There was an audience called by the queen at one o'clock that afternoon, where all of the nobles and all of the townspeople showed up, the townspeople crowded around the royal balcony and all of the rich ones stood with the royalty, and usually there was a big announcement made. So of course, as soon as that audience was called, John knew exactly what it meant.
"They're going to pick the king." John exclaimed as soon as the messenger ran past, avoiding the guards standing at either side of the door the best he could.
"This is either going to be the best thing to happen to this kingdom or the worst." Someone piped in.
"Well come on then, get dressed! John, wear your best clothes, they'll probably want you on the balcony with them." Greg insisted, patting John on the back as all of the servants scurried away from the door.
"Quit joking with me for like, one minute." John snapped.
"I'm not joking! With that strong family bond you have with the royals I wouldn't be surprised if they picked you for the throne instead!" Greg said with a sort of laugh. John rolled his eyes, but nevertheless he changed into his green clothes from the dance, complete with the cape and crest. There was a nervous air among the servants as they got ready, there was talk about the kingdom if Mycroft ruled, and even more talk about the kingdom is Sherlock got the crown. It was an odd thought, picturing Sherlock making all of the important decisions, but evidently it was possible. Everyone else was joking about it though, they seemed to think that the idea of Sherlock having any sort of power was just a laugh, and it would never really happen. John couldn't help but wonder though, if the queen was a bit more delusional than all of the servants took her as. Just as they were about to walk down there was a knock on the door, and everyone groaned. John took this as either a messenger telling them servants weren't allowed, or a huge troop of soldiers ready to escort the poor men down to the very back of the square. John, who was closest to the door at the time, opened it to see not a messenger or a solider, in fact it was Irene, looking as sparkly and annoying as ever.
"Irene, what in the world are you doing here?" John wondered. He noticed that there were more soldiers, probably her personal escorts, waiting at the end of the hall.
"To collect you of course!" Irene insisted, as if this should've been obvious. Greg clicked his tongue from this bunk, as if trying to give John a silent 'I told you so'.
"Why in the world would you want to come get me? What do I possibly do for you?" John wondered.
"You're the bloody champion! When people around here think of the Adlers they think of you, not me." Irene insisted. John sighed heavily, but nodded.
"Yes, alright." He agreed.
"Of course you won't be there as a royal guest, you'll be our personal servant, so you'll just stand there and look official." Irene decided.
"What, on the balcony?" John wondered. Irene stared in amazement at him, as if wondering how he was so incompetent.
"No, in the kitchens! Of course it's the balcony, now come on, we'll be late!" Irene insisted, grabbing John's arm and starting to pull him away. As soon as she made contact, however, her soldiers rushed towards the two, their swords drawn, as if that had been some sort of threat.
"You're serious; you've got to kidding me!" Irene growled, releasing John's arm and giving the soldiers the dirtiest of looks. John just brushed off his shirt, not a care in the world. He was more confused than threatened, somehow Greg had managed to make that estimate, but why on earth would the Adlers want John up there in the stands with him? He was the number one suspect for this whole murder thing, how would Victor, of all people, allow this? But nevertheless John allowed himself to be pulled along by Irene and her guards, walking side by side in this procession of soldiers.
"So what do I do, just stand there, watch it all happen?" John wondered.
"Yes, just act noble. And don't show any disappointment when the king is chosen, always smile, always clap." Irene instructed.
"Why would I be disappointed?" John wondered, struggling to keep up to her long strides even though she was wearing heels.
"Because obviously we both want Sherlock to be king, then I'd be a queen and you'd be a royal's male mistress, but Mycroft is probably going to get the crown." Irene muttered.
"Male mistress?" John asked hotly, not liking that term directed at himself.
"Just go with it John, just go with it." Irene growled, shaking her head in annoyance.
"Whatever you say, I've got no experience with any of this royal stuff." John agreed, just deciding not to argue anymore. They walked through the halls until they got to the royal balcony, nothing special except two glass doors overflowing with men and women in fancy clothes and hats, all looking very excited if not nervous.
"When's the king's funeral?" John wondered.
