[Sherlock opens his eyes with a gasp, taking in the skeleton across from him with wide eyes.
He doesn't remember falling asleep here. Was he abducted? Kidnapped? Drugged? What was the last thing he ate or drank? Are there puncture marks in his wrists? Elbows? Why is there a corpse in front of him? He feels woozy, and for a moment, he concludes that he must have been drugged --
-- until he smells the salt air, hears the creaking of the rigging, and feels the telltale, terrible motion of the ship under him.
His gloved hand flies to his mouth, and he lets out a stuttering cough. No, no, no no no, he's on a ship, and he gets seasick...!
(It's not the corpse that roils his stomach, it's the rocking boat.)
He doesn't stop to check the treasure chest, to see if it's real. He doesn't touch the rum. He doesn't have it in him to investigate this area -- he has to get above the deck, now.
If you're already up there, you'll see a tall man with dark hair, dressed well, clean-shaven, stumble to the edge of the boat and make a horrible noise off the side. Once his stomach's empty, and he's hanging limply over the rotten wood, he wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist, and gazes upward, toward the approaching dock.]
Land! Thank God.
...
...
Wait -- who's at the helm?
[Because they sure are approaching fast, and the crew sure looks very dead...! Sherlock straightens up, one hand on the side, still very necessary, to steady himself.]
Sherlock Holmes | Sherlock Holmes: Chapter One
[Sherlock opens his eyes with a gasp, taking in the skeleton across from him with wide eyes.
He doesn't remember falling asleep here. Was he abducted? Kidnapped? Drugged? What was the last thing he ate or drank? Are there puncture marks in his wrists? Elbows? Why is there a corpse in front of him? He feels woozy, and for a moment, he concludes that he must have been drugged --
-- until he smells the salt air, hears the creaking of the rigging, and feels the telltale, terrible motion of the ship under him.
His gloved hand flies to his mouth, and he lets out a stuttering cough. No, no, no no no, he's on a ship, and he gets seasick...!
(It's not the corpse that roils his stomach, it's the rocking boat.)
He doesn't stop to check the treasure chest, to see if it's real. He doesn't touch the rum. He doesn't have it in him to investigate this area -- he has to get above the deck, now.
If you're already up there, you'll see a tall man with dark hair, dressed well, clean-shaven, stumble to the edge of the boat and make a horrible noise off the side. Once his stomach's empty, and he's hanging limply over the rotten wood, he wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist, and gazes upward, toward the approaching dock.]
Land! Thank God.
...
...
Wait -- who's at the helm?
[Because they sure are approaching fast, and the crew sure looks very dead...! Sherlock straightens up, one hand on the side, still very necessary, to steady himself.]
Is anybody steering this ship?!