Johnlock: The Prince and His Personal Guardian

Pt. 3 - Learning to Learn

Standing next to his bed, he placed the instrument under his chin and plucked a couple strings. He smiled sweetly at John and lay the bow to the strings. Drawing the bow across the strings he brought forth a melancholy melody, so sweet as to make the eyes tear up. He closed his eyes and started slowly moving about the room, eventually walking toward John. As he played, his body bent to and fro, swayed gently, or twisted slowly as if Locke were dancing a waltz. John's mouth dropped open and he stared at Locke with genuine awe. With long strokes, Locke carried the song to its soaring conclusion, and eyes still closed, stood by John's bed, breathing hard, his violin still under his chin.

Awestruck, John whispered, "That was beautiful... Sherlock. I've never heard anything so wonderful." Locke opened his eyes, smiled a quick little smile and dropped his arms to his sides, still holding his instrument and bow. Lowering his head he was humbled to be praised by this young prince whom he loved so much. (My sweet prince...)

"Thank you, Johnny. I am so pleased that you like..." He was nearly knocked down as John slammed into him, throwing his arms around his middle and hugging him hard.

"Sherlock, you are perfect..." Locke reached out to lay his violin on a wooden chest and throwing the bow to his bed, slowly wrapped his arms around John. He lay his cheek on John's silky blond hair and blinked rapidly to stem the tide of tears he felt coming. John leaned back so he could look at Locke's eyes. "Will you play for me at bedtimes? That sounded so... so heavenly ."

"Of course, My Sweet Prince, I would be very much pleased to." Locke nuzzled John's hair and loosened his hold a little. "And, now, you have put it off long enough. We must go." John knew he was teasing and much pleased himself, beamed a huge smile at Locke.

As John changed into his riding boots, Locke made John's bed, and picked up a few odds and ends that had managed to make it to the floor. Rummaging in John's less-than-organized chest-of-drawers, he found John's riding gloves. John watched off and on and ruminated on how much his "guardian" actually did for him. He almost felt guilty... almost.

Astride a huge white stallion he called Yeti, Locke was a commanding presence. His red and blue uniform, velvet top hat, soft black lambskin riding gloves, and gleaming black knee-high boots made him the most beautiful thing that John had ever seen. He glanced sideways as they rode, and observed how other people reacted to his Sherlock. The man could not be ignored. Men shook their heads, boys rode imaginary horses in circles, and women and girls... Women's and girl's eyes smoldered and they flounced their skirts and winked at Locke. Locke didn't notice. His sole attention was on John, a soft smile on his face.

As they left the castle's confines, Locke touched his crop to Yeti's flank, and the giant horse leaped forward into a moderate gait, not quite a gallop, but fast. John felt like he was plodding along on a mule, riding with this man, and tried to catch up. John was riding his mother's mare, Persephone, and the pretty little horse seemed to have a thing for Yeti, prancing and tossing her head whenever she managed to pull alongside him.

In a wildflower field, Locke slowed the pace and pulled close to John. He reached across, took John's gloved fingers in his lambskin-covered hand and rode close, holding John's hand for several minutes. John had never felt so protected, or safe, or so loved. Even as a child, walking with his mother, he hadn't felt so... so thrilled.

They rode for nearly two hours over field and hill and dale, testing their horses mettle and exhausting themselves. Turning back, both of them felt a melancholy regret that their adventure was over. They arrived back at the castle in time for the evening meal with John's parents, and Locke encouraged him to attend and be on his best behavior. (...Having learned one of John's motivators, he used it...) "Maybe we can show them that you don't need a wife to temper your proclivities." Locke bounced his brows.