Chapter One: The King
John wasn't a simple military doctor, he was smart and able to control anybody on camp. He was the best with a gun in any of the classes, and his demanding voice was perfect for a Captain. But, for some odd reason, John Watson never moved up. His salary nearly covers his bills, let alone food, therapy, and medical. So, now John Watson, was facing the king, broken and beaten. He looked sick from the lack of food and overworking himself.
Sherlock had heard many things about John Watson's military acts that had impressed him in the past which was why their first meeting was so surprising to him. What he saw was a broken man in need of something better. He stood, cocking his head for a moment as he observed him.
"I can help you, but it may not be in a way you enjoy." He stated simply inngretting before John said a word. John let out a sigh, thinking for a short minute how the King knew what he needed.
"Well it's most likely better than-" John waved his hands down at himself.
"This."
Sherlock nodded in agreement.
"I'd simply make them give you a higher position, but unfortunately that's something I don't have an abundance of, it's a foolish system but it worked for my father." He sighed.
"I can let you stay here, use you as a strategist, but unfortunately I can not simply make you an advisor." He thought for a moment, pacing slightly. John nodded his head, understanding basic rules. He wiped his sweat ridden hands on his trousers.
'Damn Nerves,'
John thought. Even after facing war, he still would get them. It urged him to no end. Sherlock stopped pacing suddenly, looking at John.
"There is a way to have you at my side during important meetings, you would be well taken care of.. but it would mean people would think you were a lone member of a harem."
John looked at Sherlock. He scanned his eyes across him, making sure it was real. John thought about how embarrassed he would be, if his old colleges contacted him asking questions like,
'How did you even win a king over?'
'Three continents Watson train has stopped?'
Don't get John wrong he is flattered, as the raging Bisexual he is, but embarrassment is still a thing for the man. One the other hand, there's the chance of dying because he can't work anymore. John took a deep breath in,
"Then let them think, why should it bother me?" Sherlock nodded slightly.
"And no need to worry, you won't be an actual harem, that's not really my thing." Sherlock offered a smile, but it was a bit awkward.
"I'll have you set up with living quarters and you'll have your meals with me in the dining hall, any other time besides meeting of course are yours to explore or do what you please." John nodded his head, and stopped, a question popped through his head.
"What do I call you? I'm not sure if the King would really be harem like now-a-days." Sherlock thought for a moment.
"Call me whatever you like I suppose, be creative with it, I don't particularly care." John nodded his head once again, trying to think of a list of names. Most were too flirty, he didn't want to be seen as man hoe, Three Continent Watson again, like he was in the military.
"Is there anything in particular you'd like your chambers to contain?" Sherlock asked, wanting the man to be comfortable. John thought for a quick second, he didn't want to be asking for too much than he already was.
"Some books, art supplies, and maybe an art station would be nice." John said, as he wiped his shaking hands on his trousers again.
"Of course, I'll have that arranged." Sherlock noticed how nervous John looked and simply held out a hand to him.
"Come, let's have an early lunch, I can have the chef make anything you desire." John took Sherlock's hand, pretty hesitant at first.
"Okay." Sherlock led them out of the throne room, heads already turning towards them. Sherlock was not at all an affectionate man, but simple things like this to save a man's life? He could manage. John may have been a player in his younger years, but now he's getting nervous again. People were staring as they walked by, he simply smiled softly, and kept walking with Sherlock.
Sherlock didn't acknowledge any of them, but he did find their puzzled reactions amusing. He led them down to the kitchen and found the chef.
"We will be having an early lunch today, please prepare anything John requests." John simply wanted a normal lunch. Nothing fancy. Just a sandwich and chips. His appetite has fluctuated at the moment. Sherlock led John to the dining hall while John's lunch was prepared, gesturing for him to sit. John sat down, still trying to think of a good name for the man. John tapped his fingers on his trousers as he thought.
"I'll also have to call you something won't I? Pet names have never been necessary to me before." Sherlock thought as well. John looked up at the king, bewildered how Sherlock knew what he was thinking.
"Brilliant." John said out loud. Sherlock cocked his head a little.
"I beg your pardon?" He asked, once again looking mildly amused. John had a slight blush forming. He didn't mean to say that out loud, well it's not like he can take it back.
"I said Brilliant. That was brilliant. You, able to know exactly what I'm thinking, need, or feeling. And, you just met me, Locket." The nickname surprised Sherlock slightly but he hid it well.
"As, yes.. I studied a lot of psychology as a child, and learned the art of deduction from my elder brother at an early age." He smiled, less awkwardly this time.
"And you darling, are an interesting read." John blushed a nice pink now, his body temperature rises a few degrees.
"Thank you, but I'm nowhere near as interesting as you. You seem closed off, distance, but you're smart and know how to handle people, now matter who they are. But, I bet on the inside, you're truly completely different. You really don't know what people feel, as you put off to know. You show emotion, and care, but you don't even notice it most of the time." John sighed softly.
"Much to a locket on a necklace, the outside is closed off, not seeing what's truly on the inside. And, you never know, the inside could be a work of art." John smiled, as he leaned against the table staring at Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't the only one who could deduct someone. In the military, you learn quickly, to see who is a trust worthy companion, and how they'll get the job done.
For once Sherlock wasn't able to hide his reaction, for a moment surprise, intrigue and even a little flush flashed across Sherlock's face before it went back to his normal indifference.
"I assure you, you don't know as much as you think.." Despite being impressed, John's ability to do to him what he had spent his whole life doing to others unnerved him a bit. John smiled softly,
"I may not know much, but what I do know is correct." John said as he played with his dog tags a little without realizing. Sherlock was prepared to retort when the chef brought John's food in, Sherlock leaned his chair back on two legs, thanking them. John said a polite 'Thank you.' to the chef. He slowly ate his food, making sure he wouldn't throw it back up later.
