When I'm King

Chapter 1

In a kingdom of old, older than that of the Kingdom of Arthur, that lived a prince by the name of Sherlock. He was tall and smart and had a beautiful mop of curly hair on his head. Looking at his cheekbones you might actually cut yourself. But the young boy didn't care about his looks, except that he could use them to get what he wanted. No, he preferred to rely on wit to solve his problems.
He was attending a dinner with the rest of his family, they were discussing his brother, Mycroft, they were talking of his plans of attack for the warring kingdoms surrounding theirs.
"Father, I will require the service of a small army to take with me while I...diplomatically take care of the problem." Mycroft announced in between mouth fulls of food.
"If you are solving this diplomatically, why do you need the entirety of our army?" Sherlock questioned under his breath.
"Watch yourself young man, your brother is doing more than you are!" Scolded his mother, the Queen.
Sherlock looked towards his mother and then back down at his food, pushing it around his plate. He knew it was pointless to argue with her, with any of them. So he just asked to be excused and retired to his chambers for the evening. He quickly undressed and put on a pair of old trousers and a loose fitting shirt. Grabbing a pair of riding boots and slipping them on, he jumped from his window and ran into the night. He ran to the horse stables and added a dingy cloak, often worn by servants, that he hid with the horses and left. He walked for a bit in the dark, entering into a darker part of the kingdom and found a local apothecary.
"Be it you 'gain?" he asked
"Yes, it is. Do you have my supplies?" Intoned the prince.
"Ey yer Majesty, but if you don't mind me asking, why'd ya get these from me when ya have yer own doctor at the palace?" the apothecary wondered, handing him a vile with a clear elixir in it.
He didn't answer, he just gave him the money and left, returning home. He put his cloak with the horses and scaled the wall to his chamber. Even though it was on the third level of the castle, a bunch of vines growing along the walls gave him the ability to come and go as he pleased. Entering his window he swung a leg over and sat on the ledge, dangling the other over. He uncorked the vile and took a hard swig, and whilst he did, the mans words hung in his mind. If he were to return to his own medicine man, he would have to let his addiction be known to his parents, for it is their responsibility to maintain knowledge of what the future king is putting in his body.
If Mycroft were not engaged to a woman of another kingdom, one with more power than their own, it wouldn't matter what Sherlock did with himself. But because the responsibility of ruling would someday fall on his shoulders, his parents refused to allow him to take mood altering drugs for they were afraid he would change, in a worse off way than he already was.
It was unknown to Sherlock how many hours he sat there, just thinking. The drug, to which he could not remember the name of, calmed everything around him so he wouldn't have a mental break everyday. When the sun began to rise in the distance he climbed down from the window and crawled into bed.
why can't i just die? he thought as he drifted off to sleep, hoping for death to take him. But when he woke later that morning, he was not surprised, only disappointed.
He gathered some clothes and got dressed. He walked to his favorite place in the entire kingdom, his library. He picked up a random book and walked over to the window bench. Before sitting down he pushed open the window to listen to the sound of the light drizzle occurring outside. He made himself comfortable and began to read. Hours had passed and he was almost done with the book when he herd the clatter of swords crashing against one another.
Setting his book down he peered out the window. It looked as normal as one would expect from a knights practice, but there was a certain knight who caught his eye. He was blonde, and strong. Though rather short, he stood out from the others.
Although Sherlock had no recollection of this knight, he knew one thing for certain, he was going to learn everything he could about him, because he had never seen anyone so...so extraordinary.