The Prince - Johnlock

38

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, he was back under the apple tree that Nicholas never wanted him near. 

But this time Jim was next to him. 

"I hate my name", Jim whimpered out as he picked at his shoes shoe laces. 

Sherlock snorted, "Then what do you want to be called?".

Jim shrugged. 

"What do you think Sherl?".

Sherlock pretended to think. 

"Hmmm, how about... Moriarty?", he suggested. 

Jim smiled. 

"Moriarty... I like the sound of that".

The scene then changed to one that included Sally, Moriarty, and Sebastian. 

This time the group was huddled near a river that flowed at the crevice of the wide mountain. 

Sally was skipping stones while the other three raced in the waters. 

After Sherlock lost he went to sit under another tree. 

Except this one was decaying. Dying slowly. 

Moriarty went to join him.

"Sherlock... don't you want the crown?", he asked as he seated onto the cold mossy ground. 

Sherlock looked at him quizzically. 

"The crown belongs to my brother. And why would I want it? I would rather be having fun then having the weight of that ugly gold thing on my head".

Moriarty frowned. 

"Don't you want things to stay like this forever? To stay with me forever?".

Sherlock opened his mouth, but hesitated. 

Why did he? He didn't even know. 

Moriarty continued to stare at him. Then let out a long sigh. 

"Don't worry Sherlock, I'll help you see what's best", Moriarty let his arm sling over Sherlock's bony shoulders. 

But the gesture didn't feel warm... it felt controlling. 

The scene then became an inky black. 

Sherlock remembered this night. He can never forget it. No matter how many times he deletes it. 

Moriarty was at his door that night. Knocking very silently. 

Sherlock, of course answered, and when he did Moriarty grasped his hand and pulled him forward. 

Sherlock heard fast words. 

"Carl Powers. Look what I did. I can show you how to do it. You could make a great king. Just need to kill him".

Sherlock didn't like the killing part. 

Finally Moriarty lead him to the kitchen. 

And there he was. Carl Powers. 

He was a simple servant boy. He wasn't all that good, but what he lacked for in skill he made up for in looks. 

But sadly, his looks diminished since he now looked like a gutted fish. 

Sherlock saw Sebastian standing over the fresh corpse. A knife glinting in the pale lamp light. 

"W-what di-did you do?", Sherlock stuttered out. 

Moriarty smiled. "See! If you become one with me, you can become a great king. One that can rule forever. One that can make everything stay like this forever. But you have to much heart. Luckily for you, I know how to kill it. All you have to do is-", Moriarty walked over to Sebastian and took the knife away. He then walked back to Sherlock and gently placed it in his shaking hands.

"-Kill Mycroft. It won't be that hard I promise! Carl wasn't all that hard to kill. One promise of money and he came running like a cat for the milk cartoon. It was actually rather sad".

Sherlock looked at Carl and imagined his brother's face instead.

It made him want to shed tears. 

"No... No... NO WAY IN HELL AM I DOING THAT", Sherlock shouted.

He then raised his hand and brought the knife down. 

It forced it's way into the kitchen table. 

And Sherlock ran off to find the guards. Anyone. 

But when he came back with a battalion they where gone. 

At least Carl still remained so that no one could ever forget them.