holmes_minor | Fic: Salmon: Teen (Reply)

Title: Salmon
Rating: Teen
Length: 400
Content Notes and Warnings: Horror AU, Holmes & Watson, Turkish bath, tentacles, major character death (implied)
Summary: Curious Holmes accompanies Watson to the Turkish bath.
Author's Note: for the August monthly prompt: relaxation.

“I suppose there is something relaxing about being baked like a salmon fillet.”

Watson stretches on the bench like a lizard beneath the desert sun. He smiles.

Beads of sweat tickle as they roll off my body.

“Salmon may also be poached.”

Watson smiles again. The simple steam bath, however, is less pleasant than the dry variety.

I drip.

Watson drips.

We do not remain in the herbal steam bath. With one shared glance we arrive, by mute and mutual agreement, at the decision that I voice upon egress:

“Seasoned salmon can be overwhelming for the palate.”

We end our journey in the lowermost chambers by the stone-lined pools.

“Watson,” I say, studying an arched threshold to a darkened passageway.

“Where the salmon go to mate,” he mumbles, then promptly falls asleep.

I watch the water. Ripples, waves, troughs and peaks, bubbles, changes in colour and reflections of light.

My mind relaxes.

Or so I think until I arrived at the conclusion that there must be an empty chamber on the other side of the tank wall. Nothing else explains my observations.

“I’m going for a swim, Watson.”

He snores.

I wade into the water, moving hands along the wall.

And find what I seek.

I push.

The break in the wall reveals itself to be a door.

I cast a glance at Watson’s sleeping form, then procede.

The door swings closed behind me.

I am reassured at the twin notch on this side of the wall.

I turn.

Ah.

A luminous, opalescent chamber surrounding cyan waters.

The centre of an oyster.

I immediately float on my back and imagine myself a pearl whose heart is a speck of grit.

Fanciful.

Watson will laugh when I tell him.

I float.

I am a mythical creature, half human, half fish. Singing sailors to their deaths.

I am a kraken. Rising from the depths. Breaking ships like nursery toys.

My mind floats.

My mind wakes.

My body stirs.

I am hungry.

How long have I been here?

Too long.

As I pass back through the hidden door, I itch and burn. My skin, my whole being feels constricting, confining.

Something inside me seeks release, freedom.

The tension ebbs as the tips of eight ribbon legs come into my field of vision.

They coil. Uncoil.

I am hungry.

And there, on the stones, I see it.

Dinner.

Delicately prepared.

Lightly seasoned.

Salmon.