Reign or Shine

Only the Good Perish

Gunshots are heard from the castle. They all await word of the victor. The war should be over soon. His father had a grave plan of how to get the enemy to surrender. It had to go off without a hitch. Everything about the carefully laid plan was perfect. Hours and hours go by, and soon days, the gunfire barely ever ceasing. Approximately 10 days after going back to battle two doctors slam through the castle doors with a makeshift gurney. His father, crowned yet bloody lays there. Everybody is in shock, then grief. The King is dead. All Sherlock can hear is the blood pumping in his ears. The great King of England, Benjamin Holmes had been killed. The only thing that takes him out of his fog of sorrow is his mother. Comforting yet stern, urging him to keep his father in his heart and carry on his legacy as a great King. But him? Him as a King. He knew he were to inherit the throne but he never truly expected it to be thrust upon him so suddenly. Especially when he had no time to prepare. But? The good son that he was and the good leader he must be, charged forward into the role, getting coronated the next day. His first plan of action? Revenge. He WILL get the enemy to surrender. And unlike his father, God rest his soul, King Sherlock Holmes will NOT fail.....

~~~~~~~

Sherlock comes in from battle with a bloody arm. He tosses his armor and shield and rubs his face. He approaches his mother, giving a sharp nod of approval before bowing onto one knee, allowing her to place the precious gold crown, encrusted with jewels, upon his head of dark raven curls. "Darling...your father would be proud. But self destruction isn't the way to grieve. We all know this. You must be careful." 

Sherlock nods quietly and stands slowly. She nods politely, in respect. 

"Believe in yourself. It will get you far." 

He gently kisses her cheek. "Thank you Mother."

"Always Your Majesty." She smiles a bit mischievously. "I think it is about time we get the maid to switch our quarters. A King deserves the main castle, whilst a widow has no need for such a luxury." 

"But you deserve it more than I, Mother." 

She gently pats his hand. "You're King. I'm no longer considered a valid Queen. You deserve it darling. I'll only be needing a smaller space. I'll still be in the castle, have you need for me." 

"I'll always have need of you mother. This is all so new to me. I don't think father wanted me to be King.."

"Now now. Your father was proud of you. You were such a brave, strong and valiant knight. And you will be an even greater King."

"I would still like to join the knights in battle. Till we gain control of this war." He walks with her into the castle. 

"You were a Knight and a Prince. You can be a King too. And of course...Your father would want you to win for him."

He nods softly. "But I'm not just doing this for his honor. There's many lives that need to be protected."

"Of course. Every man on that battlefield has family. May it be a lonely wife or a dozen children. Each is just as important as the other. But they choose to fight. For their country for their King. For their honor. Every death will be respected. I assure you, son."

He nods at her words. "If you'll excuse me Mother. I think I should have this blasted wound treated." 

She nods. "Yes, I'll send for a nurse to your quarters." He nods and goes to his room, washing his face off. There's a small knock at the door of his bed chambers.

"Come in."

A nurse, petite in stature, walks in. She has wavy auburn hair tied up for cleanliness along with kind, warm brown eyes. She is wearing the appropriate nurses clothes. She bows politely. "Your Majesty."

He acknowledges her with a polite nod. "Nurse Hooper. "

I have received word of an arm injury. Tell me, will it require stitches?" 

He glances at the wound. "I believe it will." He says as he slips his undershirt off of his sweaty body. She turns pink but remains professional. 

"Turn to the left please, Your Majesty." 

He turns to the left to give her good view of his right arm, a sharp slice across his bicep. "Ooh tip of the sword then?" 

"Yes." 

"Weakest part of the armor. Truth be told more knights lose limbs than lives." she exclaims, while beginning to wipe the blood and stitch the wound.

"Even if one has armor, that doesn't mean he won't die."

"Exactly. The loss of a limb could easily mean loss of a life. All depends on how quickly the medical team can reach them. If they can." 

He nods silently and she breaks the silence. "We've even got a few of 'em downstairs in the medical chamber."

Sherlock sighs a bit sadly and looks out the window. Molly looks at him understandingly. "War is tragic" she says softly. "On every level. For the families, sick with worry. For the soldiers and knights, sick with fear. For the generals, admirals, and lieutenants sick with anxiety and for the royal, sick with guilt. Not to mention those who we lose.." He closes his eyes softly at her words as she continues. "But sometimes it is necessary, to ensure the safety of our home, our country, and all the village folk who depend on the war to go well......" She pauses. "I am sorry...for the loss of your father. He was a great King. I understand losing a father and being young." He looks at her and she smiles sadly. "But their souls are still with us, fighting with us. Helping us, easing our pain and helping in battle. Your Father died in incredible honor, and for all the right reasons. He was a worthy and kindhearted soul. But he was a fierce defender of our home as well."

"Thank you, for your kind words."

She bows. "As long as you carry his soul within your heart, you'll make the right decisions. You will save our country. I wholeheartedly believe that." He smiles slightly and listens to her words carefully. "I carry my father with me. He was all I had. My mother died in childbirth. He was part of your father's very first regime. He was thrilled, adored his King. I've been on every side of the fence. So I can feel for everyone involved." 

"I am sorry for the loss of your parents."

She nods her head. "My father was such a loyal soldier and knight to your father, that your father promised him nothing bad would come of me if he passed. And I must say, doing what I love and being honored enough to be working for Your Majesty is...more than I had ever dreamed would come of me. I owe it to your family. " She curtsies. "And your Father's kind words to mine." She finishes stitching and he had barely felt a thing.

"Thank you for stitching me. Hopefully we won't be seeing each other in worse circumstances." 

"Of course Your Majesty." She nods and curtsies. He lies back on his bed and stares at the ceiling. 

"Is there anything else I could send for, Your Majesty?"

"No, I think I may try to get a few hours worth of sleep."

"That would be wise. I will let everyone know not to disturb you. Sleep well Your Majesty." She bows and leaves his chambers.