#prince!lock

[holmescope]

Anyone know of any good fics where Sherlock is a prince? I don’t really care what John is he can be royalty too or anything else but I really want to read some prince!lock

[tillthecherrybombs]

A Prince!Lock RP where Sherlock and John meet at a masquerade ball, and don't exactly hit it off.

If this was you, find me!

[gmmythicalbeast]

Mycroft Prince!lock Prompt. Based on Cinderella~

Mycroft Sebastian Holmes, aka Prince Mycroft Siger William Sebastian Sherlock Holmes III. He hated his name. He hated his life. He hated everything. What a positive boy! Now, Mycroft had a huge reason to hate all of his luxuries and his luxurious life. All fell upon one thing: How he was born, and who he was born as. Now, how he was born doesn't mean the method that was chosen. Back then there were two methods. One, simple birth given on your bed. Messy. Gross. But everyone chose it. The second was a bath birth. You would lay in a pool of water and give birth. Also messy. Also gross. If you must know, Mycroft was born as every other royal baby was. Meghan Müller Holmes gave birth to a small ginger baby in her ginormous bed in the King's room. (By King's room, it was both of theirs. King and Queen, but these times were quite sexist.) Now, who he was born as, did not mean his name. That was simple. Each Holmes baby was to have the same cycle of names, but the father was to give his son a different first name from the handful. His mother and father chose Mycroft. Simple. That was royalty for children: Simple, easy, laid back. Mycroft grew up in a castle larger than life. The halls and passages spread for miles and miles across the land. Just the castle alone, stood at nearly 3,000 acres. (Nearly 5 miles.) The castle grounds added another 5,000 acres. (Nearly 8 miles) His own home was huge! There was so much he wanted to do as a kid. His room was quite large, filled with toys, books, fake weapons, expensive clothing, but all wasn't good enough for him. He wanted to go on adventures. He wanted to go out and ride the horses in the large stable. He wanted to swim in the lake the sank into the back grounds of the castle. The little ginger wanted to climb the trees of the apple orchard, or perhaps venture into the tall forest behind the gates. He wanted to sword fight with his father, and sew with his mother. He wanted to do everything and experience anything. However, his parents were too busy. Being a royal adult wasn't easy. There were things to do and things to tend to. The king and queen had hardly ever had enough time to spend with their son. Mycroft would grow sad and bored. He'd sneak away from his room, down passages, halls, staircases, and secret doorways, until he'd reach the kitchen. His parents never knew that he'd lurk down there sometimes. He'd play with another small boy by the name of Greg. He had a thick French accent, and adorable brown eyes. That's how Mycroft would remember him. One day, something happened. The ginger wandered away from cello lessons and to the kitchen. The boy was not there. He tried again and again. No sign. The ginger boy grew a bit depressed. He had no one to play with but his little brother. However, Mycroft was told that proper princes weren't to play at his age. He was told to buckle down and start his training to become "Prince Charming." It was a typical phrase used around the royal world. A charming prince was one who was kind to all, showed respect, obeyed all laws, loved his women, and would someday serve as a fantastic king. Everyone around the kingdom knew that Mycroft would make a great king, however, he doubted himself. The kingdom stood where present day London would stand. The kingdom wasn't so big, yet it wasn't the smallest. Britain, as the Romans used to call the land where the kingdom stood, was quite new. Rome was dead. The medieval times were over, and the Renaissance was in swing. Though, this isn't a history book, so don't pay much attention to that. See, it was a big kingdom, and Mycroft doubted that he'd be a good king. He knew his life would not be the best, and that was for multiple reasons. Firstly, how he was born. The real reason: homosexuals. We all know that they existed back then. Greeks and Romans displayed the sexuality in their religions. They were actually quite modest about same sex love. However, the Roman Church came along as well as Christianity. Homosexuals became frowned upon. It had been 500 years in the Kingdom of London since a law had been put into practise by the Roman Church: All homosexuals found, shall be taken and burned alive at the stake:. Basically, Mycroft couldn't be himself. Yes, he was born as a man who loved other men. The boy we born with hair as red as fire. In the wind, it looked like dancing flames. His eyes stood out like blue crystals in a dark cave. They shone with light and made him seem so alive and beautiful. The ginger boy was spotted with freckles, and his mother had always told the boy that each freckle was an angel's kiss. Mycroft always had felt so special because of it. Though, as time went on, puberty took effect. His normal legs seemed to grow and grow until the 4' boy was 6'1". His arms grew to match his height, and his hands took after. Though, his hands seemed to never stop growing. Mycroft's hands became big and quite manly. They were great for sword fighting and hunting. His feet grew large as well. He had a perfect combination of legs and feet to be a great runner. His nose was long and hooked. He hated it. He thought it looked like a beak. Finally, there were a few other things on his body that were quite big and attrative. His ears... And well... His... Whirlybird... His disco stick... His meat hammer... You know... Anyways, he was absolutely perfect to the eyes of all maidens in the land. They all wanted him. Each and every woman was waiting for the announcement, the one that would come soon. The time to choose his queen. Mycroft had just turned eighteen quite recently, and his time was upon him. Every Holmes was to be married by the age of nineteen, and legend was that if a Holmes wasn't married by requested age, they'd grow to be ugly and of misfortune. Naturally, Mycroft wanted not of that. One more thing I was forgetting, Mycroft had a little brother. Though Mycroft would take the crown as King, Sherlock would be the prince behind him. Sherlock didn't mind. He saw the amount of stress on Mycroft at all times. The man was always busy. He always had sword fighting, hunting lessons, school lessons, king lessons, and everything else under the moon. Mycroft had actually just gotten back from sword fighting when a familiar face decided to walk back into his life. Mycroft Holmes was sitting next to his father and enjoying the morning. He had risen around four in the morning, and it was then nine in the morning. The prince was utterly parched, yet waited patiently and quietly to be addressed. He was in no hurry whats so ever. Mycroft listed to the soft scraping of violin strings from the orchestra over head. It was awfully peaceful that morning... Maybe a bit too peaceful... Mycroft shrugged off the feeling and made small talk with his younger brother. Sherlock got annoyed and started throwing forks at one of the maids. Mycroft quickly took to stopping Sherlock, and apologised to the maid. She smiled happily and bowed to Mycroft. Mycroft took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. She swooned and blushed before going back to dusting some of the expensive dećor. Mycroft smiled as an awfully handsome waiter came over and stood in front of him. He could clearly tell that the boy was a peasant. He seemed uncomfortable in the attire that workers were ordered to wear in the castle. The brunet's face seemed awfully familiar to the prince, though he couldn't place the face to the memory. He simply shrugged it off and addressed the waiter. "Oh no worries, my good sir. I am in no rush. The morning is awfully lovely, and the sky looks gorgeous through the windows." Mycroft gestured towards the scenery and sunlight that flooded in from the absolute massive windows. The mess hall, in which they sat, was humongous and decorated for large parties. However, it wasn't as gorgeous as the throne room. The room Mycroft loathed. The room where he'd become king. The room where he'd have a queen. It'd be awful. "I think on this divine morning, I shall acquire a simple egg dish. Make with what you should, handsome lad." Mycroft found himself outwardly complimenting a male, which was quite strange to everyone else. He could tell from the staring eyes. Mycroft didn't care. He winked at Greg. Mycroft gave no fucks that day. {Author's Note: I will create a fanfiction if I get a decent amount of notes.}

