"Silence!" Sherlock exclaimed, gripping the arm rests on his golden throne impatiently. There was a hush, and suddenly all eyes were on him. Sherlock repositioned himself in his throne, looking on the people with an aura of power, of responsibly.
"As you all know, I am new to this whole process, so I politely ask you to all take your seats and help me along the best you can." Sherlock said, forcing a rather pleasant smile. No one talked as they all shuffled to their designated chairs, lining the velvet carpet so that no one obstructed the view of the royals. The kings watched as the hall became situated, their stone faces carved into impressive expressions as they watched order come to a group they have never known.
"What is this rubbish?" Mycroft wondered, picking up what looked like a small bundle of wilted wildflowers from his chair. Sherlock's eyes widened in fear, snatching the bundle out of Mycroft's hands before he could take any closer look.
"Nothing, obviously a mistake." Sherlock said quickly, tucking the flowers safely into his pocket before Mycroft could ask any more questions.
"What have you been doing with flowers in the throne room?" Mycroft wondered. Sherlock shrugged, trying to look as confused as Mycroft was.
"I didn't say they were mine." He snapped. They had been intended for John of course, that night when everything changed. But Sherlock had been so flustered he must've forgotten about them, he had stumbled back to his room in a drunken state that night, unable to wipe a smile off of his face even as he slept. Finally there was silence, and as soon as everyone became seated and attentive, the doors opened.
"Sorry I'm late, I would blame it on hallway traffic but in reality I couldn't find my...." John's voice cut off when he found that suddenly all eyes were on him. Sherlock took a deep, startled breath, feeling his hands clench around his arm rests once more as he gazed into the eyes of his live. "...cape." John finished, looking over apologetically at Sherlock. "Wow, I really am late." He muttered. John looked dashing in his green ceremonial attire, walking among the row of seats to try to find an available one. Sherlock felt his cheeks glow red, maybe because he was getting a wave of second hand embarrassment, or maybe because he knew his brother's eyes were on him rather than on John. John didn't seem to be all that embarrassed, dispute the confused whispering that shimmied its way down the rows. Finally he found a seat between the Smallwoods and the Hoopers, shaking hands with both of his neighbors before focusing his attention back on Sherlock with those beautiful hazel eyes. Sherlock stared back at him, his gaze melting in the torrents of love passing back and forth across the room.
"John..." Sherlock whispered, a small, tiny word that escaped his lips as he sat there, transfixed in the gaze of the man who stole his heart.
"Well then Sherlock, get on with it." the queen insisted, and Sherlock nodded, blinking and tearing his eyes away from John's with difficulty. Oh how painful it was to long for a private conversation in a room filled with so many irrelevant people. All of them were pointless in Sherlock's life, all except one.
"Alright, everyone, calm yourselves." Sherlock said rather awkwardly. He heard Mycroft sigh next to him, but honestly he could understand his annoyance, this was already going horribly.
"What should we talk about first?" Sherlock muttered quietly to his mother.
"Talk about the recent tournament, the happy things that have happened." she suggested. Sherlock nodded, not knowing how to focus on the happy things without focusing too much on John.
"So, we've had quite a past couple of days, am I right?" Sherlock wondered with a forced smile. Most people didn't laugh, they just stood there stony faced, staring at Sherlock as if wondering if he were serious or not. John laughed; he saw his face break out into a beautiful little giggle. Molly's face softened a little bit, and Victor broke into a small, guilty smile as well. But most everyone else cringed, as did Sherlock.
"Well, it all started off with an excellent tournament, a competition that...um...I didn't win...but that's oaky. We have our champion here today, as you all probably noticed. So that's good." Sherlock muttered, looking desperately at his mother for help.
"Just get on with it. Taxes." Mycroft snapped. Sherlock sighed heavily, glancing over at John's who's smile was fading.
