How Could I Ever Forget?

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John watched the royals dine once more through the key hole, making notes on how many times they all took a sip of their wine so that he could know exactly when to swoop in with the refills. Not only did he want to see Sherlock but he also wanted to see what they all thought of his transaction with the Adlers, if the two other Holmes accepted it or not. Obviously Sherlock had brought the topic up on impulse, evidently he hadn't discussed it with anyone before he brought it to the meeting, but there still might be hope. John could only imagine that the Queen had some sort of like for him, and even though he didn't think Mycroft was his biggest fan he also suspected that the prince respected him, just a little bit. So obviously the two of them, plus Sherlock willing to give up his entire soul, would be able to get John away from the Adlers once and for all. But what would happen to John once he was freed? Would his family be killed or released? Would he still have to kill Sherlock? Well, that last one was obvious, of course he would, but he wouldn't be on such a time limit. They would leave and let John do his work, probably sending warning letters from Moriarty now and then, just to get John moving. But with them gone John would be framed for the entire thing, he couldn't try to convince the royals that he had been forced into this whole thing by the Adlers when they were long gone. No, they were going to kill his mother first, in a week he would be half an orphan. He had to protect his family, even if that did mean having to kill his love.
"I'm going to go out, refill the wine." John decided, having enough of this waiting around rubbish.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Greg asked nervously, standing up just as John had.
"I want to get their opinions on my working here, as discreetly as possible of course." John insisted. Greg sighed heavily, but in the end he nodded, obviously not seeing anything too wrong with John's course of action. So John grabbed the wine pitcher, pulling open the door and starting his way over to where the royal family dined.
"Why is it only ever you who pours the wine?" Mycroft wondered, the first one to acknowledge John's presence. Sherlock looked over at him with a soft smile, but obviously he was too afraid to attempt a greeting.
"Is that an issue?" John wondered.
"No of course not." Sherlock said quickly. "In fact, we were just talking about you."
"Oh Sherlock dear, maybe that's best kept private, for now." The queen decided.
"That's fine, no that's fine, just wanted to make sure you all knew that I would love to be transferred here. Obviously it's a lot of gold, I'm aware, and if it's too much to invest in little old me I completely understand." John assured. The queen smiled sweetly at him, but she shook her head softly.
"We're not worried about the gold Mr. Watson. We understand that you would be an invaluable member of our kingdom." She assured. John smiled proudly, not expecting such high praise from the queen herself.
"Well thank you very much ma'am, that means a lot." John said with a smile.
"You were unaware of this proposal going into the meeting I'm sure?" Mycroft wondered, still not looking entirely convinced that John would be more of a help than a burden around here.
"Yes, yes of course I had no idea." John agreed. Mycroft nodded, slicing through a potato with a single slice of his knife.
"Sit John, eat with us." Sherlock offered, extending his hand towards the empty seat next to his mother.
"Oh no, I really shouldn't, I'm just here to pour the wine." John insisted, holding out the pitcher as if Sherlock hadn't noticed it before. Mycroft eyed John even more suspiciously than ever, but no one protested his decision. Once again, Sherlock was testing the limits between servants and royals. He looked nervous, scared even, that his family might detect his heart beating faster and faster. He was keeping his head down, glancing up every so often just to satisfy his need for a look. There was no more conversation aimed at John, so he went around and filled their wine glasses, making sure to lean a little bit onto Sherlock's shoulder as he reached across his golden plate. Sherlock cleared his throat vert awkwardly, as if trapping an exclamation of surprise in his throat, but John bowed his way out of the room before anything else was said.

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