Disclaimer: All rights and associated merchandise and trademarked ideas belong to someone who is not me.
Author's note: Hi, Willow here, welcome to my first ever Sherlock fanfic! Yes, this has the pairing of John and Sherlock, so if that's not all fine with you, please just leave this story be. I had a really fun writing this, I liked the AU concept of a fairytale version of Sherlock, and hopefully that will be reflected in your own reading of this. This is one of those fics where I started writing and I just didn't stop for hours and then looked back it and wondered what exactly it came from but enjoyed it all the same. Hopefully the idea will come across well; in the actual version of The Twelve Dancing Princesses that I've read, it just seemed to fit John and Sherlock. In the original, there is a king (=Mycroft), the twelve princesses, the eldest of which is a dark haired, clever princess (=Prince Sherlock), and the sort of main character, a pure hearted soldier returning from war (=John). I hope you appreciate my rendering of this and whether you did or not, please leave a review and tell me what you thought, constructive criticism and any other input is immensely appreciated.
oOo
John Watson and Prince Sherlock, The Twelfth Dancing Prince
I suppose seeing as is customary, I must begin this story in the traditional way, so here it goes. Once upon a time a there was a great war filled with many great men who were quite a lot of things. This story, however, begins with a man who was no longer a lot of things. His name, dear reader, is John Watson, and he would continue to become much more.
John Watson had a limp. He was a soldier, had been a soldier; was a doctor, had been a doctor. He had finally been released along with his remaining men at arms from servitude in the Kingdom's army. With these soldiers he began the long journey home. Along the way they each came to their home town and there they parted ways. John Watson, however, didn't. He had nothing resembling home to return to unless one counted his drunkard of a sister, but that in itself is another story.
So as he ambled his way along, his limp prominent, his blonde hair tussled and his eyes a tad too alert for all their blue-green well meaning. He came to a town with a single road named Baker Street, and as he walked he came among an elderly woman, though one would never say such to her face; over laden with parcels of all sort. Upon seeing her, John's kind heart ignored the many equally able young men refusing to help her and took it upon himself to assist her in her task.
Though John didn't know it, the elderly woman's name was Mrs. Hudson, and there was a reason the men of the town left her well enough alone. She was kindly enough, but had been married to a man nowhere near as kind and when he was arrested for it; she all but assisted in the assurance of his death warrant. Now while the women in the town supported the lovely old lady, the men folk weren't quite as bright, and out of an only mildly misplaced sense of fear stayed far out of her way.
Quite pleased with the assistance from the kind man, Mrs. Hudson led him back to her home, number 221B, and made him some tea and scones. While kindly reminding him that she would be his host "not your housekeeper", she offered him a chance to stay for a while. Quite glad for the tea and scones and equally glad for the rest, John conceded and stayed there that night.
While John slept, Mrs. Hudson came to the decision that his kindness really had to be repaid, and that she had the perfect way to do so. While none in the town were aware of it, back when Mrs. Hudson was younger, she was a full time Fairy Godmother. She doled out kindness to the good and repaid the evil for their misdeeds all in time for supper, and with such experience, she hatched a plan for our good natured John Watson.
Upon waking that morning, John Watson had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Over breakfast and a good spot of tea, Mrs. Hudson told him of all that had and was occurring in the kingdom since his return from the war. After dishing everything from the frivolous spending of the recent princesses to the slaying of a Wyvern over in the South, she maneuvered her way onto the part of conversation she meant to interest John with.
She told him of the so titled by everyone else in the Kingdom "Twelfth dancing Prince", though no one could actually recall where the "twelfth" part came from; it was the pairs of shoe he had worn through before the king became aware of his actions. She wove for John the story of how each night Prince Sherlock, younger brother of King Mycroft, disappeared from his bedroom without a trace, only to return on the morrow with a pair of worn out shoes and slightly more hollow eyes accented by sharpened cheek bones. Having lured John in, she then told of the reward to whoever might discover the Prince's secret, she, unlike the other villagers such as Anderson the Simple already knew it was in part dancing and something a bit more sinister.
Having seen the light returning to the young man's eyes at the mention of such adventure, Mrs. Hudson knew her, rather well meaning, plan was working. Having reached the end of her tale, she reached into the chest located rather haphazardly to her left and pulled out a shimmery garment. Smiling a rather knowing grin, she offered it to John stating "this was left here by one of my rather flighty tenants, should you chose to see if you might puzzle out what is wrong with the prince, please take it, for it will grant you invisibility".
Slightly disbelieving, John tried the cloak and was amazed to see that it did indeed work. Still on high from all the excitement, he agreed to try to discover the Prince's secret and set off at once, promising to return the cloak should he accomplish his task. Kissing him a fond farewell on the cheek, Mrs. Hudson returned inside to wait for what she considered the inevitable. She did know her godson after all, and while it may have been a time since she had played the customary role as fairy godmother, finding him a spouse had been on her to do list for a while.
