[ john shoots him an inquisitive look, then realizes sherlock's waiting on him for an answer. he casts his eyes over the dock and purses his lips together. there's very little chance he'll earn enough for own vessel without getting shanked first and there's no feasible chance of him ever returning to london either. as far as pirates went, sherlock holmes was a good man; his gut instinct was seldom wrong. ]

There's not... a lot going on for me here. Not for anyone stuck in this godforsaken place, really. And I can't really rely on those betting tables getting me out of here either, can I? [ he ruminates quietly, worrying his lip. his fingers tap his cane and drum out an uneasy rhythm – he can't deny there's already a part of him raring to go and taste adventure again. ] ... Sod it. Yeah, I'll take it.