"Hello John." Sherlock said, walking into the tent with his cape sweeping behind him.
"Should I maybe get some more water?" Greg wondered, looking at Sherlock with a terrified expression. Sherlock looked back at him in confusion, and Greg scampered away, the apple falling from his hands and landing in the soft grass at Sherlock's feet. All of the servants seemed to disappear to the back of the tent, all watching the two intently, as if wondering what was going to become of their conversation.
"You seem to have scared my friends away." John decided.
"That only gives us more privacy." Sherlock agreed, glancing to where the servants were huddled. As soon as he looked at them some of them slid out of the tent, worming their way under the flaps of the tent to freedom.
"What do we need privacy for?" John wondered. Sherlock shrugged, walking over and grabbing a chair from the table, carrying it over so that he could sit across from John, seating himself impressively as if his presence mattered anything.
"We don't; not really, I just wanted to talk I suppose. Share a moment before we go to battle." Sherlock shrugged.
"We're not friends Sherlock, why would you want to talk to me?" John wondered, squinting his eyes suspiciously. Sherlock just looked at him with those vibrant kaleidoscope eyes, eyes that John felt could see right into his soul.
"It's not that I hate you John, don't think that at all, I'm impressed by you." Sherlock assured. John frowned, looking at the prince without amusement.
"Alright, what do you want?" John wondered, crossing his arms and seeing where this was going. Sherlock tried his best to look surprised, maybe scandalized, John didn't know. He ended up looking like a surprised cow, and his intake of breath sounded very scripted.
"I don't want anything from you John; I only want to be friendly." He insisted, as if John's accusation was downright rude.
"Sherlock you're never nice to me, you never bother talking to me unless you want something." John pointed out. Sherlock frowned, dropping the act and looking at John without amusement.
"Alright, fine. I want you to let me win if we compete. Most all of the competitors that I'm facing have taken the bribes, but you haven't." Sherlock insisted.
"When are we facing each other?" John wondered.
"We're on opposite sides of the tournament roster, so that means we'll only see each other in the final, if we both make it." Sherlock admitted. John just laughed, shaking his head in disagreement.
"Then why on earth do you need me to accept your bribe? We won't even get to fight?" John wondered.
"I've watched you fight John, you're very capable of getting to the final. In fact, I think with your fighting style and brutality, I think you're very capable of taking down all of those pathetic knights." Sherlock decided. John frowned again, noticing that Sherlock was trying to flatter him once more.
"I'm not falling for this Sherlock, your being nice to me won't help you at all." John warned. Sherlock sighed heavily again, but went back to slouching in his chair so that his chainmail scrunched up against his chest.
"When do you fight then?" he wondered, looking at John passively, as if he knew this was a lost cause.
"About an hour. You?" John asked.
"Last match of the day, I guess my father just wants people sticking around for the whole thing. They've all come out to see me of course." Sherlock admitted.
"And are you going to win?" John wondered teasingly.
"Yes of course, the man I'm fighting already has a pack of gold and a promise of being considered for knight training. Of course he has no noble blood so he will never get in, but we'll consider him all the less." Sherlock shrugged. He didn't seem to care that he was messing with not only the tournament but other people's emotions, with broken promises that meant nothing. John wondered just what Sherlock would offer him to try to convince him to let him win.
"Something makes me think that's cheating." John decided.
"Oh wow, really John?" Sherlock said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. John just laughed, shaking his head and sitting up in his chair, taking another sip of water to give his hands something to do.
"You're determined, I'll give you that." John decided.
"Thank you John, that's maybe the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Sherlock decided. John just rolled his eyes, the idea that Sherlock thought he was being the bad guy here was just pathetic.
"You're the mean one Sherlock, not me." he insisted.
"I try to be nice, to be accepting." Sherlock defended, trying to look smile. John just groaned, a gentle look on Sherlock's face just looked wrong. But before he could answers someone else walked into the tent, someone John definitely didn't want to see right now. Irene.
"Sherlock, could I talk to you please?" she asked, batting her eyelashes as if that would somehow persuade him. Sherlock didn't look impressed, obviously not trying to make it seem like he was in anyway interested. John didn't pretend to be sad that Sherlock was leaving; in fact it was the best case scenario right now. He was about done listening to Sherlock whine.
"Yes, of course." He agreed, getting to his feet and casting another look down on John, a soft sort of look, as if wondering when he would see him again.
"I guess I'll see you when it's over." he decided, and with that he swept out of the tent, leaving John before he had a chance to say goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Sherlock is the youngest son of a powerful family dynasty, with all the pressure of being the perfect prince sitting on his shoulders. However, he builds his good reputation on lies and tricks, and he dreads the day when his failures will come into...