With his slightly less prominent limp and some food from Mrs. Hudson in his pack beside the cloak, John Watson was on his way. It took him nearly a fortnight to reach the castle and even then, his arrival wasn't exactly heralded as a good thing. Entering past the gates and ignoring the whispered warnings of "get out of here before the freak drives you insane" by a Knight Donovon, a name only known from the head Knight Lestrade telling her to be quiet, he continued forward.
Upon reaching the throne room, he was almost surprised at how easily he was led into the throne room. There, seated upon three massive thrones sat three equally awe inspiring individuals who made John feel like a piece of straw compared to the crown jewels. Seated in the center throne sat a slightly pudgy and scrutinizing man who could be none other than the King.
Seated on the far end of the line of thrones sat the most stunning being John had ever seen with milky skin, icy eyes, a lithe overly tall frame, and angular cheek bones. He looked bored and could be none other than the Prince Sherlock himself.
Seated between the two was their mother, the Queen. She sat elegantly, almost an echo of her youngest child if it were not for her disposition and the mirth written in her eyes.
Standing before the three of them, John could not help but to feel out of place, especially when the Prince's eyes shifted from bored to calculating in an instant. Then, what could only be categorized as a smirk flitted across the prince's features before he began to speak in a sharp tone "you just left the war, a warrior and a doctor, your parents have passed, and you don't get on with your brother Harry".
Almost speechless and unsure as to whether he should be surprised John asked the first thing that came to his mind, "how could you know".
And then Prince Sherlock explained, "you have a psychosomatic limp, favoring your left leg to your right but without a cane as if you've not only forgotten but almost aren't aware, your hands are calloused, but as if from holding small objects requiring fine motions as opposed to swords, and your pack, quite masculine, bearing an insignia that doesn't belong to you but contains the initials H.W., a sibling of some sort, obviously your brother.
Mouth slightly agape, John stared at him in wonder before actually expressing such "amazing", and was amused to note that the Prince actually smiled at him, almost shyly, something offset only slightly by the look of surprise shot by the King at the Prince's behavior.
Following this impromptu but not wholly unexpected by the other individuals seated upon the thrones show, the King explained to John the challenge. He would have three nights with which to sleep in same room as the Prince. Within that time, he was to discover the Prince's secret and prove his discovery.
Should he not discover the Prince's secret in that amount of time, he would be removed from the palace, never to return. Nodding his understanding, a guard came to escort John to his room. As he was leaving, he turned back and made eye contact with the Prince before speaking clearly "I don't have a brother. H.W. is my sister" and moving out the door.
While John Watson would never know it, the smirk was back onto Prince Sherlock's face. The game was on.
That night, after both Prince Sherlock and John had settled themselves as if to sleep, Sherlock called a maid named Molly to bring them both some tea, whispering some extra instructions to her that John could not hear. Waiting for the tea, the two sat in silence.
When the tea had arrived, Sherlock seemed extra careful to give John a specific tea cup and at this point John knew he had right to be suspicious. Inhaling it's aroma, he recognized several added components to it from his day as the army doctor, all of which were meant to aid one's journey into sleep.
Having figured out the Prince's game, but not wishing to show his hand quite yet; John pretended to drink quite a bit of the heavily drugged stuff, before rolling onto the bed in a false sleep. Too anxious to notice that his new roommate was not in actuality asleep, Sherlock proceeded to step forward onto a golden tile on the floor and waltz all the way through the wall.
Having seen Sherlock from under his hooded lashes, John quickly sat up, pulled the cloak out from his pack, rendered himself invisible, and followed in the young Prince's waltzing footsteps. It seems he had made it just in time, for, having come through to the other side of the wall, John just managed to fall into a small boat that was carrying Prince Sherlock across what appeared to be a lake.
A man whose face was covered by shadows spent the entire trip across the water steering the boat while attempting to entice the Prince into taking from him a pill. Having finally reached the other side, Sherlock hopped out, and John followed. Now on an island in the middle of the Lake, the Prince moved forward analyzing things until a shadowy figure stepped forward and intercepted him into a dance. Looking rather put out by this, the Prince waited until the dance was over to try to extricate himself, but didn't quite manage.
The shadowy figure seemingly composed of actual shadow continued to dance with the Prince catching his eye purposefully as often as possible. Each time the horrible shade did so, the Prince became paler and seemed to almost fade.
At long last, dawn approached even the magical island and Prince Sherlock was finally able to draw himself out of the shadow's grip and back into the boat, analyzing as much as he could. John remained right on his heels, actually scared of the prospect of being stuck in the odd place. While leaving the boat from which the ferryman was again trying to ply the Prince with pills, John snuck one and watched in wonder as it turned to pure silver.
Then, actually running without feeling his limp while maintaining the cloak's hold over him, he danced his way back into the room before the Prince and returned to sleep for real this time. The next morning, both John and Prince Sherlock looked exhausted and when later that day the King took John off to question him about the night before, Sherlock looked on almost with regret.
