Based on the second picture of this art set: auzzies. tumblr post/45140730086/

Warning: Blatant disregard for Old English.

Sherlock stood apart from his brother and parents, watching his family greet the visiting king and queen. They were only just taller than Mycroft, and their smiles seemed to soften even his parents' usually hard expressions.

The Holmes kingdom only just managed to reach out to the small kingdom overseen by the Watson family. Their visit was not planned, but nor was it a surprise. Fortunately, they were kind enough to find their own temporary housing within the village, and didn't march into the castle demanding lodgings.

Despite the Watsons' foresight, Sherlock didn't like having to take time away from his private laboratory to greet them.

Since the visitors had entered the chamber, he had subtly, almost imperceptibly, moved toward the exit. Even now, he was only a few strides away from the hall.

A throat cleared just off to his right, and he almost ignored it, believing it to be one of the servants. However, the origin of the sound was too low to be a servant, the sound too young. He turned his head.

A boy, likely no more than two years his senior, was looking down at him. He had pale blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile so genuine that Sherlock could scarcely believe it was directed at him. He was obviously the son of the visiting royals, but Sherlock was not aware of his existence up until now; he hadn't cared to learn about them.

"Your Highness," the boy greeted.

"Sherlock," he corrected without thought.

The boy's smile widened and, if it were possible, became even more intense in its sincerity. "John."

Sherlock didn't know what to say to that — Informalities already? Why did he start it? — and he internally floundered for a topic, an excuse to escape, anything.

John beat him to it. "My parents are here to negotiate a trade between our kingdoms."

"Obviously," Sherlock scoffed and, thankful for the opening, launched head first into an explanation of exactly how he knew, what issues the Watson's kingdom was currently facing, and why they hadn't been able to contact his kingdom sooner. By the time he managed to slow down enough to remember that people didn't necessarily like him because of this, he was already on his way to convincing himself that Prince John would be entirely put off.

Instead, when he focused his attention on the other boy, he couldn't tell what John thought of him.

"That's- yeah, that's brilliant," John told him, his smile renewed. "How could you tell?"

For once, Sherlock was completely speechless. "Brilliant?" he asked at last.

"Of course. That was really," John's smile slipped a little, as if he was unsure. No, not unsure; shy. "Very brilliant."

Sherlock couldn't stop his smirk, cockiness already overshadowing his initial surprise. "That's not what most people say."

—

Sherlock didn't want to see the Watsons out. He had enjoyed the time that he had been able to spend with the prince, John, since their arrival, and he didn't want the boy to leave.

He and John were standing face to face on the stone steps of his family's castle, John sporting another smile for Sherlock, now softened with a fondness fashioned by friendship. That thought still shook Sherlock to his core. They had met less than a fortnight ago, they couldn't be friends, could they?

John's parents called to him as they descended the stairway, and John gave them a swift nod before looking straight back at Sherlock.

"I'll come visit, Sherlock," John told him, not for the first time since the evening before. Sherlock remained stubbornly silent, and John shook his head in exasperation. "Fine."

John dropped down on one knee and pulled Sherlock's hand into his own. He pressed his lips to the soft skin of Sherlock's knuckle.

"I will come back, Your Highness," John promised with a whisper, eyes closed.

Sherlock was left stunned, and John's parting grin was the only official goodbye.