Work Text:
When I First Saw You
By Joolz
John stood on the balcony at the far side of the sweeping staircase. If he bent down and peered through the bannister slightly he could see into the depths of the brightly lit ballroom where everyone was assembled waiting for him. People had come from far and wide to attend the ball and John could think of nothing he was dreading more than the moment when he would have to walk into that room with everyone staring directly at him.
It was his Coming Of Age ball; he was now eighteen years old which meant every mother, father, aunt, uncle, godmother and godfather with a child of marriageable age and noble birth had presented themselves to the palace this evening in the hopes of winning the hand of the blonde haired, dark eyed Prince John of Bakerland.
John had seen the whole process before when he had witnessed what his sister, Harriet, had gone through four years ago. It had been terrifying to watch at a distance so having to actually experience it all at first hand was his worst nightmare. Harry had had to spend the whole night on the dance floor being waltzed around by one hopeful, prospective suitor after another, all fawning over her and hoping that they had that special something that could win her over.
Since the rule in their kingdom passed through the male line, John was under even more pressure to make his choice and the ballroom was bursting at the seams with people in their best array. They’d had so many applicants that his Father's teams of advisors had been working for months to sort out precedence and three balls had had to be organised to fit in all who had even the smallest claim. This evening’s ball was for those of the highest ranks.
John heard the tenor of the music changing and knew his big moment had, unfortunately, arrived. His Mother, Queen Molly, walked through from the antechamber and stood at the bottom of the staircase looking across to his hiding place, knowing instinctively where he would be, as this is where he and Harry always used to hide when they were children and wanted to spy on the revellers when their parents had hosted balls in the past. John stood up, straightened his shoulders and gave a little nod as he turned and made his way down the staircase to join his Mother, and his Father who had followed in behind her. King Gregory smiled at him proudly, clasping his hands around both of John’s shoulders.
“Ready to enter the fray, John?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
The King chuckled and squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, “You’ll be fine, my boy. Just try and relax, everyone is here for you.”
“I know,” John grimaced, “that’s the problem.”
Queen Molly leaned over and gave John a hug. “You’ll be fine, darling. Just be your charming self and you can’t go wrong. We love you.”
“Thank you, Mother.” John took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height and nodded again. “Let’s get this started then.
They grinned at him, nodded and stepped forward. His parents clasped arms and moved to the doorway just as the royal fanfare rang out to announce the arrival of the King and Queen. All eyes turned to the couple and, as one, the whole room bowed and curtsied as the pair made their way through the room towards the raised dais at the far end where their thrones awaited them. On the left hand side was another throne awaiting John’s arrival and on the right were two other thrones for Princess Harriet and her wife, Princess Clara who were already in place as the latter was just over eight months pregnant and Harry had insisted that Clara shouldn’t have to stand more than was necessary, even if it was John’s Coming Of Age Ball.
John watched as his Mother and Father sat down, followed by Harry and Clara who had been helped to her feet for the arrival of the King and Queen and now sat quickly again. John didn’t think she was going to last another two weeks and wouldn’t be surprised if he became an Uncle in the next day or two. He had spent a lot of time when he was growing up observing the palace doctor and had seen many pregnancies, though he had never actually witnessed a birth yet, they’d always chased him out of the room at that point. His parents had always indulged his interest in medicine and allowed him extra time from his other studies for it, but they all knew it would only ever remain an interest not anything more substantial as he must follow in his Father’s footsteps.
When the royal family were all seated the fanfare rose again and John straightened up even more, if that were possible, tweaked his ceremonial sash into position and stepped forward into the doorway. He was almost blinded as all the lights shone on him and everyone turned and bowed to him. He blushed a deep red before clearing his throat and marching briskly down the aisle, eyes facing towards the front as he was surrounded by a sea of colour in his peripheral vision, all the ball gowns and jewels sparkling and trying to catch his eye, as indeed, were their wearers. He walked up to the thrones and stopped in front to bow to first his Father, then his Mother. He nodded his head to Harry and Clara, who gave him a shy smile, telling him in her own way that he was doing fine, and then he moved over and sat perfectly straight on his throne beside his Father who smiled over at him and raised his eyebrow slightly to ask if he was ready and when John nodded imperceptibly back, the King stood to address his people.
“Welcome everyone. We’d like to thank you all for coming this evening to celebrate the coming of age of our beloved son, John. It’s hard to believe this time is upon us already. It only seems a short while ago he was tripping over his own feet, chasing across the nursery trying to keep up with his big Sister.”
“Father!” John muttered, reddening as he looked up at his Father, who smiled indulgently down at him, as a wave of quiet laughter swept through the room.
“And now here we are, a full grown man, looking to find someone with whom to share his life and make him as happy as I have been since finding my own partner.” He turned and smiled happily at Molly, who looked up at him with her own adoring expression and a twinkle in her eye.
“So I say again, welcome to you all and may you have a wonderful evening. Let the festivities begin.”
He waved to the group of musicians in the far corner of the room and sat down. The musicians started playing quiet background music and the first part of the evening began - the line-up. King Gregory's chief advisor, Anderson, stood to the side of the dais where the royal family were all seated with the exception of John who stepped forward to stand to the side of his Father at the edge of the stage ready to greet all his guests personally.
Anderson had a long, ceremonial scroll and as each group approached the thrones he read out their names and the family all bowed to the King and Queen and then the prospective suitor took a step forward and either bowed to John and shook his hand or curtsied to him and allowed him to take their hand and delicately kiss the back of it. The procedure was exhaustive and had had to be so tightly controlled to ensure that no-one’s nose was put out of joint by being introduced after someone else above whom they felt themselves to be ranked more highly. John just trusted that Anderson had done his job correctly and smiled politely at everyone in turn.
When the introductions had all been done finally – the names and faces all blurring together to John there were so many of them – the next stage of the evening began, the dancing. John had to start off the first dance and then other couples would all be free to join in around him as they wished. His first partner was led to him and he took her hand and walked out into the centre of the floor, trying not to look away from his partner and notice that everyone was staring at him. The music started up and after the obligatory bows the dance began.
