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"I can't really reach so far and get your hand. I can't stand on my tail," Jon says, looking at the other expectingly. He sits near the coastline, but the water still reaches his hip bone and splashes against his side.
"Do you have hip bones at all?" Sherlock asks, voicing what has been a silent observation until now. His head is slightly tilted as he studies the marvellous fins, which reflect the sunlight and glisten in a whole palette of colours. He's never able to describe them in less than a dozen words. Jon's tail has all the colours one associates with the ocean, and Sherlock is always mesmerized by its ability to appear different depending on the light conditions.
"Have what?" Jon's eyebrows are raised - he's never heard that word before, but for a moment, he wonders if humans require something they call "hipbones" (likely one of their gadgets) to enter the sea. "Do you need some... hipbones... to swim?" he asks silently as his heart sinks.
"I, uh, yes... but, uh..." Sherlock is perplexed - it's not a question he's expected to have to answer one day, not in a million lifetimes. "Nevermind. I don't need another pair at the moment," he says to end the peculiar conversation but intends to explain to Jon sooner or later what hip bones are - when he is not about to enter the water. To his relief, Jon simply nods, although Sherlock can tell he is still feeling clueless.
He is a few feet away from the merman - even dipping his toes takes a lot of effort because he is scared - frightened, terrified - but he knows he needs to do this. He has decided to do it today. He takes a deep breath and steps forward, but his heart beats so fast in his chest that he starts feeling dizzy already.
He pauses.
"Nothing can happen to you." Jon smiles at him, and Sherlock's heart flutters a little. Jon has the softest of smiles, the kindest of faces, and he can't help feeling a little lightheaded in moments like this.
"I know," he finally replies. He truly does - it's the main reason he wants to enter the water - he refuses to continue being scared without a good reason, and he trusts Jon with his life.
After a moment, he approaches the merman, who raises his arm to take Sherlock's hand. Strangely enough, merpeople feel like humans to him - their upper half is warm to the touch despite being cold-resistant.
"I can swim in the cold Arctic waters without batting an eye! I could live there if I wanted to," Jon once told him with immense pride on his face. It was also the day Sherlock learned that Jon loves sunbathing and that only his tail needs to stay wet. "It hurts otherwise. It's almost unbearable."
Sherlock smiles back, takes Jon's hand, and finally steps into the water. It's not deep enough yet for him to faint, but each little wave raises the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. They may not have the strength to topple him over and carry him away, but he'd be a fool to underestimate the might of the ocean - it's a monster to him, vast and eager to swallow him whole.
But he is no longer alone. He has an ally now - the strongest ally of all against his biggest fear, a man who is one with the waves, whose very being is made from the same essence as the water he so much fears. Sherlock cracks his eyes open - he doesn't remember when he has closed them at all, and all he sees is Jon's radiant face. The merman reaches up, takes hold of Sherlock's other hand, too, and then pulls him in until the water reaches his hips.
"I can't-" Sherlock freezes, squeezing his eyes shut again. He gasps for breath, and the only reason he is still conscious is Jon - there is comfort in knowing he cannot drown no matter what, and he decides to focus on this.
"Would you like to leave?"
Sherlock says, "No."
Only a few steps further, then Jon lets go of his hands and wraps his arms around Sherlock's waist. "You can put your hands on my shoulders," he says quietly, "I will always stay above water. You can trust me on this."
It takes Sherlock a moment to listen and follow, and his movements are hesitant and choppy, but he eventually wraps both arms around Jon's neck with an almost suffocating force. Yet Jon doesn't mind - he chuckles and begins stroking Sherlock's back. The water covers their bellies, and Sherlock is still conscious, albeit not very responsive, but the gesture has a calming effect. "You can close your eyes and lean your head on me until you get accustomed to this," Jon says again, and Sherlock follows.
They linger. Sherlock doesn't relax, but his breathing slows down after some time. He tries to speak, but only desperate sounds leave his lips. Yet still, he is conscious, and this hasn't happened for over a decade.
"Should we go deeper?" Jon asks after a while, and even though Sherlock hesitates at first, he whispers a "yes." When he no longer feels the ground under his feet, his breath quickens again, and he clings to Jon with a desperation he'd otherwise find humiliating, but he stays awake.
"You could still feel the bottom if you stretched your legs," Jon mutters again. "The water would only reach your neck. But even if we were in the middle of the ocean, thousands of kilometres away from the shore, you would be safe with me. Even if you suffered a shipwreck in the fiercest of storms, at the mercy of the tallest of waves, you would be safe with me. Nothing can happen to you with me in the water."
Sherlock cannot respond but gasps, and his grip around the other tightens, but it's no longer only desperation and terror, which drive him. Once again, they linger there for some time until his breathing slows down. Then, they finally leave the deep waters.
It's only the first step of many, but when Sherlock feels the hot sand under his feet, he feels almost euphoric, and even though he is still shaken, he knows he will enter the water again. Because nothing can happen to him in the water, when Jon is there too.