[mycyberpunkalterego-blog]

What about an AU where Sherlock is a prince and John is a commoner, and John starts to work in the castle as a medical apprentice and meets Prince Sherlock, who is always bored because everyone around him thinks he's a freak; his love of science and alchemy is considered odd for a prince and he's not the most sociable, so his family thinks he's weird and basically ignores him. His father, the king, spends much of his time with Mycroft, who will succeed him. The queen encourages Sherlock's quizzical nature more than anyone else, and is the only one to realize Sherlock could be a genius instead of a freak. That is, she's the only one until John. Sherlock's mother recognizes that his solitude makes him unhappy, and having a friend could improve his courtly manners, so she permits John to take his science and medical lessons with Sherlock. He is, of course, amazed by Sherlock and doesn't treat him like a freak, so the two end up spending a ton of time together. 

I'm seriously obsessed with this AU.

[guitarriffsandamazingships]

Please - Royal!lock/Johnlock RP

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like johnlock.

You: [ Royal!lock AU ] Prince John had ridden into town one sunny afternoon, minus the guards and the hefty protection. In fact, he came cloaked in nothing that bore the royal crown. Just outside of the first village, he paid a man to look after his horse, before heading into the crowds. Sometimes royal life was too much for John. He hated the stress of being proper, the demands to be King, and the possibility of an arranged marriage. He wanted nothing more in life than to be happy. He wanted to be a wonderful King to his people, when the time came, but that meant knowing what each village needed and wanted. And what better way, than to see for himself?  So, he ducked his way through crowds, resisting the urge to buy anything just yet. It was such a wonder - these people were so poor, and they seemed so happy. He wondered what it may be have been like if he had not been born into the royal blood. Suddenly, as he came to the next town - lost in his thoughts of a simpler life - John bumped into someone. It caused him to stumble whilst the other landed in a heap on the ground. John instantly steadied himself, reaching out a hand to help up the young boy. "Christ, I apologize," John said sincerely, catching sight of the man, who looked no more than a few years younger. And hell, he was absolutely /stunning/.