"I can only assume tonight. Usually they want a king to wish their predecessor farewell, so that's why this is so sudden." Irene decided. John nodded, not thinking that made any sense at all. They made their way through the crowd, no one paying them much attention if not to scoff at their pushing. Thankfully they found the Alder family rather easily, out in the sunlight with lacy parasols and servants fanning them with large fans. John was surprised Victor let so many Adlers be so close to Sherlock and the royal family, but then again, this was a special occasion. John saw many familiar faces up here; Victor was standing next to the thrones in his black attire, looking very overheated and staring longingly at the large fans. Molly Hooper and her family were on the other side of the thrones; she was looking very nice in a purple gown, although she seemed to be having trouble breathing, always readjusting her dress as if she had some sort of tight corset underneath. And seated on the thrones was the Holmes family, all in their designated thrones, their crowns sparkling on their heads in the harsh sunlight. The king's throne remained open, an empty reminder of why all of these people gathered here today. And below the balcony was the town square, filled to the absolute max with the townspeople and servants, all aching to get a good look at the royal family and the soon to be king, whoever that might be. John was shocked that he was allowed to be up here with the rest, he felt very important. He couldn't help but notice that there was an overabundance of guards as well, lingering on all sides of the balcony, around the Adlers, the nobles, flanking either side of the thrones. Victor may be very dedicated to his job of protecting the royal family, but this seemed almost obsessive, paranoid even. John knew that Mary wouldn't dare try to attack someone in this public of a setting, and he most certainly wasn't going to either. Suddenly there were trumpets blasted and the crowd cheered like mad, everyone clapping and screaming in excitement. There didn't seem to be many somber people today, even though their king had died. The queen got to her feet and walked forward to the edge of the balcony, looking over at her subjects with a glittering smile.
"My loyal townspeople, my servants, my nobles, and my royal guests, I have called all of you here to address a very important matter. After a series of very unfortunate events, my husband has been killed by an assassin who still walks among us." She started. There was a quiver through the crowd and John couldn't help but feel a little bit uneasy, wondering how many suspicious eyes fell on him. He glanced quickly up to Victor, who was staring at the back of Sherlock's head, his eyes vacant as if whatever was going on in his mind was much more interesting than reality.
"The throne is open and will be occupied by either of my two sons, Mycroft, the oldest, or Sherlock, the previously designated heir. Unfortunately my husband isn't around to make this fateful decision, and burden has fallen onto myself to try to do what is best for not only myself but for all of you as well, my kingdom and my subjects." She took a deep breath, and a servant walked up to her with a velvet pillow, on top of which sat the king's crown, polished to perfection so that the sun shone so brightly on it that John's eyes burned just trying to watch. He looked over at Sherlock and Mycroft, both sitting very proudly in their chairs but looking nervous, terrified even, to see just what the queen had in mind for the fate of their kingdom. It all came down to this moment. The queen took the crown with graceful fingers, holding it up in the air for the whole crowd to see. John could only hope that she didn't drop it, as that would be very unfortunate.
"This crown has sat on the heads of the most noble, most respectful and most dedicated men that this kingdom has ever seen. And I take it upon myself now to make sure that it sits on the head of that who meets all of the designated requirements. So, after hours of consideration, I am proud to announce that my son, Sherlock Holmes, is to be king of Lauriston Kingdom." The queen announced, and everything fell silent. Irene had insisted that John clap, smile, and be happy, but as soon as the queen said Sherlock's name, the entire square fell so quiet that you could hear a pin drop a mile away.
"Sherlock?" Mycroft's voice wondered, the first person to make a sound. Sherlock sat on his throne in fear, his face completely white, as if he didn't dare believe it. John was looking at Molly across the balcony, who's mouth had dropped open in absolute fear. No one seemed to want to say anything or do anything; they just kind of stood there and watched.
"Sherlock, come up here." the queen insisted, holding the crown for her son to take. Sherlock's eyes were wide and he shook his head, staying glued to his throne.
"Mycroft...it should be Mycroft!" shouted a voice from below, and suddenly the square came alive. Everyone threw around their insults and their opinions, John heard horrible words being thrown around, cheat, liar, fake, child. Everyone had something different to say about Sherlock, and none of them were good.
"Go ahead Sherlock, go up there." Mycroft insisted, pushing his little brother to his feet. Mycroft looked absolutely shell shocked, but not nearly as afraid as Sherlock. The boy stumbled to his feet, walking very slowly to his mother and taking off his prince's crown, handing it to the servant with the velvet pillow. He wouldn't be needing that any longer. There were some whispers exchanged between the two, Sherlock was mumbling and the queen was hissing back, obviously she wanted Sherlock to show some courage in front of his people, all of which were now under his rule. John had no idea how to feel about this, he didn't want to imagine a world where Sherlock was in charge. But finally the queen lifted the golden crown onto Sherlock's head, settling it in his curls and stepping back to admire her son.
"I'm so proud of you Sherlock." She said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Sherlock muttered something back which was unheard. He slowly turned towards the crowd, the sparkling crown sitting impressively on his head, he looked like a king, he looked, well, powerful. The crowd never silenced, they kept screeching out their opinions, Sherlock getting hit full on with the insults of the commoners.