~*~
John felt as though his feet hadn’t stopped moving all night. He had been passed from one suitor to another and had barely had time to draw breath from one dance to the next. He’d never remember the names of these people as they passed in front of him. They just all swirled in one after another, a simpering smile here, a faltering two step there, a girl with a rather large mole on her nose, a young man with two left feet who spent most of the dance apologising to John every time they had to restart after he trod on John’s toes again.
Finally, after two solid hours of dancing the gong rang out and the butler announced that refreshments would be served in the dining hall. Everyone slowly filed out to get some food and drink and John quickly excused himself from his last partner and went back to his throne, far more interested in resting his legs than having anything to eat. One of the pages came over with a goblet of wine for him which he drank gratefully and then leaned his head against the back of the throne and stared up at the glittering decorations around the ceiling as he drew breath and thought over all the encounters he’d had so far.
Not one of them had jumped out at him as his ‘soul mate’. A few had been very attractive, others had been just the opposite, but he was sure he wouldn’t find his true love on beauty alone anyway. He liked people who stirred his mind as well his eyes and provided more interesting conversation than the many variations of ‘How handsome you look this evening, your Highness’, ‘Doesn’t the room look spectacular, Prince John’, ‘Hasn’t the weather been funny today, Sire’, which he had received countless times so far.
He supposed he had been expecting too much. Looking for a sign, a spark – something close to what his parents shared. He knew what they had was true love and their marriage had been a very happy one as a consequence. Now they wanted the same for John, of course, and he just hoped the rest of the evening would provide some more sparkling company than that provided by the first part.
~*~
The guests starting making their way back in and the musicians were waiting for the cue to start the second round of dancing. John was idly watching the hall filling up when he saw a head of dark, curly hair bobbing higher than the majority of the people by the patio windows. As the dark haired man weaved his way through the crowd, John caught a glimpse of a strong cheek bone and full pink lips, but he couldn’t make out the whole face. Even though John had been watching his progress across the room he was still surprised when all of a sudden, the young man was standing in front of him. He bent deeply from the waist, sweeping a long graceful bow to John and then peeked up at him through his long eyelashes.
"Hello, your Highness. May I have this dance?"
A quiver went through John’s soul as he let the deep, dulcet tones wash over him. He had no idea who this young man was; he definitely would have remembered if he'd been introduced to him. Anderson had not yet reached him with the next suitor, so John leapt to his feet and extended his arm.
"I'd be delighted." He took hold of the man's hand and together they walked out to the centre of the dance floor. The musicians started playing when they saw the Prince take to the floor and John allowed himself to settle into a smooth waltz, leading the other man gracefully around the room, immediately impressed with his poise and style.
"I don't think I've had the pleasure of an introduction," John looked up at the man who was at least half a head taller than he was himself, but that was not something John had ever had a problem with. He had had years to get used to his lack of height.
"Introductions are boring, don't you think. Now what is more interesting is why you changed your boots at the last minute, those are not the ones you had made to go with your outfit."
John gaped at him, "How on earth did you know that?"
"You have a faint line in the nap of the material above your calves and it is one eighth of an inch higher than the boots you are currently wearing, hence you must have changed them after first getting dressed. This pair that you have on have been worn on three other occasions and have settled into the shape of your feet slightly and, therefore, I'm sure, feel more comfortable."
"That was amazing", gasped John, "and completely right. I only decided to swap them at the last minute when I felt a slight tightness across my toes in the other pair and thought I might be better served by these. It's a good job I did, too, I don't think my toes would have survived after the efforts of one of my earlier dance partners."
“Well I hope I don’t cause you any similar problems.”
“I really don’t see how you could. I’m more worried that I’m going to damage you than the other way round.”
“Nonsense,” the man smiled at John and bent forward and dipped him down with a sweep of his arm and then brought him back up and looked deep in his eyes. “I’m sure your dancing teacher would be proud … a woman in her late forties who was two inches taller than yourself and came from Scotland, the Highlands, in fact.”
“How can you possibly…?” John shook his head and laughed.
“You hold your arm comfortably on my back at a slightly higher position than is usual for someone of your height, therefore, you were taught to hold it in that position to match the height of the person with whom you were dancing. You perform a slight flick of your ankle when you go into a left sided turn which is a peculiarity only common in the Highlands of Scotland. Finally, you bowed your neck in a curve when I dipped you which you could only have learned from watching a woman in her late 40’s performing the manoeuvre as it was only in vogue for a short time about 30 years ago, which would have been when she herself was learning to dance.”
John just gaped at the man in his arms and almost missed a step until he felt the other compensate for his stuttered footstep and turn them with a half step in the opposite direction.
“You are absolutely spot on. Mrs Turner is all of those things. You’re some kind of genius. Extraordinary, quite extraordinary!”
“Really? That’s not what people usually say.”
“What do people usually say?”
“Piss off.”
John burst out laughing, drawing the attention of many of the dancing couples surrounding them and of Anderson who was looking for him. Anderson didn’t recognise the tall, young man as anyone he had written down to come next and hoped there wasn’t going to be an uproar from the parents of the next suitor, thinking they had been pushed out of turn. He was so busy checking through to see who the man could be that he missed the end of the dance and John was able to carry straight through and, in an almost unheard of move, he managed to squeeze in a second dance.
The surrounding couples all looked on in shock that John hadn’t swapped to someone new; who could this man be that he warranted a double slot; their child hadn’t been granted that boon; nor had the Prince laughed so freely with anyone else, only giving out polite smiles to all with whom he had danced so far.
John, himself, took no notice of the looks he was receiving, in fact, he didn’t even see anyone else around him, he only had eyes for the man in front of him. He had never met anyone like him before. He was completely captivated.
“Please, give me your first name at least, I can’t just call you ‘that handsome man’.”
“You consider me handsome?”
“Oh come off it, you can’t possibly not have been called that before. You know that you’re gorgeous.”
“I take no notice of what others may say to me; the epithets more often run along the lines of ‘freak’ than anything pleasant.”
John looked appalled, “Then you obviously hang out with the wrong sort of people.”
The man laughed, “I suppose I do at that. Maybe I’m trying to change that… Sherlock. That’s my name.”
“Sherlock… I like it, it’s unusual and it suits you. Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Sherlock and, not to be forward but I find myself wanting to get to know you better, can I see you again?.”
