His Majesty, The Queen

Interruptions of the Most Dismal

John appeared in Sherlock's room around seven o'clock, early enough that Sherlock had still not woken up from his pleasant bout of dreaming. In the dreams he was back in London, merely wandering about his old house while the servants went about their normal routines, the smell of his father's cigar stinking up the hall near the office door, and his brother's opera records spinning loudly on the gramophone downstairs. It was a pleasant dream, one which made him ache for nothing more but to have life back to normal, back to when he was but a careless Londoner, free to live his life so unburdened by anything as complicated as love. Though just as soon as he opened his eyes to see John standing at the foot of his bed, well perhaps the sole wish of returning home was interrupted. He smiled, though in a rather sleepy sort of way, all the while Sherlock raised his head up above the blankets, confused as to why John chose such an early hour to visit him.
"John, we don't need to be up so soon." Sherlock protested, falling back onto his pillow and tugging the blankets up to his head.
"Actually, we do. That is if you want to eat breakfast." John corrected, leaning onto Sherlock's desk and watching as the boy snuggled deeper into his bed, as if to try to ignore John's logic with his own shield of comfort.
"Modified hours, surely." Sherlock murmured sleepily.
"Not in the least. They're still going to shut at seven thirty, and so if you want to eat you better get a move on." John insisted, pulling on Sherlock's blankets as if to get him moving a bit faster. It became something of tug of war, a war that Sherlock very easily lost, and therefore he found himself lying freezing on the bed, pulling his legs tighter around himself in an attempt to conserve whatever body heat he could salvage.
"Come on, Sherlock. You can just go down in your pajamas, that's what I'm doing." John pointed out, though Sherlock had closed his eyes once more and wasn't able to look at what John was wearing. Surely he looked silly, though at the moment Sherlock didn't care to look at the real world. The world of his dreams, and the mere darkness that surrounded them, well that was certainly entertainment enough. Eventually Sherlock found himself crawling out of his bed onto his feet, though the details of how he got from his bed to the dining hall were still a blur. One moment he was lying comfortable on the warm mattress and the next he was sitting on the cold bench, staring at a pile of rather burnt bacon and wishing for nothing more than a strong cup of coffee. All the same John seemed rather content, and he began to eat at his heart's desire. Sherlock merely stared at the food, not really in the mood to eat right now. He remembered at last that it was birthday today, that today was the day he would have been legal for the military he had still be in England. It was a rather frightening thought, and such a sensitive topic that he thought it best not to bring it up. John was certainly dreading his own birthday, and all the more reminders about reaching adulthood would not be appreciated by either party. And so Sherlock stayed quiet, not wanting to disturb whatever silent treatment with such statements of despair. Thankfully he wasn't the one to interrupt their morning, as it would seem that someone else had such a goal in mind. Since the dining hall was virtually empty, some of the staff who were staying decided that they might just join the kids. Perhaps they were left to fend for themselves while the breaks were happening, as they were adults with money and skills enough to cook for themselves. Though of course that was a hassle for everyone, and Sherlock had noticed quite a lot of the professors had sat on the edge of the long table and kept mostly to themselves. Professor Trevor seemed to have a different idea, as Sherlock's breakfast was interrupted rather shockingly as a large figure clambered down next to him without any introduction at all, so abruptly that Sherlock leaned back in an attempt to fall away from what his brain automatically processed as an attacker.
"Professor!" Sherlock exclaimed abruptly, tugging his plate a little bit away from Professor Trevor's bubble of personal space. The man looked tired, dressed in his day clothes though looking as though they had been the same from the day before. His hair was done as best as he could manage, though his eyes were sagging a bit, as if he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.
"The allies have withdrawn from France. It is all but lost." The man announced quietly, leaning his head heavily upon his hands and staring blankly at the table before him. Sherlock's first thought was qu the same as the Professor's, that hallowed out feeling of despair that pitted in your stomach first before spreading quickly to your heart. The news itself was a kick in the teeth, even though Sherlock knew it wouldn't be long before such drastic measures were taken. The complete control of France meant easier access to Britain...surely their home country was next. Though that fear began to move aside, it began to relocate as he suddenly realized what that meant for his brother. Had there been a battle? Had they withdrawn because of a defeat, and if so...had Mycroft been caught in the line of fire?
"My God...my brother!" Sherlock exclaimed, his face paling as he clutched to Professor Trevor's wrist, nearly squeezing the life out of the man as he tried to process his own anxiety.
"I'm sure your brother is fine." The Professor assured, bowing his head in reassurance. "I'm not sure that it was a bloody fight, merely a scramble for safety."
"But one bullet, Professor...one bullet. I need to write to him, I need to make sure..." Sherlock insisted, looking about for anything that looked remotely sendable. His first thought was to grab a white napkin, though at last he hesitated, realizing that it really was no use to beat time. No matter how fast he posted the letter there was no guarantee it would get there, not only that, but who knew what address Mycroft would be answering through? It would be useless...no he would have to wait for Mycroft to reach out to him. That, or the war office.