"Yes, alright then. Let's talk about taxes." Sherlock decided, and finally they got the meeting back on track. It was boring, absolutely painfully miserably boring. The only light in this miserable darkness was, as predicted, John Watson. He sat there looking perfectly attentive at all times, but his gaze didn't wander. No matter who was talking Sherlock knew that if he looked over at John Watson the servant would be looking right back, those chocolate eyes fixating on the king with nothing but desire and respect. All Sherlock wanted to do was lead him up here, to take his hand and ignore everyone else in the room, he wanted to pull John close to him, he wanted to lock their lips and intertwine their limbs until they were nothing but a hopeless human puzzle. Who cared who was watching, who cared about the consequences? John Watson was sitting in this very room, consumed by the very love that had eaten away at Sherlock for so long. It was so possible, it was so doable, it was so...frustrating. Because Sherlock knew that no matter what he did he could never kiss his only love in public. He knew that he could never let others know about his passion, he could never let anyone witness his soft glares and gentle touches to that boy, his love for John must be kept a secret. It the truth leaked out then Sherlock could ruin all the hopes he had of ever living the rest of his life with John. The servants served lunch at the meeting as they all took a break from sitting and talking, switching to talking about politics to talking about their meaningless lives while munching on small sandwiches. Sherlock sat in this throne, trying his best to force-feed himself some sort of ham sandwich but not being able to do it. He had so much pressure, so much rage sitting on his shoulders right now, pressing on his chest and making it impossible to swallow a simple bite of food. John was so close, Sherlock was so frustrated. Instead of just sitting in his throne and wasting this perfectly good opportunity of free time, Sherlock wanted to drag John out into the hallway, to kiss in a darkened corner when none but their own eyes were looking. But of course he couldn't do that. He couldn't leave his chair, just like he couldn't last night, he was chained to this throne until he was given permission to leave, until the spirits of the kings allowed him to stand or John Watson came and ripping him off of the golden throne himself. After lunch was just more boring meetings, but there was a method to Sherlock's madness, a point of interest that he would like to discuss in return for his cooperation. Even John was starting to get bored as someone explained about the crops the farmers were now growing, and how the cultivation of soybeans was going to be more influential on the castle than the cultivation of just regular beans. Sherlock listened in annoyance, although he still wasn't convinced. Who had ever eaten soybeans alongside dinner? They were going on about the benefits soybeans had to your health as well as the environment, Sherlock was only half listening, he kept glancing at John, who looked oddly fascinated. He kept muttering something to Lord Smallwood, as if he had an opinion that he was just dying to share. To Sherlock's amazement, however, Mr. Smallwood seemed to be interested in what John had to say, as if he were actually saying things that weren't complete rubbish. Example B as to why John should be sitting on this throne instead. Then again, if they actually came out together, if they brought their relationship out of the shadows, maybe John could sit on his own throne, right next to Sherlock.
"Thank you my lord." The man bowed, walking back to his seat. Sherlock smiled at him, not knowing what to do when he wasn't even listening, so he just nodded and looked around.
"Any other topics that need to be discussed?" he wondered, looking at his mother and brother, both of who looked satisfied.
"No, I don't think so." the queen decided, looking around at the bored expressions of everyone in the room. Sherlock was sure his expression matched all of their own, but then he cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his throne.
"I have something to discuss, something that I need to discus with the Adler family." He announced. There was a collective gasp, everyone kept looking around and whispering to their neighbors, even John looked a bit nervous. Oh, obviously, they all thought he was going to propose to Irene. Rubbish, what absolute rubbish. The Adlers walked up in front of Sherlock's throne, all decked out in their fanciest attire. Victor stirred from where he stood in the corner, watching the family in suspicion as they opening confronted the king. Sherlock looked at all three of them, the King holding himself proud and tall, both women wearing their most sparkly and most expensive jewelry. They all acted as if they had every ounce of respect that they had arrived here with, and that they weren't all messed up in an assassination case. Of course Victor was just being paranoid, they wanted to marry their daughter into the Holmes family, not destroy the bloodline once and for all. They looked nervous, however, if not excited, the queen clenching her daughter's hand in excitement, as if she thought she knew what was coming. Even Sherlock's family looked confused; Mycroft was giving his brother some odd looks while the queen tried to pretend that she knew what was going on, even though she had no idea.
"I have a proposal for you." Sherlock started, and there was more excited whispering. Maybe not the best choice of words.
"Yes, anything my lord." The king agreed, bowing his head in respect. Oh, Sherlock liked that, an experienced royal treating Sherlock as a superior. Sherlock sighed, looking over Irene's shoulder to where John sat, his jaw clenched for some reason. Maybe he was angry, maybe he was jealous, maybe he thought that dispute the events that occurred last night Sherlock had feelings for Irene.
"I was wondering if you would be willing to let go of one of your servants, so that he could come work here instead?" Sherlock asked. There was a collective sigh of annoyance, and suddenly the interested looks of all of the crowd's faces diminished. Even the Adler family looked a little bit disappointed, all except Irene. She looked as if that had been better than what she was expecting. John perked up in his chair; evidently he knew exactly who Sherlock was talking about. He also looked very relieved, an emotion that was most certainly unnecessary, given the circumstances.
"And which servant do you have in mind?" the King asked, looking a bit hopeful for some reason. Sherlock took a deep breath, glancing over at his mother, who was looking back at him in confusion.