“Just like that? Isn’t there some whole protocol nightmare?”
“I could care less about all that bureaucratic nonsense. All I know is - I like you. You’re the first person tonight who hasn’t made me feel like I’m some prize at the county fair. I just want you to take me somewhere we can be alone and we can talk properly.
“There is nothing I’d like more, your Highness, but…”
“Just John, please.”
“Well, Just John,” Sherlock smiled, “nothing would give me more pleasure, but I don’t think we’re going anywhere right now.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Well, unless I’m severely mistaken - and I never am – we’re going to be separated in about 30 seconds.”
“What? No! They can’t do that.” John looked around frantically, “I want to spend time with you. I have to see you again, there must be a way. You… us… this means something, right? And I still don’t even know what you do – or your full name!
“You’re probably just about to get the answers to all those questions. All I ask is that you don’t think too badly of me. None of it is true, whatever they may say. Have faith in me.”
At that point Sherlock’s arms were pulled away from John by a guard standing on either side of him, they marched him out of the room towards the entrance hall. John followed behind trying to pull them away from Sherlock, but they wouldn’t let go. When they got to the foyer John saw his Father with Anderson and Captain Dimmock, the head of the palace guard, all standing with angry expressions, glaring at Sherlock.
“Shut the door, Anderson,” said King Gregory. “Captain, do you want to explain to me how this boy got into the palace, to a private event to which he was not invited and has been prancing around the room with his arms around my son for the last God knows how long without a single one of your men noticing?.”
“Father, it’s ok. I wanted to be dancing with him. He’s interesting. Just stop this please.”
“Keep out of this, John; you don’t even know who he is.”
“I don’t care who he is,” John exclaimed. “I know enough to know that I like him and I want to get to know him myself.”
“Well, I’m sorry, John, that won’t be happening. You’ll never be seeing him again if I have any say in the matter. This is a Holmes from Whitehall. The King’s own Brother if Anderson here is to be believed and you will have nothing to do with him. He is banished from this kingdom, as are all of his kin. I don’t even know how he got across the border in the first place, but it certainly won’t be happening again.”
The King looked at Sherlock and pointed his finger at him, “You stay away from John. I never want to see you here again.” Then he turned to Dimmock, scowling, “Have your men escort him to the border and make sure he doesn’t come back.”
“At once, your Majesty.” Dimmock nodded to his men and they marched Sherlock towards the exit.
John ran forward and tried again to grab Sherlock’s arm away from one of the guards. “No, Sherlock, you can’t go. This can’t be it. Tell them they’re wrong. Say something.”
“I’m sorry, John, there’s nothing I can say right now, they won’t listen to me. Just remember what I said,” and with that Sherlock turned back and allowed the guards to lead him away.
John stood at the top of the stairs, his eyes filling up with angry tears at the unfairness of it all as he watched Sherlock being pushed into a carriage which then drove off down the long, sweeping drive and out of sight. He turned and went back in, glaring at his Father who was waiting for him.
“How could you do that? He didn’t do anything wrong. We were just talking! He is the only person of any interest here. You and Mother told me to find someone who made me feel that spark, and I think he was it, but you didn’t give me the chance to find out.”
“John you are young. You know nothing of the world and its people; that is partly our fault for sheltering you so much all these years, but even you are aware of the trouble we’ve been having along our borders with the Holmes’ kingdom. I don’t want any of them on our land and certainly not in our home. I have no idea how that boy got in, but it certainly won’t be happening again.”
“I’m going to my room,” John announced, his voice as cold as the stare he levelled at his father, and headed off for the staircase.
“You are not, young man. You’ll go right back into that ballroom and dance with the rest of the suitors who have gone to all the time and trouble to come here to celebrate with you. It is your duty; to me, to your Mother and to your Country to represent us here tonight and you can’t let any of us down.”
That was probably the only thing that could stop John making his escape up the stairs. He had a strong sense of loyalty and duty, both to his family and to his people and he could not let them down, no matter how angry he was with his Father right now. He heaved a deep sigh, straightened his shoulders and turned back to his Father.
“Let’s get this over with, then,” he said.
“That’s it, John, I knew you had it in you. Now big smiles, pretend this never happened and just go straight on to the dance floor and Anderson will bring your next partner.”
His father nodded at Anderson who rushed forward and opened the door leading the way back into the ballroom, spotting the next suitor on the way, and escorting her over to dance with the Prince and the whole torturous process began again.
~*~
John woke up the next morning and didn’t want to move. His feet ached and his mind was racing. He had never danced so much in his life and the effort of keeping a smile on his face had been almost as strenuous. He had only known Sherlock for the length of two dances and he just couldn’t stop thinking about him. He wanted to find out more about him – who was he kidding – he wanted to find out everything about him. John had never met anyone he had had such an instant connection with. He could imagine himself drowning in those deep cerulean eyes… He hadn’t even had a chance to touch that face - feel those cheekbones for himself, and just maybe see if those beautiful, bow lips were as soft as they appeared.
What was the matter with him? Was this… love - was it possible to fall in love in quarter of an hour? He shouldn’t be ridiculous, of course it wasn’t. Did he even believe in love at first sight? He thought about his own parents. His Father had always said that he just knew that Molly was the one for him as soon as he saw her. Was that what was happening to John?
Brooding wouldn’t help him now, there was only one way to find out if his feelings were real, he needed to see Sherlock. His Father had seemed pretty angry about everything last night, but maybe he would have calmed down by now and they could talk about it rationally. He had to try at least.
John quickly got washed and dressed and hobbled down on his still sore feet to the smaller dining room where the family usually had breakfast. Only his Mother was there when he arrived. It wasn’t unusual for his Father to already be about his business, but Harry could usually be relied on to be hanging around for a later breakfast, she never seemed to get up early.
“Morning, Mother. Where is Father?” he asked as he bent to kiss his Mother’s cheek. “Harry and Clara not here yet?”
“Good morning, darling. Your Father is already in his office and Harry said that Clara had a touch of backache so she ordered up some breakfast in bed for the two of them. How are you feeling this morning yourself?”