"Sherlock there is no need to fret. Not for one man, at least. If you must worry, let your thoughts fall on England, for she might be next in Hitler's line of fire." the Professor trembled, closing his eyes for a short moment before at last realizing that their conversation was being closely monitored. He raised his eyes towards John, managing something of an ironic smile as he looked upon the boy they had been discussing. Perhaps he hadn't seen John personally, not since he had discovered Sherlock's feelings for him. That little glint in his blue eyes, that knowing sparkle...well frankly Sherlock was worried that it might give their entire operation away.
"Good morning, Mr. Watson. Sorry for the intrusion." Professor Trevor managed at last. John hesitated, looking towards the man as if trying to judge him as accurately as he could, given their current circumstances. Though like most he found himself just as perplexed as before, as Professor Trevor was certainly good at hiding his true feelings, and his true personality, under a thick veil of socially acceptable behavior. The man was an enigma, known only completely by very few members of the school.
"It's quite alright. You woke us up, that's for sure." John assured after a moment, before going back rather sourly to his poached egg. Sherlock hated to see that expression fall once more onto his face, that look he had been wearing for a long while of bitter silence. Surely Professor Trevor had not interrupted his good spirits? Was it the war that had been fretting John throughout that long period of time, only now come back to explode into his face once more? Could John really be so selfless, as to worry about foreign war efforts rather than his own silly little troubles?
"I suppose...well I suppose I shall be on my way then." The professor decided, tapping the table once in his finality before getting to his feet once more. Sherlock hesitated, not wanting to feel as though they had pushed him away. Though he kept his mouth shut, suspecting that John wasn't entirely thrilled at the Professor's intrusion.
"We should meet over break, tomorrow, perhaps?" Sherlock suggested anxiously, before Trevor was able to slip away too quickly.
"Tomorrow is Thanksgiving." The Professor pointed out with something of a chuckle.
"Oh...right. Well then the day after, perhaps?" Sherlock muttered with some shame, considering he should have known to hold Thanksgiving to much higher esteem. Then again, he was from England, and so he could blame him for getting his dates mixed up?
"I will let you know." The Professor assured. "My Thanksgiving is not very busy, though I do have somethings on the agenda."
"Oh yes? Going somewhere for the holiday?" Sherlock presumed. Professor Trevor hesitated, looking over towards the staff table a bit quickly before allowing his eyes to fall a bit guilty back onto where Sherlock sat.
"Reginald...Professor Musgrave, has invited me for lunch at a restaurant downtown. Certainly it should be akin to a Thanksgiving feast." He admitted in something a quiet voice, though his words would certainly travel to where John was listening in. Sherlock could help but smile, giving a little write of excitement though trying to contain himself all the same. Professor Trevor's secrets were his own to protect as well, and while this lunch date with Professor Musgrave may be perfectly platonic (as Professor Trevor had never blatantly admitted his feelings for the man), it may also be the start of something wonderful. The poor Professor had lived his life closeted and alone for as long as he had been in America, it was certainly refreshing to know that he had at least gained confidence enough to be hopeful.
"How wonderful." Sherlock insisted.
"Yes, yes it is rather." The man agreed, nodding his head as something of a goodbye and managing a rather childlike grin, before at last turning on his heel and scrambling back to his place at the table, surely were his friend was waiting. Sherlock sighed happily, repositioning himself appropriately on the bench before glancing at John once more, as if to gauge his reaction with the whole affair. The boy seemed rather quiet, however, as if something about the visit had soured his mood.
"You know we have gotten quite close, ever since that first meeting for tea." Sherlock whispered a bit happily, to which John nodded his head a bit carelessly.
"So I've noticed." He agreed quietly. "Certainly you British have to stick together."
"Indeed." Sherlock muttered, though his eyes narrowed a little bit suspiciously. There was something wrong with John once again, something that didn't seem quite right at all.
"Are we still going to go to town today? I was rather hoping to buy a little thing for my brother, for Christmas. I know it's early, but who knows when I'll get another opportunity?" Sherlock muttered.
"They let you go  down on the weekends." John offered up, though that was a vague enough answer that Sherlock allowed himself to worry. Perhaps he didn't want to go to town after all?
"Oh, okay." Sherlock murmured, looking up towards John with that innocent look of pleading upon his face. Something that rather begged for what he wanted, like a dog sitting at the edge of the dining room table with large, sad eyes. John glanced up at him once, his eyes settling upon Sherlock's and seeming to turn rather soft. As if he was just as vulnerable as anyone might be, now that Sherlock had turned on the charm.
"Yes alright." He agreed at last. "We can go down for lunch or something. I'm tired of being holed up in this school anyway."
"Wonderful." Sherlock said with a wide grin, clapping his hands together to show his enthusiasm before at last starting on his breakfast, now a lot more appetized than he had been before. In the back of his mind worry was still lingering, afraid now for England as well as for his poor brother. Though at least a ray of sunshine had penetrated his storm clouds, and a day with John may just be the thing he needed in an attempt to help him forget the peril his country now found themselves in.