I'm writing this because I got a random idea and the people I'm staying with are watching a horse soap opera which I'm trying to mentally block.
Oh god, how do I start this.
I'm just going to jump in.
Aaand go!
My name is Sherlock Holmes. I come from a land of ice and thought. Where centuries of knowledge are carved into the very foundation of civilization and there are more languages than there have ever been people. A land of powdered diamond and crystal spears and frosted forests tearing at the sky. And it would've all been mine. I was a prince, ever so close to becoming king, one step below 'god'. But, just as the crown brushed my fingertips, I was stolen. Or rather, sold. By my jealous elder brother Mycroft, the hidden power behind the mask of god. I was sold as a concubine for a king's collection of exotic objects.
They took me to the edge of a boiling sea. They had to drag me off the ship and onto the burning embers they called land. For seven years I've been kept in a prison of thick perfumes and meaningless riches and heat. The first two months I spent in a blind haze of grief and heat-sickness. Sobbing in the dark, too dehydrated to actually shed tears. Having food shoved down my throat only to vomit it up again an hour later. Spending night after night trembling and screaming at the thought that I was so close to the top, and now I'd never even feel a cold breeze again. I was in an endless ocean of despair. Until I overheard...
"He must be a weak specimen. The prettiest ones usually are. It'd be best to put him down. Before things get... ugly."
They had never guessed that I've picked up their language, idiots that they are. So they never had any hesitation to... speak their mind around me. As I heard it, a cold fury flooded through me. It cleared my head and I began conjuring a plan.
'Escape whatever it takes, kill whenever possible.'
The next day, the guards entered my room to give me my daily feeding. They expected the shaking, squealing little slave boy and found Sherlock Holmes, prince among prostitutes.
Gaining the king's favor was so easy, it was laughable. A magic trick here, a flutter of the eyelashes there, the slightest accent from somewhere exotic and I was his prized possession. The queen despised me. Of course, he had no idea how easy he was to control. I could've shoved a bit between his teeth and steered him around like a pony and he'd still be oblivious. But, royal and rich as he was, he mattered little to me. In this country, the king was little more than a figurehead. An arrogant, loud, vulgar figurehead with foul breath. With him, I'd be stuck in that blasted country forever. Still, the title of 'the king's personal concubine' allowed me many liberties. It also served as a great vantage point to seek out better targets.
That is how I found Lestrade, the king's general. Smart man. Smart enough to wonder if I was something more than all the other pretty little toys in the king's collection. He caught my interest, so I caught his. Discreetly whispering the secrets of his enemies into his ear before dinner. Suggesting military strategies after 'dessert'. The king may be greedy, but he was in no way selfish. The second Lestrade expressed his fascination with me, I was given over as a gift. Lestrade lives mainly in the palace, so it wasn't as if the king was losing me. I was very happy with the arrangement, as it was originally my idea anyways.
No one would suspect that I, the pretty little dove perched on the shoulder of the king's general, am still waiting to carry out my plan.
'Escape whatever it takes. Kill whenever possible.'
I've got ideas for the next few chapters. But I'm not sure I should continue with this.
Tell you what. 5 reviews on this chapter and I'll start up the next one.
Also, if this does go above one chapter, I'm thinking of writing all future chapters in third person. It gives me more flexibility.