“My feet are aching a little, I have to admit. It was quite painful attempting the stairs this morning.”
“Oh you poor thing,” his mother replied. “Never mind, your muscles should loosen up again in time for the next ball, and then you get to do this all over again!”
Grimacing at the thought, John decided to quickly move on to his main objective. “Mother, did Father tell you about what happened last night?”
“Yes he did, dear, and he’s sorting it out right now. How on earth that boy could have got on to the premises, we just don’t know.”
“Mother,” John interrupted, “I don’t care how he got here, just that he did. I…, well, I like him. Do you think Father will allow me to visit him - to talk to him.”
“No I don’t think so. He was very upset when he was telling me last night. You know how he feels about the Holmes’ after those poor souls were found dead on the border between our countries. They never owned up to it either, which would at least have made it a bit easier to open negotiations again, if they had admitted their guilt.”
“Maybe they didn’t do it; maybe that’s why they won’t admit to it. I don’t know why but I trust Sherlock and he said not to believe these accusations against them.”
“Don’t be foolish, John. Why would you take his word for it, after one dance, when we’ve got that arrow haft showing quite clearly it was them?”
“It was two dances, and he was different mother… he was intelligent, he could read people like they were a book, I trust him. I… I think I like him, I mean, *really* like him. Will you help me, please. Could you speak to Father, you know he always listens to you.”
“Oh John, I don’t think he would this time. I’m sorry.” His Mother patted his arm. “Don’t worry; you’ve got two more balls coming up and you’re bound to meet someone you like at one of them. You’ll soon get over this boy.”
Leaving no room for further discussion, the Queen got up, kissed her son on the forehead, and headed off to her chambers to start her day. She headed many charities and there was always something needing her attention.
John just sat at the table, staring at his food, no longer feeling the least bit hungry. He just didn’t know what he could do. No-one would believe him about his feelings for Sherlock – he still wasn’t completely sure he believed them himself. But still, he knew, deep down, that Sherlock had told him the truth and he believed him. Maybe Sherlock would be able to think of a way round it. He was clever. John would just have to have faith that Sherlock could figure something out.
John didn’t see his Father for the rest of the day as he was holed up with Dimmock and Anderson, presumably trying to figure out what had gone wrong with their security procedures. John didn’t care though, all he was worried about was that this would make it harder for Sherlock to come back.
~*~
The rest of the week seemed to drag to John. He wasn’t looking forward to going through the hassle of another ball, but he attended his extra fittings and nodded when people told him how excited he must be to be having another party. ‘Little do they know,’ he thought. Even if he hadn’t met Sherlock, he still wouldn’t have been looking forward to being put on show again.
The only real excitement that week was the arrival of Harry and Clara’s baby. John had been correct in thinking Clara wouldn’t last two more weeks and the backache that had begun the day after the party turned out to be the start of labour and little Princess Emily Katherine was born in the early hours of the following day. She was a little beauty and the whole palace was, of course, instantly smitten with the new arrival.
~*~
As the morning of the ball arrived, John noticed more than the usual amount of guards being stationed in the grounds and found his spirits sinking just that little bit lower. He didn’t know why he even thought Sherlock would be coming; hope was a dangerous thing his father had always told him. It just seemed like too good of an opportunity for Sherlock to miss; he would be able to hide and mingle with the other guests and avoid the guards.
Just as with the first ball, John found himself waiting on the balcony above the foyer for everything to begin. He had secreted himself there a little earlier this time though so that he could watch all the people as they arrived. Unfortunately, he had spotted no sign of the wavy, black hair or high cheekbones he was longing for and everyone was in place in the ballroom waiting for the arrival of the royal family. Maybe Sherlock was in disguise, he thought hopefully, but then sighed to himself. Who was he kidding? There was no way Sherlock could have gotten past those guards at the door without an invitation and the grounds were being patrolled constantly. He was just going to have to face the fact that he was in for another evening of monotony and sore feet.
His parents and sister appeared at the bottom of the stairs so John made his way over to join them and wait for the music to start before they all made their appearance.
~*~
Well, he’d been right; dull wasn’t even the word to describe his evening, he’d already had enough dancing to last a lifetime and they hadn’t even paused for refreshments yet.
As the gong rang, John went back to his throne and sat down. When the page brought him his drink, he also passed him a slip of paper. John took them both and headed through the door behind the throne into the little anteroom which had been put aside for his use during the evening. He scrambled to open the note.
*The door to the patio is unlocked. Wait ‘til you hear the owl hoot twice then make your way quickly to the rose arbour. Keep low. SH*
John felt a thrill of excitement flow through him. Sherlock had done it. He’d actually made it here and was waiting for him. He ran to the patio door and stepped outside. He leant with his back against the wall and listened as hard as he could for a hoot.
There it was! John ducked down low and almost scuttled across the lawn towards the arbour, running as quickly as he could in that awkward position. He sprang forward and tucked himself behind one of the arches, obviously just in time as he saw a guard come round the corner of the building, walking towards the door through which he had just exited.
John looked around, but he couldn’t see Sherlock anywhere. Then he felt the wind whistle past him and Sherlock dropped down from the archway where he had been hanging, presumably keeping an eye out for the patrols.
John couldn’t help himself; he just grabbed hold of the other man and hugged him with all his might. Sherlock was stiff for a moment, until he let himself relax and wrapped his own arms around John and pulled him close, resting his cheek on the top of John’s head as John’s head tucked into Sherlock’s neck. He hadn’t felt anything like this before, but he liked it.
“I never thought I’d see you again. I hoped.., but I didn’t see how you would be able to do it,” John sighed happily into Sherlock’s neck. “But thank goodness you did. I missed you. I know it makes no sense for me to be saying that… I mean, I just met you… but I did. Thank you. Thank you for coming back.”
Sherlock smirked at John’s babbling. “You’re different, John. I could tell instantly. I had to come back and see you. We didn’t have time to talk and we don’t have much time now either. I know the guard patrol routes and we only have about 30 minutes until you’ll be missed.”
“Sherlock, if we don’t have much time…, which we don’t, obviously, and… well I was wondering and, of course, you can say no… it’s just I’ve been thinking about this all week… not in a weird way… but oh I don’t know just… just… may I kiss you. Please. I’ve been dreaming about you, imagining if those lips were as soft as they looked.”
