John could feel himself being measured, weighed in the wake of his almost flippant response. He had almost expected violence in reply – given the situation thus far, it certainly wouldn’t have been unexpected – but instead he was subjected to a focused, almost predatory gaze for several long, tense moments. The other man replied, then, rattling off facts and assumptions, reaching out to tug John’s I.D. circles free and inspect them before he finished his mindboggling assertion and topped it off with what sounded like an earnest, if misplaced greeting.
It was through sheer force of will that John didn’t jerk away this time; he knew it wouldn’t help, would likely overbalance him before freeing his chain, but it still took effort to hold himself still. Shaking his head instead, once, sharply, John pitched his voice lower, taking on an almost conspiring tone. “Listen, what are you playing at? This can’t-“ He paused, shaking his head once more; there’s almost no way this was some kind of contrived plot – he simply doesn’t have any information that would be useful enough to bother, he wasn’t that kind of officer – and even if he were, had been mistaken for one, he can’t see how this would be effective in any useful capacity. Certainly, it could throw someone off balance through sheer confusion – it had done for him – and that was a recognized tactic, but John couldn’t see how any useful information could be parleyed from this particular scenario; it was entirely too absurd. No, as far as he could tell he hadn’t been captured in the traditional sense, but what that left was… far stranger, more disturbing.
“Either you’re mad”, he continued after a moment, thoughtfully, as if he was only just now truly considering the possibility, “I’m mad, or…” his eyes started to flicker down towards his shoulder – where he’s almost certain he had been shot, but didn’t feel as if it bore obvious signs of recent trauma, now – but he stopped himself before he could complete the motion. Meeting the captain’s eyes again, instead, he finished with an almost imperceptibly more subdued tone, “The last doesn’t bear consideration.”
A slightly uneven hint of a smile pulled at Captain Holmes’ lips, though his eyes were cool and sharp, his voice velvet over steel. “I have been accused of madness many times, Mr. Watson, and a number of other less savoury things, I assure you.” Eyes tracking down and to the side, Captain Holmes tilted his head and lifted one dark eyebrow. “Intriguing. To what can you be referring? If madness is the lesser worry in comparison, I think perhaps it does bear consideration; especially when you are a… guest… on my ship.” Leaning just a bit, as much for the hint of intimidation it might lend, as well as for practicality, he lowered his voice till none of the men on deck around him could have overheard without stepping closer. “You’re thirsty, tired, perhaps hungry; furthermore, you obviously have questions of your own. Give me your solemn word that you’ll conduct yourself in a… gentlemanly… fashion, and I will see that you’re treated commensurately.” His hesitation and the slight drawling edge he gave the word ‘gentleman’ was subtle, but Captain Holmes had plenty of experience with the actual behaviour of many who claimed the title of Gentleman; in truth, he could not use the word as it was generally meant without at least an internal sneer.
There was something under the captain’s words, in his tone, that was not quite a threat but spoke of a dangerous line not to be crossed. It was subtle, and it’s that very subtlety that alerted him to the truth of it; a man who told you how dangerous he was is the last one you have to worry about – one quietly confident in himself, however… John stiffened slightly at the initial reply and the posture that came with it – an almost-grin and cold, dispassionate eyes that held no madness /he/ could see, but every bit of will that told him any threat given could be expected to be carried out – for the moment biting his tongue, but raising a brow all the same at the other man’s dubious use of ‘guest’.
Holmes leaned in slightly, almost without pause, and John fought the urge to lean away again, to gain space, bowing to the impulse only so far as to turn his head slightly away, never breaking eye contact. The low tone carried easily at this distance as the other man finished his firm-handed ‘offer’. This time John couldn’t help the small, reactive snort, and he muttered, “Explaining that one would bring us back to my probable madness”, to himself in an undertone before inhaling, bracing himself further.
Head tilted away, still, John canted it slightly back, just enough to meet the other man’s eyes more squarely while maintaining what personal space he was able. He’s sure this sort of ‘offer’ would sound good to a panicked, hopeful captive, but he could see the barbs in it, the possible hooks under the bait that was never expressly offered. Lips tight, back straight, he let out a long, controlled breath that hitched faintly with the hint of an ironic laugh once or twice in its stream. Probably best to keep quiet and go with it, there’s really not much to be gained by calling the man on it – John was aware of just how precarious his position was, assuming as he had to, that this was really happening – but he had never been one to bow meekly to circumstance. His own voice low, but meant to carry his reply this time, John asks evenly, “That sounds reasonable enough, but was mostly a statement of fact, letting me assume what your ‘commensurate treatment’ might mean.” His lips turned up in a faint, wry smirk. “So what does it really mean, and what exactly do you expect me to trade for this… kind treatment?”
