Heir Apparently

The Servant's Champion

                  Sherlock's POV: Sherlock didn't like the confused look on John's face as they stood there in the armory. He looked a bit helpless, standing with his sagging chest plate and sweat coated brow, staring at Sherlock like he had just done something inconceivable.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock wondered with a guilty smile, hoping he hadn't fried the simpleton's mind.
"Just...processing." John admitted. Sherlock nodded, still not able to wipe the smile off of his face for some reason. Maybe it was just the absolutely perplexed look on John's face that was worth his smile, but either way Sherlock's own happiness nauseated him.
"I'm sorry, are you being nice to me?" John wondered. Sherlock raised his eyebrows, but immediately scowled. Of course John had to bring that up; of course he had to bring up the fact that Sherlock was supposed to be the jerkiest prince to ever live. That was the only title Sherlock was sincerely proud of, and here John was, demanding he defend it.
"No, I'm not. I'm using you again, remember? I'm selfish; now let's get to the stables before anyone sees us." Sherlock insisted, staring for the door and realizing at once that John wasn't following. Sherlock turned on his heel, trying to be patient with the servant the best he could. It wasn't like he was intentionally being nice, but now this idiot was really getting on his nerves.
"Why are we going to the stable? We're fighting, this is the arena. Unless you plan on fighting your horses I recommend..." John started, but Sherlock raised an arm, silencing him.
"John, once again you fail to wait for the whole story. We can't practice in the arena, not where anyone can just happen across us. This is to be a secret, of course, and for secret training we need a secret place to train." Sherlock said, as if this were all terribly obvious. John blinked, but obviously he was about done being confused, so he just nodded.
"Ya, sure, train in the stables, that's fine." He muttered, obviously not having a clue what was going on.
"Grab a shield for yourself, or for me. Either way, one of us is going to need it." Sherlock decided, walking to the door and poking his head cautiously out. He looked around at the arena where there were still some servants mingling around, talking and stalling from their usual duties. Sherlock sighed heavily but obviously there was nothing he could do now, he couldn't yell at servants if they weren't supposed to even know he was here. Sherlock beckoned John to follow him, starting along the paths to the stables. Thankfully the way was deserted; everyone was already at lunch so John and Sherlock had a clear escape from the armory to the stables. When they crept into the barn there were no human life forms, but that didn't stop the horses from looking up from their feed bowls in surprise. Sherlock smiled, he really did like horses better than people because they didn't say anything, they didn't judge or ask questions, they simply went back to their feed, acting as if Sherlock were no different from anyone else in this entire pathetic kingdom. Sherlock walked over to Redbeard, grabbing a carrot from one of the food bags and feeding it to the horse gently, so that he didn't lose any fingers. Redbeard looked very happy,letting Sherlock stroke his nose and ears. John lingered near the door, as if not expecting they would be here long. He was right of course, but probably not in the way he expected.
"Have you ever ridden a horse John?" Sherlock wondered. John walked cautiously over; as if he got too close the horses would spit fire.
"No, not really. Never had the need, or the money." John admitted. Sherlock smiled at him, moving over to that he could appreciate Redbeard as well.
"This is my horse, Redbeard. You can come stroke him, he won't mind." Sherlock assured. John gave both the prince and the horse a very weird look, but cautiously he walked over and pet the horse ever so gently, looking as though he were afraid Redbeard would bite off his hand.
"He's a beautiful horse." John decided, seemingly not knowing what else to say.
"Yes, I got him when he was a foal; I was just a child myself. Look how much we've grown." Sherlock said proudly, opening the stall door and grabbing the saddle from the hook and bringing over to where Redbeard stood. The horse shivered a little bit, but Sherlock just stroked his mane, carefully slinging the saddle over the animal's back and strapping the numerous buckles.
"Wait, you're not actually going to ride him, are you? It's not really a good time." John pointed out. Sherlock just laughed, patting Redbeard's side and watching John in amusement. It was fun to confuse this boy, it made Sherlock feel even more superior than he already was.
"Of course I'm not going to ride him." Sherlock said with a laugh, as if John were being crazy. "We're both going to." He finished. John stepped back in shock, the shield wobbling nervously in his hands.
"Sherlock I told you I can't ride a horse." He pointed out.
"Yes, but I'll be here, all you have to do is hold on." Sherlock assured. John shook his head, suddenly his brave complexion wavered, he looked genuinely scared.
"Why can't we just fight here? Where are you planning on taking me?" John wondered.
"The forest." Sherlock shrugged, as if that were obvious.
"Yes well, the forest is too far away, that's pathetic. There's no one around here, just fight me here." John decided. Sherlock gave John a bewildered look, wondering if John dare question his judgement.
"I'm sorry, but who here is in control?" Sherlock wondered.
"Me! I'm teaching you, you asked for my help, and I'm saying that you're not going anywhere." John decided, putting his foot down quite literally. Sherlock tried not to lose his temper, but once again this bloody servant was pushing him very close to the line. He had prepared lunch, made a special visit, he was even nice to the kid and this was what he got in return. Attitude and ungratefulness.