Sherlock looked perplexed. He’d never had anyone be so forward with him before. Not anyone he’d wanted to be anyway. “O.. O.. Of course, John,” he stuttered, unsure what to do next.
John didn’t seem to have any such problem. He reached up and put a hand on either side of Sherlock’s face, rubbing his thumbs over those sharp cheek bones and pulling Sherlock’s lips down towards him. John pressed against them gently, placing little kisses to the corner of his mouth and when he slid his tongue along the seam Sherlock gasped and opened his mouth and John deepened the kiss, tasting all he could of the man in front of him.
After his initial surprise, Sherlock reciprocated eagerly. This was his first real kiss and he couldn’t get enough of it. He followed John’s lead and they kissing for what seemed like an age before stopping to gasp for breath and soft interspersing, nibbles instead.
Loath as he was, Sherlock eventually had to pull away. He knew he didn’t have long before John had to be back and he needed a few moments to talk to him.
“John,” he kissed the corner of John’s mouth.
“Mmmph.”
“John, we need to stop.”
“In… minute… don’t wanna... stop,” John said in between each kiss as he worked his way across to the skin behind Sherlock’s ear and sucked gently and grazed his teeth along the skin down the side of his neck.
Sherlock shivered delightedly and tilted his neck further to the side, allowing John to carry on, his pleasure increasing. “Oh, John,” he moaned.
John laughed against Sherlock, sending hot, little ripples of air over the wet skin he had just been kissing, making Sherlock groan again.
Sherlock reluctantly pulled away again. “No, really, John. We need to talk a minute.”
“Yeah, ok,” John agreed, leaning his forehead against Sherlock’s and pressing a last soft kiss to his lips as he stood up straight. “So, what are we going to do, then?”
“That’s just it, John. I can’t do anything until this whole situation between our borders is sorted. We haven’t done any of the things we’ve been accused of. My brother may be a fool, but even he wouldn’t willingly jeopardise an important alliance. He has been trying to make peace with your Father, but he just won’t even entertain the possibility that Mycroft isn’t behind it all. The evidence is certainly very damning.”
“What are we going to do then?”
“’We’ aren’t going to do anything. I am going to investigate on my own and provide incontrovertible proof of what is going on so that your Father will absolve Mycroft and our two kingdoms can be allies once more. Well, to be honest, I don’t care if the kingdoms are at peace, I just want us to at least be able to see each other and we can’t if things continue on like this.”
“That sounds dangerous; you can’t do that on your own. You don’t know how long it would take, or what you’d have to do. How would you even investigate something like that? Let me, at least, help you.”
“You can’t, John. I need you to stay here and be safe.”
“I’m not some kind of child. You don’t need to protect me, I can look after myself,” John huffed angrily.
“I know, John, but you’re a distraction I can’t afford. If I’m thinking about you then I won’t be concentrating on what I’m doing and I want to get this done as quickly as possible. You know what I do, how I observe things, I won’t be able to do that if all I’m observing are things about you instead.”
“Really,” John smiled, “I distract you that much.” He leaned in and kissed Sherlock again. “I hope you don’t find this too distracting?”
“Johhhhhhn,” Sherlock exclaimed, almost forgetting his line of thought as he deepened their kiss. “This isn’t helping.”
“Wasn’t trying to,” John chuckled. “I’m sure I could still do something. I don’t know when I’ll see you again otherwise.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can. I have my suspicions about who is behind it all, but I’ll just need to get proof and stop it all from happening again.”
“I’ll miss you.” John sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around Sherlock’s waist and hiding his face in Sherlock’s neck as he continued. “Sherlock, I know this will seem crazy and probably sound naive and ridiculous because I’ve been in your presence for less than an hour in total, but I… well, I think I love you. I’ve thought about you all week and I want to spend all my time with you, I can only see my future with you in it, and I am going to stop talking now, oh my God, why am I babbling.”
Sherlock put his hand under John’s chin and raised John’s face up until he was looking directly into Sherlock’s eyes. “It’s not crazy at all. I don’t know how it happened, but I feel the same way. You are so special to me. That’s why I have to do this, so that we can see each other again. You understand, don’t you?”
“Well, now that I know that you at least feel the same way, that helps. But, I still don’t like it, Sherlock. I want to come with you.”
“You know you can’t, John. Mycroft couldn’t care less where I go half the time - well, as long as he thinks he has his little spies trailing me, even though I give them the slip most of the time – but there’d be a countrywide manhunt for you after an hour, let alone however long this is going to take. In fact, you should go back now; they’ll be looking for you to start the dancing again. The show must go on, as they say.”
“Oh Sherlock, I’ll miss you so much. Please sort it as quickly as you can and be careful, you can’t let anything happen to you, I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t come back to me.”
Sherlock held John’s face between his cupped hands. “Close your eyes.” When John did so, Sherlock bent forward and kissed him gently on first one closed eyelid and then the other, followed by the tip of his nose and then his lips. “Now picture me standing here in front of you, kissing you and save that thought in your memory so you’ll always be able to come back to this moment and remember us whenever you need to.”
John looked around him, memorising the arbour and how Sherlock looked in the reflected lights from the party, then he pulled him down for another deep kiss, before pulling away reluctantly.
“You’d better go then, before anyone catches you, otherwise I might not let you go at all.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Sherlock laughed tightly, “I might just let you.” He looked around to work out where the guards were in their patrols and realised that John would have to go right now if he was going to get back inside the palace without being spotted.
“You’ve got to go, John. Slip back in and lock the door behind you - here’s the key - they’ll never know you’ve been gone.” Sherlock pushed John gently on the shoulder, “go on, quickly before the guard comes back.”
“I love you, Sherlock. Take care of yourself and come back to me. I’ll be waiting.” John leaned in for one more quick kiss and put his finger to Sherlock’s lips, “Just marking my place,” he said and then he was gone, running across the lawn, keeping low.
Sherlock watched John until he went in, locked the door and put his hand up to the window to say goodbye. When he turned away, Sherlock touched his finger to his lips, as if he, too, was marking his place and then he took off, slipping through the grounds, keeping to the shadows and making his way back home to make sense of this mess so that he could return to John. His John.