Stranger: Sherlock frowned, ready to give whoever had pushed him over a piece of his mind, but he stopped as soon as deep blue eyes met his. It was as if his brain switched off for a second, and his mouth went dry. This man was obviously not from around here, but looked as though he had tried to fit in. Why would anyone want to fit in with poor people. Pocketing the apple he was just about to eat, he nodded, trying to read as much as he could. Nothing seemed to match up, and it was as infuriating as it was intriguing. The mystery man couldn't have been anything more than a few years older than him, and he was gorgeous. If he was the kind of person to believe in a notion as love at first sight, maybe that's what he would have called it. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

You: "I should have been watching myself," John returned, feeling his cheeks heat slightly. His hand felt warm, too warm, and he immediately realized that he was still holding the strangers hand. With a deeper flush, he pulled his own hand away and cleared his throat nervously. In the castle, the only people he dealt with were those of high stature. It was almost a nonexistent event to become embarrassed in front of others. It was frowned upon to stumble, as well. Out in the Kingdom, though, where all of his people seemed to be joyful, he was able to relax. And even if he felt terribly bad for stumbling and pushing this man over, he couldn't help but feel relief knowing he wouldn't be chastised for it. His eyes had not darted away for long, because moments later they were staring into the piercing verdigris of the stranger. Who was this intriguing boy? What was his name? Did he live in this village? Prince John had so many questions, but he knew that he couldn't get anywhere with this stranger if it were known that he was the Prince. "I'm John," he breathed, with a courteous nod.

Stranger: "Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock returned the nod, trying not to think about how much he would like his hand to be held again. John. The mysterious stranger had a name, a name that seemed too bland for the person that stood before him. He seemed to be a perfect oxymoron, and Sherlock wanted to find out more. He began walking through the crowd again, sure that John would follow him. The weather was warm, and the streets were crowded, and he forgot where he was meant to be going. He knew he had something else to do, but couldn't quite remember what, and this seemed far more exciting. It was unlike him to forget things, but then again it was unlike him to feel strange magnetic pulls towards strangers; and yet here he was. "You're not from around here, are you? He already knew the answer, but he kept up an air of general politeness, as he didn't want the mystery man to think he was a freak. Not like many people in his village.

You: Sherlock. Such a elegant name. One John would expect for a Prince or King, at that. In fact, if not for the evidence that proved he was from the village, John would have wondered if he was of royal blood. Sherlock had begun to travel away, and John had a moment of panic. Did he not want to speak? But no, he realized the stranger was indicating him to follow, so the blond Prince jogged to walk with him again, a warmth erupting in his chest. He'd always wondered what love at first sight might be like, and here, he was beginning to wonder if that's what he felt. There was a tug inside of him, a need of sorts, to know this man. It was so powerful, he began to forget all of the rules. For once, he needed to be reckless. "Is it that noticeable?" John answered, glancing yet again at Sherlock. "No, I'm not, though it is quite lovely. Everyone seems happy," he commented, though he realized his statement probably sounded odd in the eyes of someone who regarded the village as poor and sickly. John shut his mouth and pulled his cloak tighter - he wanted to know this man, and the same in return, but Sherlock could never find out that he was the Prince. It would ruin everything.

Stranger: "It's not that noticeable, no one else would know, but I can see things other people can't." He wasn't sure why he was telling John this, but he had the feeling the man wouldn't judge him. "For example, I know that the lady over there is having an affair, and the man over there is waiting for a date." He could see it all, read people like an open book, and at times it became overwhelming. He couldn't filter it. He would see the good, and the bad in the world, and more often than not it was bad. "We seem happy, because that is all we can be. If we allowed ourselves to be anything else, the weight of our situation would become almost unbearable." People were homeless, and people were starving, and people were hurt. Time demanded the right to pass though, and life had to go on. Climbing up the stairs on the side of a building, he found himself on a rooftop, waiting for John to follow. He preferred it up here. It was quieter, and it made him problems seem smaller. For a while he could hide away from the world, and escape it all. "It's their fault." He indicated to the castle that they could now see. "They make all the decisions without having to deal with the consequences. I don't want a stranger ruling my life, thinking they know what's best, when in reality they know nothing at all."

You: John couldn't help but smile. Oh, this stranger was so fascinating. Not only was he absolutely gorgeous, he was /brilliant/. John eyes fell on each man and woman that was pointed out, and he couldn't help but wonder what it must be like. To observe so much about someone, while others wouldn't even give a passing glance. "That's absolutely brilliant, he muttered, under his breath, unable to help himself as the compliment slid from his lips. There was so much more to learn about the world, and John intended on doing just that. But, first, he wanted to spend more time with Sherlock Holmes. The stranger that made his heart race. He followed up to the roof, and with casual nature, he plopped down and looked to the castle. From his spot, the stone walls looked powerful and intimidating. Emanating glory that none of the people could have. John felt a stab of hatred for his own family. He'd known of the greed, but hadn't expected it to be as bad. "The castle looks powerful. Dangerous and greedy. It seems they've put on a persona that they care. If they did, they'd be out in the streets, helping those who needed it. Meeting those who support them, and understanding those who don't." He loved his family, but at the precise moment, he felt ashamed to be a Watson.