"John Watson." Sherlock admitted. John got to his feet as soon as Sherlock said that, and suddenly all eyes were on him. He looked impressive at least, he had his formal attire on, a cape that hung at his heels, but he didn't look powerful. But obviously his power didn't matter, to John his social status was no more than an expectation, so maybe that was why he felt like he had the right to walk right up to a whole party of royals without any invitation what so ever.
"I'll stay, of course I will." John agreed, walking right up next to Irene, who turned her glittering head towards him in interest.
"Mr. Watson I don't think your decision is the defining factor for this matter." Mycroft said rather spitefully, as if wondering just why John would dare interrupt such an important council. John just looked at Mycroft in annoyance, as if wondering why he would attempt to correct him.
"I'm not a slave; I have my own free will. I want to stay." He said flatly. Sherlock couldn't help but smile, ducking his head down so that no one could see even though he knew that all eyes were always on him while he was on this throne. There was no hiding any of this. Sherlock looked back up at the Adlers, all of which looked like they had a decent understanding of their offer.
"There should be a...transfer fee." The king decided with a smile, obviously trying to make some money off of them.
"Or I could just quit your kingdom." John offered.
"You cannot do that Mr. Watson, this is a transaction." Mycroft insisted, giving John a glare of disapproval. John looked over at Sherlock with a thankful sort of glance, making Sherlock try his best to hide the blush that was now creeping into his cheeks. Beautiful John Watson, looking at him in appreciation. It was almost too much for Sherlock's poor heart to handle.
"What are you asking for?" Sherlock asked determinedly, giving the king a glare that said he wouldn't back down. This could be used to the Adler's advantage, however, considering they now knew how desperate Sherlock was to have John be a part of his castle once and for all.
"Let's say...ten thousand." The king decided. Sherlock opened his mouth to agree, but his mother grabbed his arm rather roughly, as if trying her best to silence him before he could make any horrible decisions.
"We need to discuss this of course." She insisted, smiling sweetly at the Adlers, the best smile she could manage at the moment.
"Mother I want to do it." Sherlock whispered, turning his head so that he could see his mother's reaction. She looked very annoyed with him, but Sherlock had no idea why. He was the king, after all.
"Sherlock we are not made of money." She hissed.
"Yes but we can sacrifice a little bit of it, I want to hire him." Sherlock pointed out. His mother's eyes narrowed, but she shook her head.
"We'll talk about this later." She insisted. Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head but looking back up to the Adlers, letting his glance fall on John for a moment.
"We'll talk about it later I suppose, and get back to you." He decided with a smile, a smile he was sure sent the proper 'please kill me' message.
"Of course my lord." The king agreed, bowing slightly before turning his family away. John stood up by the thrones still, all eyes obviously on him as he looked at Sherlock hopefully.
"Go back to your seat John." Sherlock hissed, hoping that went without saying. John nodded, suddenly realizing that he had no place up on the velvet carpet, and scurried back to his seat.
"With that all said and done, I think this meeting has come to a conclusion." The queen decided with a smile. There was a collective sigh of relief, and Sherlock couldn't help but feel relieved himself. He had gotten through his first boring meeting; if this was only what kings had to do I suppose it's not all that bad. Sherlock bolted out of his throne, walking determinedly over to where John was stretching out his legs, chatting absent mindedly to the Smallwoods once more.
"Ah, your majesty." Lord Smallwood said, bowing as if this were some sort of honor. John didn't mimic him; he just smiled, as if they were good enough friends that they didn't need any sort of introduction. It was true, of course, but the rest of the world didn't know that, they still had to put on some sort of show.
"Quite the question you asked." John said with a small little smile. Sherlock nodded, casting his gaze to where his mother and brother were muttering to each other over top of his empty throne.
"Would you really be willing to work for me?" Sherlock wondered. John just laughed, as if that were a very obvious question.
"I would be your doormat if it meant staying in this castle." He assured. Sherlock laughed a small laugh of relief, looking at John with such soft, loving eyes that he was surprised no one else had caught on.
"You really mean that?" Sherlock wondered. John just shook his head, pinching the brim of his nose as if wondering how oblivious Sherlock could possibly manage to be.
"Sherlock you're really underestimating me right now." John pointed out. Sherlock smiled at him, a smile of relief, a smile of love.
"Just making sure." He muttered. He was very aware of all of the people milling around, all of the most important people in the castle, all probably casting glances over at him as well, as if seeing what he was up to after such a public outburst. But right now he really didn't care, he still had the temptation to wrap John up in his arms, to hold him to his chest and breathe in the scent of his hair.
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...