When I'm King

Chapter 4

The problem was not that Molly was boring, in fact, as far as people go, she was one Sherlock approved of. The problem was that he wanted this to be over so he could go and talk to John more; well that and this girl's mother was incredibly annoying. Tea time with his mother was more than Sherlock could bear most of the time, but with Madame Hooper there as well, he was bound to bash his brains out.

The hour continued on in an unbearable drag. He and Molly talked, she was rather nice and Sherlock even found himself pitying this girl for having to be the one to deal with her mother when she left. They carried on talking when she mentioned something to him.

"Sherlock, please do not take this the wrong way," she said leaning in, "but I do not believe you seem terribly interested in our conversation. If you wouldn't mind, would you tell me what I am doing wrong?" She asked calmly and quietly as to not draw their mothers out of their own conversation.

"In all honesty Molly, I am terribly bored of this gathering. There is not enough alcohol in this world to make me drunk enough to endure your mother much longer. I am sorry to you that you must go home with her. It has nothing to do with you, in fact you are not completely boring, but I would rather swallow hot coals than to deal with the irritating conversationalist that is your mother. If you do not mind, and even if you do, I will take my leave now. It was a pleasure to meet you Molly and I would not completely mind spending another afternoon with you, but perhaps leave your mother at home. Toodles."

With that, Sherlock rose from his seat and marched out of the room. He knew his mother would soon follow so he did not go to find John; instead he walked to the ballroom and picked up a violin. He began to play and waited for his mother to find him. About two minutes and forty-six seconds later he could hear the click of her shoes entering the room.

"What was that about?" She asked, no hiding the irritation in her voice.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean. That was very rude, Sherlock. And then, you left me to deal with that! I was able to get them out before she threw a fit, but that poor girl is going to get a mouthful about manners because of you!"
"I am very sorry mother, but I could not stand that woman babbling on for any longer. She was very infuriating."

Relaxing, his mother cracked a smile and he realized she thought the same.

"That she was," she said, beginning to chuckle, "That poor girl! She has to deal with that all the time! Oh my! That does not excuse your rude behavior. You will have to write her an apology letter."
That seems very tedious."

"Would you rather say you're sorry to her face? At least this way you don't have to talk to her in person."

"Very well. It will be on the table at breakfast."

"Alright love, I am heading upstairs, I am going to enjoy a bath and then head off to bed, and I've had enough excitement for a day. Goodnight, Sherl"
"Goodnight mother." He said leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Waiting for her to leave, he finished his piece he was working on prior to their talk. Once finished, he went down the hall to the courtyard doorway. Pushing it open, he could hear the knights still practicing. Turning around, he went up to the library, grabbed a book and went back down to the kitchen. He grabbed the largest tea cup he could find and filled it up with the still-warm liquid. Adding some sugar, he walked back out to the courtyard steps and sat there waiting. He read for a while, not noticing the arrival of another body until there was a tap on his shoulder.

Sherlock quickly looked up from his book to find John standing there; he looked ashamed, as if it was a sin to touch him.

"I am sorry to disturb you; I just thought you wanted to continue our talk?" He asks, timidly.

Sherlock smiled. "Of course."

They sat and talked for hours, discussing literature and personal interest. John was skirting around a topic and when Sherlock pulled it out of him, he was very shocked.

"So how was your...date?"

Sherlock was taken aback by the question and took a moment to regain his voice enough to answer.

"It was atrocious."

"Was she not your type?"

"No she wasn't, but she wasn't the problem. Her mother was terrible and I was contemplating stabbing her with a sugar spoon when I finally left."
"Ah, that sounds about right. So you don't see yourself meeting this girl again?"

"No, she was actually rather nice; I wouldn't mind seeing her again."

"Oh, but I thought she wasn't your type?"

"No, she isn't, I meant more of as friends."

"Oh. Well, what is your type?"
Sherlock flashed a small smile.
"Frowned upon by the church and crown."

"Huh?"

"I don't really...you know, never mind."

"Alright. Do you by chance know the time?" John asked.

"It seems to be rather late considering that lack of staff. The staff tends to finish cleaning at around 1 o'clock, and it has been quiet for quite some time so I would say around 2 or 3 in the morning."

"Oh, I need to be leaving soon! I am sorry to keep you up so late."
"No, no, it is my fault. Anyway, I don't know if I would have been in bed at this hour. I tend to stay up late."

"I understand," John said getting to his feet and offering his hand to pull Sherlock up, "Could we do this again?"

"I think that would be a great idea." Sherlock said, smiling.

"One more thing, please do not think little of me for asking, but, may I kiss you?"

Sherlock felt his heart stop and then start again. He swore John could hear it, it was thumping so loud. He couldn't speak at all. John took this negatively.

"No, I am so sorry. Never mind your highness; it was a mistake I apologize."

"Oh, I am sorry, no I mean yes you can kiss me and I was just startled and caught off guard. I think you kissing me would be a wonderful thing."

"Really?" John asked, looking up sheepishly.

Sherlock nodded. John climbed up the stairs separating them and placed both arms on either side of the taller man. He leaned up quickly and pressed his lips on Sherlock's.

For what seemed like forever they stood and stayed in the exact position, the only noise was their hearts in a synchronized beat.

In what was actually a few seconds, they broke apart. John looked up at Sherlock who still had his eyes closed.

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

"Goodnight, John."

John pecked the side of Sherlock's cheek before quickly running off into the night. Sherlock turned, walked into the castle, and made his way to his room. He was more like floating rather than walking. When he made it to his chambers he fell onto his bed. His lips tingled from the touch of John's. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, Sherlock Holmes, Prince and future King, fell into a deep sleep without a single drug in his system.