Stranger: Sherlock took a seat next to John, trying to ignore the castle that loomed over them in the distance. Just once he would like to know what it felt like. To have everything handed to you on a silver platter, and not have to worry if you were ill, or where your next meal would come from. Not have to worry about anything really. He had trained himself to need as little food as possible, but there was still some nights that he lay awake in the dark, the hunger stabbing and twisting like a knife in his stomach. John had called him brilliant though, and in that moment it was all that mattered. "People normally tell me to piss off." Sherlock felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, even with the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something about John put him at ease, and he wanted to know him. He wanted to know more than he could deduce, more than what was on the surface. He didn't know how long they had. It could be a day, it could be a couple of hours. He wanted to make the most of every second they had though. "Tell me something about yourself. Something you haven't told anyone else."

You: John suddenly felt his stomach drop. If Sherlock could notice things about people, then could he tell that John was from the royal family? The blond didn't want that. For once in his life, he'd met someone he truly he enjoyed. He didn't want any stupid rules getting in the way of that. But, if his true nature was seen by Sherlock, the man would have had a different reaction, he was sure. Though he worried, he tried not to make it obvious. "My family, they're focused on rules. They've set a life for me, one that I don't want. One I wish I could get out of." He was vague enough, but yet honest, and hoped that Sherlock wouldn't figure out how relatable his story was to those of royal nature. Though, most in the rich blood did not want to be rid of it. So, he hoped he was safe. John looked to the sky, the blue was beginning to mix with orange, as the sun drifted lower and lower. He felt panicked again, as he realized Sherlock and he would have no more than a few hours to see one another. The thought of leaving was almost unbearable. "What about you? Is there anything, anything at all, that you've kept to yourself? I know I am merely but a stranger, but, I hope I seem trustworthy enough." He laid back suddenly, his navy eyes watching the sky. His gaze then fell on Sherlock again, and he was struck with the beautiful image - shadows fell across his sharp features, causing him to almost glow. It was unnatural to feel emotions like this towards another man, John had been told. Yet, he couldn't help himself as he thought of Sherlock. He thought of holding his thin hand, kissing him gently, courting him and causing a redness to erupt on those prominent cheekbones..

Stranger: Sherlock felt his heart ache for John. He could never say his life was everything he wanted, but at least he was free to do as he pleased. He couldn't imagine being controlled by the people who were supposed to want what was best for you. Not that he had much of a family now. His father had died when he was young, and his mother had ran, trying to escape her grief. He had Mycroft, but he didn't see much of his brother, as he was away, weaselling his way into the palace, with fake smiles, and unarguable tactics. He did leave him enough money for rent, and necessities, so he supposed that was something to be grateful for. The one person that he could class as family was Mrs Hudson, his landlady who had been more of a mother to him than his actual mother ever was. It was a surprise when the question was directed back at him, because it was something he wasn't expecting. Although John had called himself a stranger, he was quickly beginning to feel like so much more than that, and Sherlock tried to push those thoughts away as he watched the sun setting. Streaking the sky with a combination of oranges and pinks, blurring the edges, and giving the world a soft glow. "I think I would like to experience love." Love was such an bizarre concept to him, but it was the catalyst for so many things. How was he expected to broaden his understanding of people, if he couldn't experience one of the most vicious motivators. He just wanted to know what it felt like, for someone to want him, for someone to desire to make him happy. "My brother believes that love is a default, a weakness, but I'm not sure if I feel the same. If anything shouldn't love make you stronger? It should give you something to fight for, you should strive to be a better person."

You: John pushed up to a sitting position again, and he reached over a gentle hand. It fell, carefully, on Sherlock's shoulder, and John instantly felt his skin tingle. "Everyone deserves love," he began, with a nod and a fierce look in his eyes. "It's the age of arranged marriages. Not even for the royals, but for the people. They set a terrible example, the rich. I understand. Love is wonderful. I've seen it, sometimes. People on the streets. They may not have anything but each other, but it's all that matters. I think everyone should have that opportunity." After a few minutes, John had to take his hand away. He looked down at his lap, gulping away the sadness in his chest. Sherlock Holmes was right. Love, it was such a powerful thing. A cause of so much destruction, but also one of great power and kindness. With a sigh, John blinked away the hurt in his gaze, and he glanced at Sherlock yet another time. He couldn't stop. The man next to him, in all of his glory, looked sad. John wanted to pull him close. Kiss away the pain. Give every man and woman on the street money and food. He wanted to give Sherlock love. "I have a sister. Younger. My family has been less harsh on her, though, they haven't had much success leading someone who spends her time at the pub almost every evening. They try not to speak of her, in fact. They are fearful of the damage it could do to their reputation. It's horrible."

Stranger: Sherlock tried not to be disappointed when John removed his hand from his shoulder. The skin tingled underneath his tee-shirt, and he couldn't ignore the way his heart had skipped in his chest. In a perfect world he would stay with John, and the man would show him love, and maybe he could be happy for once. The world was far from perfect though. It was cruel, and harsh, and it would attack any chance of happiness. If contentment was a flame, life was water. The water would get rid of the flame before it had a chance to burn. Society frowned upon same sex relationships, and that only made it worse. He would never look at a women and want to know her the way he wanted to know John. He just couldn't. Maybe they were right. Maybe there was something wrong with him. The sky turned dark, and he swallowed back a sob. It wasn't fair. He had finally found someone who understood him, and so many obstacles stood in their way. He knew nothing about this man besides his name, and yet he felt like he knew him. Like he could know him. It had never been that way with anyone before, and soon John would leave. He would return to his home, wherever that was, and Sherlock would be left alone again. The realisation sat like a weight on his shoulders, and he couldn't stop the tears that ran down his cheeks. Great. Now he looked pathetic. "None of this is fair."

