Chapter Five

John groaned at a sudden spark of pain that shot through his ribcage.

He opened his eyes to find that he was slumped against the wall, still sitting on the cabin bed of Sherlock's room. He must have fallen asleep.

He glanced down, looking for the source of pain. It took him a few minutes of assessing the situation to realize that...

... Sherlock had kicked him.

John's eyes travelled to the sleeping consulting detective. Sherlock was sprawled out on the small bed, one of his feet against John's side.

John sniffed and shoved Sherlock's ankle away. "Keep your feet to yourself," he muttered. Considering Sherlock was still asleep, John guessed it had been unconscious stretching or something similar. That being said, getting kicked in the ribcage was not particularly unpleasant.

John stretched and hauled himself to his feet, yawning widely.

It took him a few seconds to realize what was going on.

Or, rather, the lack of what had been going on.

The boat was completely steady. Everything was silent.

John looked around the cabin warily, waiting for the boat to lurch or a crash of thunder to announce that the thunderstorm was still raging around them.

Nothing.

"Please tell me that this thunderstorm is over..." John murmured, walking away from the cabin bed and making his way to the door.

It took him only a few seconds to get from the cabin back onto the stern of the boat, and it took him even less time to realize that what he had thought was actually true.

The thunderstorm was over.

The sky was a murky colour, covered with rain clouds, but the rain had stopped with the thunder and lightning. It was muggy and the air was heavy, making John take a deep breath to replenish his oxygen, but at least it seemed to be clear for now. There were a few birds flying across the sky and they were chirping happily.

John smiled faintly before going to visit with the Captain.

After checking up with the Captain, John meandered back to Sherlock's cabin. He was thinking to himself, and not altogether excited to wake up Sherlock and deal with the detective's ranting and rambling. (He'd nearly be back to his normal self now, John realized.)

It certainly had been a rather eventful day, if he could say so himself. He had expected the day to go not so smoothly, considering Sherlock and ferry were in the same sentence, but he hadn't expected... sea-sickness and thunderstorms.

"Sherlock," he said, walking back into Sherlock's cabin. "Sherlock, wake up. We're going to be there in about ten minutes."

When he received no reply, John sighed. He walked to Sherlock, grabbed the detective's shoulder, and shook it.

"Wake up," he repeated. "Are you listening? Boat ride's over."

"G'way," Sherlock slurred, curling up.

"Come on, Sherlock..."

Sherlock sighed heavily. He opened his eyes and John was meant with a glare.

"Hey," John greeted. "The thunderstorm's over and we'll be at the destination in ten minutes."

Sherlock's eyes darted away from John and around the cabin for a moment. He seemed to be realizing the thunderstorm was indeed over.

"Oh..." Sherlock murmured. He sat up carefully, flinching slightly.

"What?" John asked.

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "Just my stomach..."

"Does it hurt or are you still queasy?"

"Both."

Sherlock stretched, yawning. He swung his legs off the bed, stumbling to his feet. He seemed to regret it, paling slightly, and John was all prepared to grab Sherlock's arm and the bin in a single moment, but Sherlock seemed to regain control a moment later.

"Maybe you should stay sitting..." John suggested.

Sherlock sighed after a moment before sinking back into a sitting position. He was still pale, his hair was unkept from the nap, and he looked more withdrawn than usual.

"We'll be on dry land soon enough," John said conversationally, trying to improve Sherlock's mood.

Sherlock only nodded slightly, resting his head on his hand.

"Well, this has been an exciting day, hasn't it?" John asked aloud.

Sherlock gave him a very nasty look. "Really, John? I hadn't noticed."

John smiled faintly. "Well, it could always be worse."

"How."

"Er... well..."

Sherlock snorted, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, it could be worse, but I'm not sure how at the moment. Oh! There could be a tornado!" As soon as John said it, he immediately wished he hadn't. "Not to jinx it or anything."

"Yes, John. We still have the ride back yet."

"Oh... That's true. I'd forgotten..." John trailed off. "But, we have a case to solve now!"

"True."

"That has to help."

Sherlock nodded, looking up. "I just hope it's not a dull case. It better be worth this," he gestured to the boat.

"Considering it's you, nothing is ever not dull," John said.

"Well, it's hardly my fault."

"No. The genius is never to blame..."

"Exactly."

"Even though that genius gets sea-sick."

"Righ-" Sherlock stopped talking, returning his glare at John.

John only laughed.

So, Sherlock Holmes, sea-sickness, and a thundestorm. I write the most obscure ideas, and yet, people like it. So, THANK YOU, so much for the favs and follows and reviews that accompanied this story. Hopefully you enjoyed the ferry ride more than Sherlock and John did. =p

Thanks!