Johnlock: The Prince and His Personal Guardian

Pt. 2 - Still Learning About Each Other

When it was all over, Locke hopped up and went the long way around to stand on the aisle at the end of the row with other personal guards. As John stepped into the aisle behind his mother, Locke "lock-stepped" into place behind John. John nearly giggled when he thought about, "Lock-stepped...Too funny."

When they were alone, he couldn't wait to tell Locke the joke. "Locke, did you know you 'lock-stepped' in place behind me?"

"Why, yes. That is all I can do. I am Locke. I Locke-step." John looked at his face. Locke was deadly serious.

John could only shake his head. "Idiot," he mumbled. Locke could only look confused. Over the next few days, a routine and a camaraderie developed. Locke would awaken on his tiny cot in the far corner of the room, perform his morning ablutions, brush his uniform to perfection, and consume a liquid protein breakfast. Before donning his immaculate uniform, he performed a twenty-minute workout in his boxer-brief skivvies.

Most mornings, he would awaken the prince with cocoa, and daily, having provided a small tray table, added some other tidbit to the boy's "breakfast", i. e. buttered toast triangles, fresh fruit, a boiled egg. After three days, he himself drew up a chair and sipped a fragrant tea while John consumed as little as Locke would let him get away with. (...Locke had deduced that the prince had made breakfast into a game... Who could be the most stubborn? ...)

One morning, something awoke grumpy John before Locke was ready to contend with him. John flipped over in bed, (...expecting to catch Locke assembling the prince's breakfast, and hoping to find a way to thwart him... He smiled at the thought...) and his gaze fell on Locke in mid-push-up. John was immediately wide awake and staring, fascinated by the sight.

Locke's biceps bulged, his legs and bum were taut and sculpted. Resting on his hands and toes, he lowered his trim body to the floor and then lifting his body, he threw himself into the air and touched his palms together before catching himself on the way back down. He repeated this process a few times before moving on to bicycle crunches. As he turned his head to touch his knee with the opposite elbow, his eyes were drawn to a gawking John, lying on his stomach in his bed, his hands grasping the side of the mattress, his mouth hanging open.

"How can you do that, Locke... Sherlock?" He swung his legs around and hung them off the side of the bed. Locke was wiping sweat on a small towel.

"It is not so difficult, when one does it everyday."

"Everyday? That would probably kill me." (...Locke thought to himself, "No doubt."...) "Why would you work so hard, Locke?"

"I must stay strong to protect you, John." He brushed his hair back, distracting John with the slightly curling black tresses and a couple stray droplets of sweat. Locke stood facing John in his damp skivvies, which outlined what could only be a slightly interested male member. Realizing where John's eyes had drifted, Locke dropped the hand holding the towel to the front of his abdomen. (Things were moving that shouldn't be, especially when he thought about John. "Why do I let his attention bother me so?" )

John kind of shook himself and hopped off the bed. "What are we doing today?"

"Horseback riding. May I shower before we go?" He turned his back to John and reached for his pants and shirt. "You are not usually up so early." Locke realized that he had made it sound accusatory. John looked hurt. Locke tried to soften it, "It's a nice change, John." He looked back at John to see if the comment helped. A smile was gathering at John's lips. "How about that shower?"

"May I join you?" Locke tried not to react... almost successfully. John looked hopeful.

"Sure. C'mon." He grabbed John's hand and started toward the water closet. John pulled off his drawers in a kind of hop and walk motion. ( Locke was busy reciting analysis tables and thinking about the queen mother naked. He was partially successful in distracting himself. Maybe cold water will finish me off. ) With his back to John, Locke stripped his skivvies at the edge of the shower tiles and tossed them into a hamper.