You: John looked to the castle, the torches becoming the only way to see it. Still, it looked dark and terrifying. The sky slowly dimmed, and became dark, leaving the Prince with a longing in his chest. John gulped and blinked with hatred in his gaze. "You're right," he started, clenching his jaw. "I don't want to go home. Not towards the place where everything I want is wrong." He looked towards his new friend, finding a mirrored look in his eyes. One of sorrow. Like a part of him had been lost, only because it had been pushed away. John quickly shook his head. "You deserve to find someone to love, Sherlock Holmes. And I, I want to make my own choices. After everything, I should be able to have that. If the world is unfair, I suppose we can either live with it, or make our own rules." He shifted a bit closer towards the man, hoping that it wouldn't be noticed. The closer proximity had John's heartbeat speed. He wanted so badly to touch. To have Sherlock in his life. To marry this stranger, who'd he'd only just met. Yet, it felt as if he'd known him for ages of time. "I could return," he suggested, hoping that the other wanted it just as much as he did, "I could sneak out and return tomorrow. You're different, Sherlock Holmes, and I can't help but feel as if we'll be good friends."

Stranger: Sherlock shifted, wrapping his arms around John. He knew he probably shouldn't have, but he couldn't help it. It felt comforting, and right, and it was only now that he realised how cold it was. He moved as close as he could, hoping the other man wouldn't mind. He just needed this. John was the first person to show him kindness in a long time, and it was a nice feeling. His heart felt like it could beat out his chest, and he was still crying, but it clung to John like he was an anchor. Anchoring him to this moment in time. It was a moment that was theirs, away from the despair of the village that he so desperately wished to escape. It was untouchable, and unbreakable, and he wished he was able to capture it, so he could look back on it when things became difficult. "I'd like that." That was an understatement, but it was all that he could bring himself to say. He was overwhelmed with all the new emotions. "Please." Sherlock wasn't sure what he was asking for, he just knew that he needed it. Was he asking John to stay? Was he asking him to hold him? Was he pleading for a chance at happiness? Maybe it was all of those things.

Stranger: *he (not it)

You: John didn't know what to think. Everything was a jumble in his mind. He had so many questions, but yet, he couldn't bear to ruin this moment. For the first time, he didn't care what others thought. He didn't choose to be reckless, because his body was already moving. He felt free to do as he pleased, up on this roof, with this villager. In that moment, on that very roof, Sherlock and he were equals. Two people who were right. John was no longer a Prince, and he really didn't mind. Gulping, he reached up to wipe Sherlock's tears away, cupping his cheeks as his calloused thumbs finished brushing under the gorgeous eyes. "Who are you?" he questioned, in a soft voice. "I've never met anyone like you. And yet, I.." he didn't know how to explain himself. He only shook his head, and wrapped his arms around the stranger's neck, tangling his fingers in the soft curls, carefully. "I find myself unable to bear the thought of leaving. Please, don't cry." John had been waiting his entire life for someone like this. He let himself be locked in their passionate gaze. One filled with both uncertainty and an overwhelming presence of emotion. John wanted, and he knew he couldn't have this. Sherlock would hate him if he found out his true identity.

Stranger: ((I'm so sorry, I have to go, but I would love to continue this! My email is ---------))

You: ((Awh, that's such a shame!! I don't normally continue RP's through email, since I'm sometimes shit at replying, but I love this /so/ much, that I'd like to! I hope you don't mind, my replies might be slow at times. My email is ------------ , but I'll send you the log and you can reply c: ))

Stranger: ((That's fine :) Thank you for this, you are brilliant))

You: ((You're welcome, but thank you, as well. You are an amazing writer, oh my gosh <3))

Stranger: ((Aw, thank you so much, that's really sweet of you to say))

You: ((It's the truth. My heart is, like, bursting every time I read your replies. Alright, well, I best let you go. See you on email! :D))

Stranger: ((See you soon! :D))

Stranger has disconnected.

[verity-s]

AU johnlock headcanon:

How about prince!lock and hunter!john uwu ?... just imagine.. prince!lock falling in love with him at first sight and hunter!john being very very shy, because *PRINCE*!lock... :3

[guitarriffsandamazingships]

If You Became My Husband and King - Johnlock, Princelock, Royallock AU

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like Johnlock.

