Sherlock had expected his hand to be cold and clammy, when he saw the fishman reaching out for him. His instinct was to draw back, but he didn't, and when the fishman touched his hand, Sherlock drew in a quick breath. He was wet of course, but surprisingly soft and warm, not as warm as a human, but still not cold like a fish.

He couldn't speak, but he nodded softly. He had no idea why, but he did trust him.