To his surprise and delight, Watson didn’t react at all the way Captain Holmes expected; though, in point of fact, the man hadn’t been entirely predictable from the moment of his capture – well, perhaps something of a mix between a rescue and a capture. If this trend continued, Captain Holmes thought he just might have to find a way to keep this fellow around even after he had satisfied Holmes’ curiosity about his origin, as well as his anomalous clothing and fascinating accoutrements.
Watson’s muttered words, clearly meant for himself, alone, were curious, as was his mostly-subtle smothering of humour at Holmes’ offer; but his actual answer, which was in the form of a question, had Captain Holmes’ brow arching before he could stop himself. Was he being mocked or was Captain Holmes’ captive cleverer than he seemed? Perhaps both!
Intrigued and entertained – and wasn’t that simply wonderful after the deadly boredom of the last few weeks – Captain Holmes considered his answer briefly. Several of the men standing guard shifted a bit restlessly; though used to their captain’s oddities, curiosity could only be tamped down so long.
First Mate Lestrade, standing with arms crossed about an average man’s height behind his captain, turned and muttered a slightly-growling, “Oi! Look sharp, there.” After which, the men straightened up and ready hands returned to sword hilts.
Seemingly ignoring this byplay behind him, Captain Holmes spoke in the same ‘just between us’ tone, watching his prisoner closely, eyes sharp with curiosity of his own. “What it means is you receive the courtesy of being treated more as a guest than a prisoner; food and water, dry clothing, and a bed in a cabin of your own. If possible, I’ll try to ransom you back to the Royal Navy, or possibly to your own people. In trade, you accept that I am the commander of this vessel, that my word is law here, and that you are subject to it as long as you’re aboard. I will expect you to answer my questions and give me your oath that you will not seek to cause trouble amongst my men or with my ship.” Pausing for just a moment, Holmes’ voice then took on the slightest hint of an edge beneath the quiet rumble as he went on. “If you go back on your oath, if you do not cooperate, then it’s to the hold with you. There you’ll be stripped and chained, given the bare minimum to keep you alive until such time as we reach a port where I can make some profit on what’s left of you by then.” Flicking his brows up almost playfully, though his expression remained unsmiling, Captain Holmes spread one hand graciously, the other resting on his sword hilt. “I should much rather you choose the former than the latter, myself, but the choice is yours, Mr. Watson.”
The look of surprise his reply apparently brought was strangely satisfying, but John held any reaction to it in, attention drawn away to the men surrounding them when a sharp order was given, resulting in a shifting of stances and weapons; it reminded him, again, that there were others present, other factors to keep in mind, each a danger of its own.
Still, it’s only a flicker in his attention before the captain had his full focus again, just in time for the other man to respond in a similar tone and volume to his last, though his eyes were sharper with it, tone little more foreboding as he got to the ‘stick’ end of his ‘offer’. Snorting sharply when the other man finished – he couldn’t help it, and didn’t try – John shook his head ever so slightly, faint smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh, I’m sure you would”, he agreed almost amiably, knowing tone in his voice, “much easier to get everything you want out of me to start, cooperation is so much simpler…” That certainly didn’t mean any kind of pleasant treatment was guaranteed to be his reward, or at least would continue to be once his usefulness ceased and their curiosity was sated.
At the very least, he knew what punishment might look like, now. (He didn’t regret that; it was better to know.) Huffing out a small breath of a laugh, John let his gaze drift past the other man, only distantly taking in their surroundings again. “Well, I did ask”, he muttered wryly to himself, the hint of an ironic grin pulling at his lips.
If it was madness – and that looked better for the answer the longer he thought about it (could you be self-aware about your own insanity?) – then it didn’t matter all that much what he actually did. If it weren’t… well, it still mattered very little what he did; the options were few and stark. He wondered briefly where he was, really, if this was all a creation of his mind – and what was wrong with him, precisely, that this would be the scenario it would choose – then let it go. Whatever this was, in the end, all he could do was see it through, now.
“I’m not in the habit of making promises I don’t intend to keep”, John said after a moment, eyes still distant, clearly thinking; considering everything the captain had said and how he said it. Even with the explanation, it still required him to make an ‘oath’ almost blindly, with no safeguards in the agreement; the terms were vague enough that he could literally be asked for anything. Not that John expected the terms really mattered – they were only for his edification; he had no leverage in this at all. All the same, he considered what his agreement could mean, and also what disobeying would bring him, on the balance deciding to be entirely honest.
Expression shifting to something more neutral, John met the captain’s eyes again, replying firmly: “I will decline any ‘law’ that goes against my character or obligations, but I won’t turn on you if you don’t give me reason to.” He was almost certain that wasn’t the answer desired, and he’d accept the consequences if it came to it, but John wouldn’t cross his own lines. There were few enough choices available to him at the moment; this was one he had, even if the results would be less than ideal. “If that’s not good enough…” he shrugged, tilting his head slightly with the movement in something like an aborted headshake, “then do what you feel you need to. I’m not exactly in a position to argue.”
Oh, yeah, I know… ;D
Lady Karasu 