You: [ Johnlock, Prince!lock, Royal!lock ] John Watson, a lowly servant, entered the royal chamber of Prince Sherlock after being granted permission. He made sure to lock the door behind him, knowing full well they couldn't have someone barge in. John was supposed to be helping Sherlock with the sciences, but little did the Kingdom know John had become more than a servant to Prince Sherlock. He was the prince's lover, even though it was terribly forbidden. Seeing the Prince upon his bed reading a book, John smiled and carefully padded over to the gorgeous man. "I brought you the cuppa you asked for, your majesty." John said, knowing the formalities of calling him royal names weren't needed, but it was so habit for him to do so. He held out the cup of tea for his gracious to take. "With your orders, I have been allowed to stay for the full night. What did you have in mind to occupy ourselves?" To be quite honest, John hoped they could lie together. It had been many days without the chance to secretly see one another, and John missed the royal so much.

Stranger: Sherlock looked up as John entered, and a small smile rose to his lips at the sight of him. He had missed John, in all honesty. It had been lonely without him as the servant went about his chores and Sherlock tended to political affairs. Dull. He set his book aside and accepted the tea with a soft thanks, and he took a small sip before setting it aside. "The whole night?" he echoed with a raised eyebrow. "Perfect." He grinned and reached up to grab John gently and pull him down to join him on the bed.

You: John smiled widely in return, and slipped up on the bed bedsides his lover as he was tugged. The mattress felt heavenly beneath him, as it always did, but the best part was being able to sit so close to the other. "Yes, the Kingdom believes I am helping you grow the mold in the en suite of your chambers." John replied, laughing softly. Though he would not mind doing that, he'd rather be doing something else entirely. Maybe they would kiss a lot tonight, or possibly just lie and hold each other. The blond looked at the prince, and gently snuggled into his side. It had been far too long since they had been able to see each other. "I've missed you, my prince," John breathed out, with a soft sigh.

Stranger: Sherlock's arms wrapped around John's waist to keep him close, though he pulled one away briefly to bring the blankets over them comfortably. He hummed and pressed his cheek to John's forehead as he kept him close. "The mold is growing just fine. I'll just let it sit for a few days on its own. I'd rather have my attention be focused on you." Smiling lopsidedly, Sherlock kissed the arch of John's nose as he rubbed his back lightly. "How have you been? A few days have passed since I last saw you properly. I hope Father isn't working you to death."

You: John placed his hands on Sherlock's chest, snuggling in and marveling over how lovely it felt to be held. John had never felt this way about anyone. Sure, a long time ago there had been a few girls he had met in the market, or a few ladies who helped serve the Queen. None of them had ever held his interest for long. Not like Sherlock. Sherlock had stolen his heart. "I have been fine, for the most part. Most of the work isn't too strenuous, though there are some horrible moments. He's had me cleaning the stables to fill in while Gregory is away." The blond grimaced a bit, but then smiled as he snuck a kiss to Sherlock's jaw. "How have you been then, my lord? I hope you haven't been bored to tears around here. I've often thought of you, what you might be working on. I was hoping to sneak here a few days earlier, but all of this work has kept us both so busy."

Stranger: Sherlock hummed slightly as he nodded, and he pushed his nose into John's soft hair as he settled down comfortably. "I can talk to him about that. Claim that I can't have you tired and worn out while trying to help me with my studies. Perhaps he would ease up on the work he has you do." He didn't like those occasional days when he would pass John in one of the corridors and find the servant to be exhausted after a day of laboring. He wanted John to be always happy. He let out a slow sigh and rolled his eyes as he though of his own past few days. "Boring, yes. Tedious. I couldn't care any less about foreign scandals and how local merchants are doing and what countries we should be building alliances with." Sherlock groaned and hugged John close as he ducked his head to bury his face against his neck. "I was born into the wrong family, John."

You: John reached up and tangled his fingers into the prince's hair gently. He twirled the strands on the nape of his neck, softly, and held Sherlock close. "I wish I could make it better for you, Sherlock. I wish that I could make this life easier. One where you did not have to worry about things you didn't care about, one where we could be together." John's lips found purchase on Sherlock's temple, and he gave him a few affectionate kisses there. Sherlock deserved to be happy. He had the most wonderful things available to him, yes, but he also didn't. The King and Queen didn't pay attention to him, and when they did it was only to ridicule him. John wanted nothing more for than his prince to enjoy his life, to be happy. "Sometimes I wish that I could be reassigned new tasks. I'd rather be serving you, than to serve the whole of the Kingdom and your Father. He is a harsh man sometimes, you know."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded slightly against John's neck, and he let out a soft breath as he ran his hands along John's ribs before holding him tightly against himself. He shifted his legs to tangle with John's comfortably. "I would love that, to have you assigned to me. We could spend the entire day together. Have more nights like this." He kissed John's neck lightly and nuzzled into it lightly. "I can talk to him tomorrow. See what I can do." He moved his hands to push up under John's shirt and splayed his long fingers over the small of his back as he moved his head back enough to peer up at him with pale, innocent eyes.