Once alone with the King, John proceeded to tell him his tale, pulling out the silver pill and presenting it to him. He said he would do the same on the next night and would bring back more proof. Oddly enough, the King believed him on both accounts.
That night, he followed the same routine, pretending to fall into a drugged sleep and then following Sherlock. As Sherlock was forced to dance with the shadow man, John could not imagine he had ever seen a more graceful creature than Sherlock, nor did he deny that he would do whatever it took to save him.
Upon his return to the room, this time he took a goblet filled with the water from the lake, which turned to flowing gold upon being taken. The next day he showed it to Mycroft, but knew his time was drawing to an end unless he could stop and then convince Sherlock to tell of what had been going on.
Only a few hours before he was to go settle in for his third night, John finally came up with a plan. He went to the little maid Molly and convinced her to switch his and Sherlock's cups of tea. After much persuasion, she agreed, and John hoped he knew what he was getting himself into.
When Molly arrived with their tea that night, she didn't show any sign of her deceit and, after having drained his whole glass, Sherlock himself fell into a drugged sleep.
Drawing upon his courage, John Watson waltzed his way through the wall, this time entirely visible for all to see. He came upon the boat man and, when offered a pill, he took one, and then offered it back, and the other man seemed to have no choice, ate it, and disappeared.
Accidentally cutting himself on the edge of the sharpened oar handle, a drop of his blood fell into the water which, upon impact, hissed and writhed as if full of snakes before disappearing as well. Now under his own power, no limp in sight, John walked across to what was left of the island.
Appearing before him, far more substantial than he had originally been was the shadow man who hissed at him. John asked in a loud clear voice, "How do I get rid of you?"The shade answered back his voice great and terrible "name me".
John did. He thought of the only being horrible enough to be the creature and spoke "You were once called Moriarty" and with this the Shadow began to grow and stretch as if suddenly powerful, until John finished "and now you are nothing".
The shadow turned into ash that disappeared as it hit the ground. Tired, truly tired, John lumbered back to the room he might be sharing with Prince Sherlock for a final time. So deeply fatigued was he that he fell into the first available bed, not even taking into account the sleeping form of the Prince already in it.
That morning, both men slept very late and were very surprised in regard to the manner in which they woke. Sherlock regained consciousness first, his tussled black lock falling into his highly surprised eyes, eyes that had just registered himself cuddling with the man lying next to him in bed.
Along with that, he found that his mind had cleared form the fog that had been cast into it by that evil Shade Moriarty. Most surprising of all to him was how right it felt to him, awaking in the embrace of the shorter incredibly attractive blonde man, a man who was his savior.
Shifting ever so slightly, he took into account the state of the room, most amused by the cloak of invisibility discarded on the floor. It had been one of his earlier inventions and he quite clearly recalled who he had given it to; his kindly fairy godmother Mrs. Hudson. The conclusion he drew from this made him chuckle deeply.
It was the rumble of his pillow's chuckle that awoke John Watson the next day. Then he remembered that pillows weren't supposed to laugh and found himself nose to nose with none other than the Prince.
Sherlock glanced down in bemusement at the confusion stated plainly on the sleepy blonde man's face, and what a face it was. In his still deep from sleep voice, the Prince asked his sleepy savior "I don't suppose either Mrs. Hudson or my brother told you what exactly your reward entails?"
Frowning slightly in confusion, John shook his head and then asked "how do you know about Mrs. Hudson?"
"She happens to be my fairy godmother" Sherlock replied, and John actually managed to find this answer only the slightest bit surprising responding with an "of course she is" which led them both into a set of what could only be classified as giggles.
"It means we are to be married, that's the reward" said Sherlock after a time and John actually spluttered, shock coloring his face along with a, to Sherlock at the very last, incredibly adorable smile.
Then, surprising them both, they leaned in and kissed a kiss full of wonder and uncertainty that melted into comfort and a sureness that only ever accompanied something when it was truly right. Lying back on what indeed turned out to be his fiancé; John sighed and stared up towards the ceiling only to suddenly realize that they were no longer alone.
Staring at the two of them with a mixture of pride and worry stood King Mycroft and he and Sherlock's mother. She smiled beatifically and stated "finally", before dragging the protesting King from the room like a petulant two year old. Escaping her grasp for an instant he called back "don't forget to return the cloak" at the pair of them and then was pulled away.
The two men still cuddling in the bed continued to do so, this time with smiles prominent across their features, knowing they would have as long as they liked both before and after they were married, and who knew how long that would take.
They turned back to each other and found themselves drawn into another bout of affection, lips and teeth meeting passionately, hands grasping tentatively, smiles sliding into place, everything so new and surprising to both parties. Even with the idea of getting married someday all but looming over their heads, they knew they had all the time and adventure in the world to get to know each other. After all, they still needed to return to Mrs. Hudson her cloak at 221b Baker Street.