact?” John pointed out.
“There is definitely something going on here, you should get up there and find out.” Greg suggested.
“No way, but that would’ve been our chance to tell him about Anderson.” John pointed out. Greg cursed silently. They had been so nervous that they completely forgot about Anderson’s threats. John felt a strange sense of depression, as if his happiness was relying on Sherlock’s acceptance.
“Maybe he only looked away because I was here.” Greg guessed.
“Ya, maybe. I mean, everyone has to break eye contact eventually.” John agreed, but they were both making up stories to make themselves feel better. Now that it was like he was gone, John wanted to be with Sherlock even more.
“He’ll come around.” Greg sighed. John nodded in hope, if this had anything to do with Anderson, John would turn rabid. Anderson had no right to intervene in things like relationships, all he cared about was the gold, and if someone got more that he did he’d do anything to stop it. But John was doubting that he was even going to get gold for his efforts, it wasn’t like he was here voluntarily.
“How much do you guys get paid anyway?” John asked with curiosity.
“Not much, like fifteen to twenty five.” Greg shrugged.
“That’s more than I make in two weeks back home, and we’re considered wealthy.” John pointed out. Greg didn’t say anything; he was finishing up his dinner. John was long done with his, but he wasn’t going to get rid of his plate unless Greg was done too. Once Greg was finished they went back to the empty dining hall and Greg led the way behind the counters. Around the corner, to John’s amusement, was the kid that had attacked him the first time, David, washing the dishes, which had been his punishment. They sat their dirty plates down with smiles and David just scowled at them. Satisfied, John and Greg went back to the hospital room where the man hadn’t moved at all, of course. John was exhausted, but he wasn’t going to fall asleep yet, although he was very excited about the blankets and pillows this bed had.
“He looked happy.” John guessed about David.
“It was so good to punch the lights out of him.” Greg said with a longing smile.
“He’s a jerk I assume.”
“You’ve met him, he threatened you, I think you know he’s a jerk.” Greg pointed out.
“Well I’m glad he’s in trouble this entire week.” John decided.
“He deserved it.” Greg agreed.
“I wonder when the captain is going to tell all you guys about what’s happening.” John said.
“I hope soon, but probably on the eve of the adventure.” Greg guessed.
“You’ll love it; I can’t wait to see your face.” John laughed. Greg smiled excitedly, John knew he wanted to find out much more than all of the people on the boat since John had been telling him.
“I can’t believe you’ve been here for almost a week, it’s like I just found you on top of my bunk.” Greg sighed, as if he was going back to the good old days.
“It really hasn’t been that long.” John pointed out.
“I think it has been, it feels like it.” Greg decided.
“Well, that’s great.” John said just to make him happy.
“You know what, since I don’t have to do stupid evening duties I’m going to bed early.” Greg decided after a moment of silence.
“Sounds great, I’m so tired of going to bed at twelve and waking up at one.” John agreed.
“It’s not that bad.” Greg defended.
“It feels like it.” John pointed out, lying in the white cotton sheets and putting his head on the pillow, a feeling that had been unknown to him for almost a whole week. It felt amazing.
“Get the lamp.” Greg muttered from his own bed. John leaned over to the only light source that was on, blowing out the light and letting them both fall into the best sleep they’ve had in a long time.