~*~
~*~
John sat quietly in the rose arbour, where he seemed to spend half his life these days. If he wasn't performing his royal duties then this was where he ended up. It had been four months to the day since he'd last seen Sherlock and he was missing him badly.
He closed his eyes and thought back over that last night again. Just as Sherlock had told him, he pictured the taller man leaning over and pressing delicate kisses to his face and then he imagined him with the light shining in his eyes before he bent to kiss him deeply. When John sat there in the arbour, picturing his beloved it almost felt as if Sherlock was there with him and John wanted nothing more than to escape the monotony that his life had become to spend his time dreaming of Sherlock.
He recalled how he had spent the rest of the ball almost floating around the dance floor. When he'd gone back in through the patio, Anderson said he'd been knocking for ages on the outer door, waiting for John to come out to finish the rest of the party, and had almost had to send for the housekeeper to come with the spare keys as John had not been answering. John gave some excuse of having been deep in thought and not hearing the knocking, and though Anderson looked sceptical, he had to let it go. John had danced with partner after partner, bluffing his way through superficial conversations, taking little notice of one person over another, just thinking about the man he had been kissing.
A similar thing occurred at the final ball. John hadn't even been anxious about that one; he had just used the memory of Sherlock's first dance with him to get through it - thinking only 'Sherlock wouldn't have stepped like that', 'Sherlock held my shoulder much more easily', 'He doesn't look half as elegant as Sherlock did in his suit'. To say John was smitten was an understatement.
When he wasn't sitting in the garden, he seemed to be sitting in on meetings with his Father, learning the duties of the kingdom, which he was happy enough to do as he wanted to be a good ruler when his time came, but his mind was elsewhere. He believed in Sherlock and knew that he was trying to sort out their problems so that they could be together and he would just have to trust that it would be over soon.
~*~
~*~
Christmas came and went. John had acted jovial for his family’s benefit, but his heart wasn’t in it. The only joy he gained had been from playing with baby Emily who had loved looking at all the sparkly lights and decorations, and pulling apart all the wrapping paper, more interested in that than what was concealed within most of the time.
It had now been almost ten months since he'd last seen Sherlock, and he was getting desperate. He was starting to forget how Sherlock's hair had smelled as they’d embraced in the arbour. Were his eyes a blue-grey colour or more of a grey-blue? Surely he should have heard something by now? Wouldn't Sherlock have tried to get a note to him or pass on a message somehow? He paid close attention to all the briefings his Father received about happenings within their country and the surrounding border lands, but nothing seemed relevant to what Sherlock had been doing. There was still trouble with the Whitehall border and some of it even seemed to be getting a little worse rather than getting better so he didn't know what Sherlock was doing, but he really hoped he wasn't in trouble. It was worrying in the extreme, but John kept his faith. He trusted Sherlock, he did, really he did.
~*~
~*~
Eighteen months - it had been eighteen months and there was still nothing from Sherlock. Something could’ve happened to him; was he injured somewhere? Or dead even? Had he just gone back home and forgotten all about John? The thoughts just kept swirling around John's head, doubts pressing on him more and more often the longer it went on.
The one year anniversary had been especially hard. He had wanted to spend the day alone and lose himself in thoughts of his lost love, but his Mother had wanted to talk of parties and whether or not they should hold some more as John had still not found anyone. John had said no instantly - he couldn’t think of anyone else while his Sherlock could be lost to his wandering or worse, and he spent most of the day dissuading her. She agreed to give him a bit longer to think, she could tell something wasn’t quite right with him, but she was rather under pressure from not only her husband, but the royal advisors as well who all wanted to ensure the line of succession.
John had tried explaining to them about Sherlock so many times, telling them that Sherlock was innocent and that what they had was special and maybe, he thought, he just maybe even loved him, but his parents, kind and wonderful people though they were, just didn’t want to listen to him. Even though his Father had often said he knew instantly that Molly was the one for him, he couldn't accept that John could have that same instant of clarity with a 'Holmes'. In the end John just gave up trying to convince them and didn't mention it, but he knew his parents were both upset to constantly see him so sad and tensions were rising.
~*~
~*~
It had been two whole years since John had last seen Sherlock on that summer night in the garden and he had practically given up hope that he would ever see him again.
John now had a nephew as well as a niece. Clara had given birth two months ago and Samuel Gregory John had been welcomed to their family. It was the Christening in a week and John had ordered an extravagant wooden rocking horse to be carved for the baby and decided to ride over to the next town to see how the construction was going. As he was riding back towards home he saw a horseman silhouetted on the crest of the hill ahead. John couldn't make out any facial details, but there was just something about the shape of that outline that struck him as familiar. John felt a tingling anticipation flow through him. No, it couldn't be, could it? That straight back, the curly hair, those long legs, John couldn't be sure of what he was seeing, but he needed to get closer and find out. Right now.
He pressed his heels into his horse and charged up the hill. It was…; it really was! As he got closer he could see more and more of that beautiful face revealing itself, his high cheekbones, his bright beautiful eyes, a smirk curved on his sculpted lips…, it was actually Sherlock sat there. John just reined in for a moment, unable to believe his eyes. Was this real, he had imagined seeing him so many times, pictured him so often and now he was here…
Sherlock dismounted gracefully and walked over towards John. John swung his leg over his own horse, but as he went to stand he felt his legs start to buckle as the disbelief of it all kicked in and he would have fallen to the ground if he hadn't been caught by a strong pair of arms, making him instantly feel safe. John raised his hand and ran his fingers down Sherlock's cheek; needing to ground himself with physical contact.
"Sherlock, is this real? Where have you been?" John felt a tear slide down his cheek. "I've missed you so much. I've been so alone without you. I kept waiting, but you never came back."
"John. My dearest John," Sherlock sighed as he rubbed his thumb across the fallen tear. "I'm sorry it's taken so long. I've missed you too. So much."
Sherlock leaned forward, and, as he had done once before on that long ago day, he pressed a kiss to each of John's eyelids, followed by the tip of his nose and then he gently touched his lips to John's, revelling in the feeling of having the man he loved in his arms again.