You: "You would? Oh, that would be wonderful, Sherlock." John grinned. Now, it was up to the King. John hoped dearly that he could be Sherlock's servant. He wouldn't mind at all if he had to clean his things and his chamber. That did not matter. He would be with Sherlock, and doing things for his love. That would make him so very happy. With dark, navy eyes John got lost in Sherlock's iridescent gaze. Along with a kind, brilliant heart, Sherlock was gorgeous. Pale skin, strong cheekbones, piercing eyes. "Would you like me to remove my shirt, my lord?" John asked, his eyebrow raising. Though his words were spoken innocently, he also had a sly intent, which could be seen by the way his mouth upturned into a small smirk.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled a little at the question, and he shifted to nuzzle into the middle of John's chest before nodding. He rubbed John's back a bit before drawing his hands away again, and he shifted to help John remove his shirt gently. He ducked his head to press a soft kiss to John's abdomen as soon as it was revealed, and he smiled a little as he brought his lips up to the spot over John's heart. "Should I remove mine as well?" he hummed, voice a low rumble as pressed open-mouthed kisses to John's chest. John was warm and soft and extremely cuddly, and he loved him. He wanted to be as close as he could to the man.

You: John tossed his shirt to the floor, and a shudder passed through him as those torturous lips touched his skin. Oh, but it felt so very good when Sherlock kissed him like so. Quickly, the servant nodded. "Yes, it would be much appreciated," he answered, sliding his hands under the expensive fabric to help the man remove his shirt as well. Once the garment was gone, John seized the opportunity to return the kisses. He slid down, pressing kisses and soft nips along Sherlock's collar first. Then, his mouth slid down the pale, gorgeous chest his lover had. He placed a few open-mouthed kisses of his own to Sherlock's stomach, near his navel, but then slid up again. He was eager to feel the heat radiating between them, so John tugged Sherlock against him softly, and let their chests mold. It was a blissful feeling, and one John immediately snuggled into.

Stranger: A happy, appreciative hum rose from Sherlock's throat as his eyelids fell, and he placed his fingers in John's hair as he shivered a little at the kisses. As soon as John came back up, he placed a hand on his neck and folded their lips together to kiss him eagerly. "I love you, John," he murmured lowly into his mouth, sucking lightly at his lower lip. "So much." His other hand moved to lay over John's waist as he tangled their legs more tightly together, and he nudged their noses together as he relaxed at the feeling of having John pressed so close. He wanted to stay like that forever. A sad sigh left his lips as his thumb brushed along John's jaw. "I hate that we have to meet in secret, John. I want to be with you." He frowned and peered at his face again. "Father mentioned marriage today," he admitted softly. "He wants to find me a princess to create a union between kingdoms. I will refuse. I'll ignore every girl; I won't have anyone but you."

You: John cupped Sherlock's cheeks, his whole body alight with passion as he kept so close to the other. "I love you too, Sherlock. You've stolen my heart, and I never want it back." The blonde buried his face in Sherlock's neck, letting out a sad sigh. A relationship between servant and royalty was forbidden. What made it out of the question, was the fact that they were both of the male gender. But, to them it did not matter. They loved each other just like a normal couple, even if the world didn't see that. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm sorry that I am not a princess, able to marry you and give you children. I want nothing more than for you to be happy." Though, to know Sherlock would give up marriage for him, oh he had never felt so honored. It should be he, who was sacrificing for the prince, not the other way around. "But, if it is the only way for us to be together, than I will meet you in secret until they day I perish. I will love you until the ends of time, never leave your side."

Stranger: Sherlock lowered his head slightly to keep his cheek against John's temple as he hid in his neck, and he rubbed the blond's back slowly. "I've never had any interest in princesses," he hummed softly. "No one else, ever. Only you, John. I love you. You're the only one who took the time to try to understand me and be close to me." Sherlock cradled the back of his head and kissed his cheek. "Let Mycroft have the throne and marry a princess. I never wanted any of that."

You: John pulled back to meet their lips in a passionate kiss, with his smaller lips sliding against Sherlock's plump, full ones. The feeling made his chest ache and warm. Oh, the prince was so very good to him. "Oh, Sherlock. You're brilliant, amazing, kind. Not to mention gorgeous. I've never known someone as wonderful as you. You've made me a better man, introduced me to so much. I owe you a lot, my prince. I'm so very glad to have you as my lover. There will never be anyone else. Just you and I." He ducked his head to press a few kisses to Sherlock's neck, and rubbed at his lower back softly. His rough, calloused fingers slid along Sherlock's smooth skin. "Though you do not want it, I must say you would be a most wonderful King. An exceptionally handsome one, too."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled against John's lips, and he couldn't help but shiver a little as John's hands ran along him. He grinned and squeezed John lightly in his arms. "You're too kind to me," he replied softly. "I'd be a rubbish King. I'd probably start wars as experiments and order for there to be bees kept in the throne room." He chuckled quietly and kissed John's forehead. "But I would most certainly make this allowable. If I were to be King, I would want you beside me." He sighed fondly and shifted to settle more comfortably on the bed with John. "Did you eat?" he suddenly asked as the thought occurred to him. "Did dinner happen already?"

