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I wrote a thing last night....it was supposed to be a short one shot...now it’s gonna be at least three chapters...the boys demand I tell their story.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I wrote a thing last night....it was supposed to be a short one shot...now it’s gonna be at least three chapters...the boys demand I tell their story.
The MerLock Conspiracy - Mer!Sherlock Havily inspired by: Strandloper Series by @consultingzoologist
New Fic - merMAN
Oops, I mer!locked. And believe me when I say there is a shit tonne more where this came from. So if you happen to like mer!lock, then you're in luck.
So click that link because I know you want to.... http://archiveofourown.org/works/1072221
Summary:
Lore says that a kiss from a mermaid can save a sailor from drowning. And even if this preposterous fable was of truth, would it apply to a merman?
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“For the last time, John, I am a merman. Not a mermaid.” Sherlock dipped down beneath the glassy seawater before reappearing on the other side of the dock, his annoyance visible in the crease of his frown.
“Could’ve fooled me.” John spoke the words under his breath, but the mythical creature’s hearing was too perceptive to not pick it up.
“And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?”
Well, what harm ever came from getting sassy with a mermai… merman? “It means that with those luscious curls, sharp cheekbones, pouty lips, and the ability to change your mind at any given moment it’s no wonder I keep calling you a mermaid.”
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Yeah? You feeling the mer!lock loving yet??? I plan on writing some sort of mer!lock smut, I just have to figure out the logistics of how that would actually happen first, lol. It's not easy to just spring a dick up on a mermai...merman. But I'll figure it out, I'm sure of it. Maybe. Probably not. YAY FOR CONFIDENCE!!!
Mer!Lock - Beached 2 WIP
“That song you sang was beautiful last night.” John tried to recall the notes. The tune slowly came to him, John humming the tune. He knew some of the notes were wrong; the human vocal chords could only produce so much.
Sherlock looked up from the seahorse carving clutched in his left hand. John was trying to sing the lullaby he had sung last night. He would completely skip over the clicks that created the tempo of the lullaby, but he got most of the melody right. Is that what John had been talking about all this time? The lullaby Sherlock had sung him? Sherlock thought for a moment about whether or not he should sing the lullaby again. If he did, John would be compelled to go to bed, but John had just gotten out of bed and Sherlock didn’t sleep and had nearly died of boredom as John slept, so putting him to sleep right now was not an option.
John kept repeating the tune, humming away and correcting himself as he went. Sherlock wanted to sing along with him. Maybe the half-shark could sing a different song? Sherlock knew lots of songs. But what could he sing to John? He couldn’t sing the one that made human’s suicidal. Or even the one that made human’s homicidal, even if it was the half-shark’s favourite tune. Singing either of those songs would mean John would go away, possibly for good, and Sherlock didn’t think he’d be able to get back to the ocean without giving himself more injuries without John’s assistance. He couldn’t sing him the song that those insufferable and inferior mermaid’s sang to get human men to copulate them. He’d made that mistake once and only once hundred of years ago. The moment that human male had tried to shove it’s fifth appendage up his ass Sherlock had snapped its neck, ripped off its head, ripped off its fifth appendage, then proceeded to fill him stomach with sailor. Human never sat well in his digestive track, making him feel bloated and crampy. After all the human had worked its way out of his system Sherlock had hunted down those mermaids and gutted all of them open with his fingers. He’d fed their remains to his brethren of full-sharks so no human would come across mermaids, those were the rules amongst half-humans.
But that still left him wondering what he could sing to John. He hadn’t sung many songs over the years, finding humans too boring and dull to even want to deal with them. But when he got especially bored, Sherlock would hunt down a fishing boat and sing his homicidal tune to the occupants and watch all the creative ways they’d go around killing each other. His favourite was the man who had harpooned his entire crew, weeping like a babe once Sherlock stopped singing and he realised what he had done. Sherlock had laughed at the pathetic human, and then lured him off the ship with a song that drew humans to him but they wouldn’t want to copulate with him. The non-copulation was very important. Sherlock could use that song and lure John to him. But John was already so close; would the song make him come any closer? Would it make John get in this basin with him? What would Sherlock do once John was in the basin with him?
The bath had filled a little more than John had intended, having lost himself in humming. Not ceasing the tune, John reached over and turned off the tap. He dunked the clean towel into the water and placed it over the exposed tail, making sure not to touch the dry skin as he smiled at Sherlock’s appreciative chirps. Still humming he moved back into his previous position. He should probably get up and fix them some breakfast soon. But honestly, John didn’t want to leave the half-shark right now. He liked the company. Even if it was mythical company.
“Jarn.”
John looked up, his humming stopping. “Did I get the tune right, Sherlock?”
“Jarn.” Sherlock repeated.
“Yes, I’m paying attention. Are you hungry? I think I’ve got more milk in the fridge, but I’m out of fish. I’ll have to go to the market and get some later on. Or maybe I can get it delivered. Yeah, that sounds like a…” John stopped speaking abruptly the moment Sherlock began singing.
Sherlock sung his luring song, eyes locked with John’s. The effects of the tune were almost instantaneous. John’s eyes lowered to half mast as he unbuttoned the top of his flannel pyjamas slowly, in a trance. Sherlock scooped all the shell carvings out from the bottom of the bath and placed them carefully on the bathroom floor. By the time he had got them all out, along with the seahorse, John had stripped his shirt off and was pulling his bottoms off with it. With nothing but his pants on, John climbed gingerly into the tub.
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A/N: Tumblr does not like it when you copy and paste from word, so forgive me on the weird formatting. But Dun Dun DUN!!! What's ole mer!lock gunna do to poor John?? I'll probably post another sneak peak later on when I get close to the end of this installment, keep you craving more, lol. And I swear I'm guna get round to drawing Sherlock so you can see how scary he looks in my head, a true preditor, I hope that comes off a bit in this WIP...