John gasped as he felt the touch of Sherlock's lips and he grabbed hold of Sherlock's head and kissed him back hard, deepening the kiss, tongues tangling and breath mingling as the two men re-learned how the other tasted.
When they eventually came up for air, John felt Sherlock taking his arms and holding him still for a minute. He looked up into Sherlock's eyes and saw the way he was tensing up. John, pessimist that he was, thought it meant Sherlock was going to leave him. Had this been a brief gesture of pity before a final goodbye?
Sherlock looked at him and immediately deduced what John was thinking. He shook his head, "No, John, no, don't think that. I just need... just give me a moment."
John released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and waited, looking at Sherlock, with still just a hint of anxiety in his eyes. Sherlock tried to smile at him, but John could tell he was still nervous. John gasped again as Sherlock dropped down on one knee and took his hand.
"John. My John. I know I've been terrible, making you wait all this time, but I've finally solved all our problems. Everything has been sorted out. The borders have been cleared, my family has been proven innocent and I've straightened everything out with your Father, who has forgiven me and apologised for believing the evidence brought before him without checking it out for himself."
John couldn't help interrupting at that point, "What? My Father apologised to you? What happened, what did he say?"
"John, I haven't finished," Sherlock frowned, "I've been working on my speech for days and you're spoiling it."
John almost felt like bursting into laughter as he looked at Sherlock's pouting face. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. Go on, please."
"As I was saying, I've solved all our problems and spoken with your Father and now I have just one question to ask you.” Sherlock reached into his coat pocket and brought out a black, velvet box which he snapped open and held up to John. “John, I love you and always will. Will you marry me?”
“Sherlock," John couldn't contain himself, he beamed down at the beautiful man in front of him, putting his hands around Sherlock's head and pulling him in against his body for a moment, before falling to his own knees beside him. "Yes, yes, a hundred times, yes. I love you with my whole heart. My dreams of you were all that kept me going when I felt at my lowest ebb and even when I was doubting that I would ever see you again I could never completely extinguish my trust in you. You've invaded my soul and set up home there for the last two years, and to have you back again and wanting to be with me forever has made my life complete. I would love to marry you.”
Sherlock grabbed John's face and kissed him passionately, then he was laughing in relief, interspersed with kisses and "John"'s as they hugged each other desperately, happy to finally be back in each other’s arms.
~*~
John and Sherlock eventually decided their knees had had enough, even if the rest of them never wanted to stop. They re-mounted and rode back towards John's home, keeping as close together as possible so they could reach out to touch often, not wanting to be separated now that they were finally together.
“So, tell me everything. What happened, where have you been, what did you have to do, why did it take so long, why didn’t you get in touch with me?”
“Good questions all, John, but one at a time, please,” Sherlock laughed. “Of course I’ll tell you; that’s the least you deserve after you’ve waited for me for so long.”
“Well, of course, I waited for you; how could I not.” John squeezed Sherlock’s hand, “You’re my life.”
Sherlock blushed and squeezed back. “First I had to go home and set things up with my network of traders; they’re able to travel from kingdom to kingdom without obstruction so I use them to gather information from some of the maids who buy their wares. I also know some musicians who travel around and entertain royalty, the perfect place to learn the latest royal secrets. So I sent several of them into Moriville to see what they could discover for me.”
“Moriville?” John interrupted, “Did you suspect the Regent, Prince James?”
“Yes, I was sure it was him. We’ve had problems with him trying to encroach on our border before, but they seemed to settle down when he came to apologise to Mycroft, but I remembered that there was just something in the way he appeared so humble, but had a flash of almost rage in his eyes as he spoke that just stuck with me. He seems to be trying to increase his kingdom’s power any way he can and blaming it all on his Father’s senility when he gets caught. So it seemed to me that if he could cause disruption between our two kingdoms that escalated to war we would both be too distracted to notice what he was doing to consolidate his power base until it was too late.”
“I think I remember dancing with him at that first ball – he was dark haired and not too tall, if I’m thinking of the right one. I’m sure he was one of the ones that Anderson had said that he’d had to be so careful with when arranging the ranking of my partners, so that made him stick out slightly more in my memory than all the other hordes I had to dance with.” He lowered his head and looked over at Sherlock through his eyelashes, “I’m afraid everyone faded to grey after the dance partner I had following the break. He rather took my breath away.”
Sherlock grinned at him, “He was rather unique and memorable, wasn’t he.”
John laughed, “He certainly was – is! So what did you find out from all your informants then?”
“Well, it took them about six months to get back to me because they had to tour all the villages to make themselves look genuine, they couldn’t let Prince James get suspicious by just going to his palace and then coming straight back to me so that was the first delay. When they did get back to me, I had to find the evidence I needed to prove it.
“I began investigating the border lands and found that main reason the blame had been put on us was because of the arrows found at one of the scenes. It was a particular type of fletching that only we use on our arrows. What the perpetrator didn’t know though was that as well as using our own specific arrows, our archers also pull out a nick in the fletch when they load their quiver to counter the wind factor we get in Whitehall. Therefore, I deduced that the arrows had been stolen from us to make us look guilty, but not fired by us because we would never have left them plain like that. From there I had to backtrack to discover how the theft could have happened and then try to find the men who did it.”
“No wonder it was taking you so long then,” John exclaimed.
“That wasn’t the worst part. Just when I’d finally got the proof I needed and thought I’d be able to return to you, I caught pneumonia together with rheumatic fever and I’ve been staying with my old nanny, Mrs Hudson where I've spent the last five months building up my strength to be able to ride again to come over and see you.”
John stopped abruptly. “What? You’ve been sick? Why didn’t you tell me, Sherlock, I could’ve come to you and taken care of you.”
“I didn’t want your first impression of me at our reunion to be one of infirmity and disease. I wanted to be fit and healthy and deserving of your hand and your heart.”
“You would always be deserving of that, Sherlock, no matter what state you were in, physically or mentally. In sickness and in health as the saying goes. I would far rather have been there by your side in your illness than sitting here alone wondering where you were and whether you’d forgotten all about me or not.”
“Oh, John. Never. I could never have forgotten about you. You were all that kept me going when I had to spend days on stake out and when I was recovering and practically teaching myself to walk again and build up my strength. You are everything to me.”