"SILENCE!" Sherlock screamed, his words echoing off the walls so violently that the crowd shushed, all staring up at their new king. Sherlock stood even straighter than before, the wind blowing his cape lightly around his ankles, standing above the masses as if he owned them, which now he did.
"Bow to me." Sherlock instructed, and John couldn't help but gape in amazement. Sherlock's ego had just soared to the skies, and now he knew that no one could refuse anything he said. The people still stood there, shell shocked at their king's first instruction.
"I SAID BOW TO ME!" Sherlock screamed, shaking so violently that the queen stepped back in shock. Slowly every shuffled to their knees, the townspeople, the servants, everyone on the balcony. John dropped to his knees as well, staring at the ground in shock, as if he was sure most of the others were doing as well. Sherlock really wasn't having a good start as king.
"I am your new king and you will respect me just as you did my father, and his father before him. I will take care of you all, I will protect you all, I will do everything in my power to make sure this kingdom doesn't just survive, but flourishes. But I expect the same respect in return. You will not talk bad about your king; you will not disrespect me in anyway. I shall only love my subjects as much as they love me. And that love that you receive, it starts now." Sherlock said dramatically, letting his words echo off of the stone buildings until they faded into silence once more. And with that he swept from the balcony, his crown glittering on his head and his cape spiraling through the wind, leaving the balcony with the most dramatic of all exits, the doors slamming shut behind him.
Sherlock POV: There was a numb sort of panic expanding in his stomach, his feeling that didn't quite hit him until he was alone, until he was out of the crowd's eyes. The crown sat so massively on his head that he was afraid it was going to break his neck, the kind of responsibility and power that came along with this jewel encrusted gold, it was unthinkable. And to be disrespected in such a way, in front of his mother, his brother, in front of John. They all thought he was a maniac, unfit to be king, unfit to even be a prince. And they were right, what had persuaded his mother to crown him king, who in their right mind would ever want to see such a cheater upon the throne of Lauriston. They used to have honor, dignity, respect, and now Sherlock was being disgraced by the very people he was forced to call subjects. This was so embarrassing, this was so unthinkable, Sherlock could hardly process it himself.
"Sherlock!" exclaimed a female voice from down the hall. "Sherlock come back here at once!" she said once more. It was his mother, of course, and so Sherlock had to stop, turning so that his mother could see the anger in his eyes.
"How dare you leave like that, how dare you treat your people with such disrespect! One minute into your new role and you've already made a fool of yourself!" The queen exclaimed, marching right up to Sherlock in anger.
"Why would you pick me, are you delusional?" Sherlock yelled right back, exasperation in his voice as he finally confronted her.
"I am not delusional Sherlock I thought you would be best for this kingdom, your father thought the same before he died." Mrs. Holmes insisted.
"He did not! He knew then that I was a fake, that I was a cheat! How dare you put this on him, this was all you, hoping to see me grow with my expectations!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Your father knew that you would be fit for the throne, what does it matter that you can't sword fight? It's what's inside that counts, your drive, your dedication to your people, that's what I saw in you, that's what he saw in you." She insisted.
"I'm not supposed to be a king mother, I'm not supposed to be anything." Sherlock growled.
"Too right you are." Mycroft agreed, making his way down the hall with his cape flowing behind him. He looked beyond angry; he looked betrayed, as if he couldn't see how his mother would even make such a terrible decision.
"Something to say Mycroft?" Sherlock wondered with a sly smile. This was the only good think that had come out of today, Mycroft's downfall.
"Yes of course I have something to say, a lot to say actually. Starting with what in the world where you thinking?" Mycroft decided, looking very moody with his sad little prince crown still perched in his hair.
"Everyone seems to think that I have made the wrong decision, but you will see in time that I have not. Sherlock stands for this kingdom; I trust that he will make all of the mature choices." The queen insisted.
"Mother he already yelled at the townspeople, he's already made a bad impression for himself!" Mycroft exclaimed.
"That was my choice, my final choice, I don't' want to hear anything from you Mycroft. There is no turning back now." The queen insisted.
"But I'm the obvious choice; surely you must've seen that!" Mycroft insisted, gesturing weakly at Sherlock, who wore the crown proudly.
"Evidently not." Sherlock said proudly. Mycroft growled at his little brother, something that might be a little bit more intimidating had their mother not been standing right there.
"Be mature, both of you. You think this has been easy for me, making a decision for myself and your father alone? You both should be ashamed of yourselves for being so immature, for being so childish! Now go get your guards and go to your rooms, I expect you both down by four o'clock to prepare for your father's funeral." Queen Holmes insisted, shooing both her sons away as if she hadn't a care in the world.
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...