"Any time you're hungry you may come down here and request something, no matter the hour. But pace yourself, I don't want you getting sick."
"I will pace myself. I watched enough men throw their guts up after a meal then not to." John said as he took another bite. He just wanted to eat it quickly, but knew the aftermath too well.
Sherlock nodded, watching him eat. He wasn't used to much company, princes dont have friends and neither did kings, though Sherlock had always known that even if he were born a peasant he wouldn't take to others. But, there was something about John that intrigued him
John felt Sherlock staring at him while he paced himself. It made John self aware of everything that he did. He started to tap his foot to the melody of Billy O Shea' in his head. Sherlock realized he was making the other uncomfortable and dropped his eyes. John looked at Sherlock, as he finished his sandwich. He wasn't really sure what he should say. He got the feeling he started to tick Sherlock off earlier, so he didn't want to push his luck.
Sherlock had lost himself in thought for a moment, not at all realizing that now he was the one with an audience. John rolled his left shoulder back, hearing and feeling it pop. That snapped Sherlock out of it, glancing up at John again to make sure he was alright. John started to grab his shoulder but stopped. He just grunted as a throbbing pain spread throughout his body.
"Are you alright? Should I take you to see our doctor?" Sherlock asked, watching him carefully.
"No, No, I'm fine." John said as he took a deep breath in.
"Are you sure?" Obviously John should know more about this than Sherlock, what with him being a doctor and everything, but that didn't stop the odd feeling of worry in Sherlocks stomach, something he hadn't felt before. John laughed softly,
"It's nothing new Sherlock, no need to worry. It'll go away with time."
'At least I hope,' John thought. Sherlock frowned a little, as he stared at John.
"I'm not worried, I just dont need my new secret advisor dying on me before his first meeting." He replied a bit defensively. John felt a slight twang go through his chest. John only sighed,
"Yeah, sure Sherlock." John finally grabbed his shoulder softly, giving into the urge that pressure needs to be there again. Sherlock reminded himself that he didn't have the capacity to care about people, that this was simply for his own benefit. He stood.
"I'll see to it that your living quarters are set up, feel free to explore." John only nodded his head. He wanted to get up with Sherlock, but stayed put as he knew his leg would give him trouble. Sherlock left the dining hall, leaving John alone.
John sat there for, he didn't remember how long anymore. He finally stood up holding onto the table so falling to the ground wasn't an issue for him, or Sherlock. John started to walk around using a wall every now and then. He knew the place a little from when Sherlock dragged him. He remembers seeing a garden, so that's where John went.
He sat down on the grass enjoying the heat that fell onto today. It reminded him of Afghanistan, and his fawned memories. John sat there going through his happy moments and even sad.
Sherlock made sure that John's room was set up appropriately, a large canopy bed, a closet that would be filled with new clothes once they were made, along with everything else he requested. Sherlock told a maid to locate John once the room was finished.
John felt a water drop on his hand, yet he didn't remember it was supposed to rain. John looked up, but the sky was clear. He was confused until he felt water on his neck, under his chin. Memories made him cry without realizing it. John laughed softly, he felt defeated, yet he was getting help.
The maid had come for him, but stood a respectful distance away when she had seen he was crying. Waiting until it felt appropriate to approach him. John felt someone behind him, so he turned. He chuckled softly,
"Sorry about that. It doesn't happen much.''She bowed her head slightly.
"I didn't mean to intrude on Doctor Watson, but I was asked to inform you that your room is ready and I can take you to it whenever you like." John wiped the remainder of tears, and stood up. He almost fell because of how unbalanced he was.
"Oh it's fine ma'am, and thank you I would like to head there now if that's alright?"
"Of course sir, would you like some assistance?" She asked gently, noticing his poor balance.
"I'll be fine ma'am, thank you though." John was standing and dusting dirt off of him. She nodded again.
"Then it's right this way sir." She turned around and began to walk at a careful pace so he could keep up. John followed, he noticed the slower pace and cursed himself. He hated making others slow down their day just for him.
She didn't seem to mind, pointing out areas of interest on their way, like a library which she informed him was huge, amongst other things. She eventually stopped at a door.
"And, this is your room, right next to his majesty." John looked as they walked, trying to remember which rooms were which. They stood at the two doors, and he looked at them, almost curious to what Sherlock's held.
"Thank you ma'am. You've been a great help." She nodded.
"King Sherlock had some business to tend to and may not be back until later this evening, if you need anything at all any member of our staff would be more than willing to help." She offered a warm smile.
"Okay, thank you ma'am." John opened his door, looking on the inside. He was amazed at the sight. It may look normal, but the amount of money that was put into all of this. John smiled as he stepped in, looking at the array of books on the shelf.
She nodded and left John in peace, closing the door gently behind her.
John saw one of his favorite books on the shelf, and laughed softly. He picked it up, looking from back to front. He smiled as he sat down on the bed, opening the book and being trancened by it. He didn't know how long he sat there reading.
Eventually Sherlock returned, the loud thud that was unavoidable when opening or closing the heavy wooden door to his room echoing in the hall. John shot his head up, alert now. He could hear the echo throughout the halls. He could tell the door next to him, Sherlock.
Sherlock draped himself dramatically across his bed, exhausted but wide awake, he had nearly forgotten about John. John thought about knocking on Sherlock's door, but he knew he was probably tired. John sat his book down, standing and stretching, bones cracking as he did. John laid back down, after his shoulder popped again. John grunted and placed pressure on his shoulder, memories. He remembered the pain, and holding his shoulder so he wouldn't bleed out. He remembers holding his shoulder after the infection happened, softly crying from pain. John sighed, as he took his hand back off his shoulder. Bad habits seem to die hard.
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