“As you are to me, Sherlock, always. Come on, let’s get back so we can tell my parents our happy news and so that I can make sure you’re properly fit with my own eyes.”
“As you wish, John,” and Sherlock smiled happily over at his beloved and they set off back to John’s home.
~*~
As they approached the palace they saw the King and Queen strolling towards the stables, obviously in anticipation of John's return. John jumped down off his horse and ran over to them.
"Father, thank you so much for letting Sherlock back in and for listening to what he had to say this time. I told you he was innocent all along, but you wouldn't believe me."
"I know. I’m the one who should be saying sorry to you, John. I should have investigated those stories myself when you were so adamant and, whatever else happened, I should have believed you when you told me how you felt about Sherlock. I let my doubt cloud my judgement; I should have known that you felt for Sherlock just what I felt for Molly." His Father put his hands on John's shoulders, "Can you forgive me, John."
"Of course, Father." He leaned in to hug him and then reached over to his Mother to hug her too.
"Oh, John," his Mother cried, "I'm sorry we didn't believe you and you've been suffering all this time without your true love."
"It's okay, Mother," John hugged her again then pulled her over to where Sherlock was standing. "Now I want you to meet my betrothed, Sherlock. Sherlock, this is my Mother, Queen Molly."
"It's a pleasure to officially meet you at last, your Majesty." Sherlock bowed deeply and kissed the Queen's hand. "May I say what a wonderful job you and his Majesty have done raising your Son. You've made him loyal and trusting and with the ability to believe the good in people long after he should've given up on them. He really is something special.”
“Sherlock!” John blushed and took Sherlock’s hand. “You’re the special one; making all this possible. I thought I wasn’t going to see you again, but now you’re here and you’ve sorted everything with Father and we’re going to get married and I’m just so happy.”
“Me too, John,” smiled Sherlock.
“Mother, is there any way we can just get married straight away. I feel like we’ve already waited two years and I don’t want to wait any longer.”
“Oh darling, I don’t think we can do it quite that fast, but we can certainly skip a lot of the betrothal formalities I’m sure.” Molly looked at Greg with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe we could manage it in about three months if we really rush things through.”
“Three months, oh Mother, that seems like forever,” John groaned.
“It’s not too long really, Son,” his Father added. “Sherlock can stay here and you can spend your time getting to know each other properly and just being together for a while seeing as most of your time has been spent apart.”
“Thank you, your Majesty, I would be happy to stay here. Anywhere that John is sounds like where I want to be.” Sherlock smiled at John who was beaming at him for that. “It won’t be so bad, John. You can show me around and we can visit all your special places, I’d love to get to know you properly.”
“I would too, Sherlock, that sounds perfect,” John agreed. “Ok Mother can we really do it as quickly as possible then please, and maybe with the minimum of pomp and ceremony.”
“John, you’re the heir to the throne,” his Mother laughed. “Pomp and ceremony is the family business, I don’t think you can get away from that.”
John chuckled too, “Well, can we make it the least we can legitimately get away with then, please, just this once.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” his Father added. “Come on Molly, let’s go and break the good news to Anderson. It’ll be nice to see him flap around and declare it an impossibility for it to be done so fast.”
The King and Queen left chuckling and John took Sherlock’s hand and they followed slowly behind.
“Come on in and I’ll give you a tour of the palace. I’ve been told the view from the first floor, corner suite is quite spectacular.” John winked and pulled Sherlock in through the entrance hall and up the main staircase.
“Well, I’m certainly enjoying the view so far,” Sherlock laughed as he watched John ascending the stairs in front of him, especially when John peeped back over his shoulder and Sherlock could see the blush spreading across his cheeks.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Well, I could make a few suggestions, but I think maybe we should leave those for the wedding night.”
“Sherlock!” John exclaimed, reddening even further.
“If you don’t want to wait then I’m quite happy to test some theories out right now. I have a scientific mind and I’m a big exponent of experiments.”
“Much as I want to encourage your outside interests,” John smiled at him and led him down the corridor to his own suite of rooms, “I think I like the idea of waiting too. It seems that if we’ve made it this long, we can wait another three months. That doesn’t mean that we can’t make the most of other activities though.”
John grinned at Sherlock as he pulled him through the door and shut it quickly behind him, pushing Sherlock up against it as he kissed him deeply, before peppering his face with little teasing kisses and nibbles and then taking possession of his lips again. John leaned his head away and raised his finger to Sherlock’s lips and placed it gently so the tip rested over the cupid’s bow. “Now, I believe I marked my place right here,” he said and they smiled at each other, remembering John’s words when he had left Sherlock in the arbour all that time ago.
“I believe you did,” Sherlock agreed and kissed the tip of John’s finger before bending forward to capture his lips. “Now, where were we?”
~*~
~*~
The wedding was one of those events that live on in the memory as a benchmark against which everything else was judged. Considering it had been pulled together on such a short time scale, everything was absolutely perfect and, to John’s great chagrin, no important item of either pomp or ceremony had been missed.
Sherlock had walked down the aisle first to stand at the altar next to his brother, King Mycroft, who had made a rare journey from his own kingdom especially for the ceremony. Sherlock had told John that Mycroft was practically a recluse, never leaving the palace and ruling everything from his throne room with his informants running around the countryside for him and John knew that Sherlock was secretly pleased that Mycroft had made this exception for him.
When the trumpet fanfare rang out again Sherlock turned to watch his beloved walk down the aisle towards him. Despite all the eyes fixed determinedly on John, as they had been at his ball long ago, he found this time he really didn’t mind because he could ignore them all, focusing solely on the man he was walking towards. He was struck anew by just how handsome Sherlock looked, standing in the reflected light of the stained glass window above him, his eyes glowing with love for John, as John knew his own were for Sherlock.
They clasped hands as they stood together in front of the Bishop and recited their vows, their eyes never leaving each other’s faces. When the moment came for them to kiss, they leaned forward and pressed their lips together gently, slowly deepening it as they realised they were now one. A collective sigh went around the church as their guests looked upon their moment of lasting happiness. This was what true love looked like.
~*~
The End
~*~