You: John laughed softly, imagining it. It only made him giggle more, at the thought of so many bees flying around the castle. "And, I would want nothing more than to stand besides you. To be yours, always." The blond shifted as well, settling comfortably, and tangling his legs with Sherlock's. He never wanted to stop the contact between them. Quickly, his hands found purchase on Sherlock's cheeks. "Don't worry, Sherlock. I had something before I came over. Have you eaten yet? Maybe I should go get you some food and bring it back here. After that, I promise I will not leave again." Though John had said he ate, he really only had something small. At home, with his mother and sister, they were only able to eat little. He had had a loaf of bread, luckily fresh, an apple, and some water. But, he was used to so little. His family couldn't afford much.

Stranger: Sherlock thought for a moment, thinking back through the day. "Ah, I didn't go to dinner, no. And I skipped lunch because I wanted to avoid political conversations, and I was upset by the idea of marriage. I slept through breakfast..." Sherlock frowned a bit. "I ate yesterday afternoon," he decided after a moment with a small nod before meeting John's eyes again. "Did you have enough? I know you can't afford much." Sherlock's brow furrowed in slight concern for him; he hated the idea of John going hungry. "Perhaps you should send for something, yes. For both of us." He kissed John's forehead. "Of course, you'll want to put your shirt back on. Can't have people talking any more than usual."

You: John chuckled softly, but his voice was a bit stern. "Sherlock, you shouldn't skip meals like so. It isn't good for your body. The physician would be appalled." But, he quickly lost his stern voice. He pressed kisses to Sherlock's face before gently sliding off the bed. He picked his shirt up off the floor, and pulled it over his surprisingly taunt, golden chest. His hair got tousled, and he smiled. "Alright, I will go fetch some food from the kitchens, and then return to you. I hope you don't bother clothing yourself again. I would love to return to you half nude." With a gentle chuckle, John then ducked out of the room in search of food. He came back about ten minutes later with platter of delicious looking foods, ones Sherlock was fond of, and he knocked on the door as he waited for permission to enter.

Stranger: Sherlock pouted a little at John's tone, and he rolled his eyes slightly. "I'm fine," he sighed quietly, propping his head on one hand to watch John dress. Once he had gone, Sherlock lay there quietly for a few moments before rising, and he went to grab his violin before returning to the bed. He leaned back against the headboard as he played quietly. Idle tunes to keep his mind occupied while he waited. He paused at the sound of the knock and called for John to enter, then set back to playing a slow, romantic melody as he smirked towards the door. "Would you be flattered if I told you I wrote this for you?" he inquired lowly over the music.

You: John shut the door behind them, his heart swelling. He set the platter down on Sherlock's bedside table, and watched the prince gracefully slid the bow over the strings. Oh, the sound was the most beautiful thing he;d ever heard. John found his eyes closing, and he couldn't help but sway slightly to the music. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes. He didn't want to speak, in fear of ruining the beautiful music, so he only kept his voice low. "It's beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I am entirely flattered and could listen to it forever." The servant slid up onto the bed and sat besides the other, watching him play with loving eyes. "I wish I could give you something in return. I hope you do enjoy the foods I have brought you. The kitchen staff weren't too pleased about the timing, but I managed to convince them."

You: *slide.

You: *he'd.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled as he watched John's reaction, and as he set the instrument aside he reached over to pull John into his chest again. "I love you," he mumbled softly, kissing John's forehead sweetly. "It does smell good, yes," he commented as he nuzzled against John's cheek. A slow breath left him as he reached over to pull the platter onto their laps, and he picked up a sweet roll to hold to John's lips. "Eat. You'll love the food. Better than anything you've tasted." He grinned and slipped his free arm around John's waist. "If you became my husband and King, I would make sure you got all of the delicious food you wanted. Your family, too. And I would put you to sleep with the violin every night to wake you up in my arms the next morning."

You: John took a small bite, chewing, and swallowing the heavenly food. The bread he had eaten earlier was nothing compared to this. John wished that all of the servants could eat as well as the royals. No one would be starving then. John picked up and apple slice and held it at Sherlock's lips. "You need to eat too. It's delicious, I've never tasted anything like it." With a smile, John waited for Sherlock to eat. Then, he took up one of the princes hands. John laced their fingers together, and looked to his eyes. "Just know, my love, that if the opportunity would arise, I would have no objections to becoming your husband. Not to have the luxuries, no. I want nothing more than to warm your bed at night, hold you as we sleep, and as we wake. I want nothing more than to help you, be there for you." The blond picked up a biscuit and held it up for Sherlock to take. "Do you have anything specific you would like to do after we finish eating? As long as we do something together, I will be open to any ideas, my love."

Stranger: ((I'm sorry, but I have to go. I've really loved this though))

Stranger has disconnected.

[jill0thewisp]

My art method: 

Start thing

Get halfway through thing

Get bored

Make new thing

Which is what led us here. To be fair, this thing and the first thing are both prince!lock. This is just royal wedding!prince!lock.

I know they both look super young but I figure everybody married young in Days of Yore (or whenever prince!lock is set :P)  -JG