In Which Prince Sherlock Finally Gets Some

The door crashed open and into John's nose.

"Ow!"

"Shh!"

Before they could say or do anything else, someone unexpected came into the room.

"Prince Sherlock! Are you all right? I'm here to rescue you."

John, rubbing his squished nose, said, "Been there, done that."

"Lestrade! What are you doing here?"

The moment Sir Gregory stepped through the door, the requisite shaft of sunlight fell through the window and landed on him, causing his armor to glow, and a soft halo of light graced his head. The angel chorus ramped up the music and a shout of 'Hallelujah' reverberated through the air.

"Hello."

"How did you know where we were? It's not like you to figure these things out!"

"Ta for that. You weren't around to bother Myc…I mean His Majesty so he thought I should look for you. Asked around. Someone said they'd seen you trussed up and taken prisoner. I wasn't impressed they hadn't come to the castle to inform anyone, but then I figured no one likes you that much."

"Yes, very well. Let's go. Come John."

"What? No thanks for rescuing you?"

"We were very close to escaping ourselves. It was just a matter of time."

John came out from behind the door, still rubbing his nose. "You know, that whole door thing, swinging open and revealing someone, does that happen to you a lot?" he asked Sherlock. Turning the other way, he added, "Thank you, Sir Gregory."

"Hang on a minute. Who are you?"

"Oh, do keep up. I mentioned his name."

"You're John?"

"I'm John. Captain John Watson at your service."

"But weren't you a frog?"

"I got better."

Sherlock groaned impatiently. "We don't have time for this. We need to find Moriarty before he does something much worse or possibly amusing."

"What are you talking about?"

"How on earth do you put your armor on in the morning? Are you really that slow? What does Mycroft see in you?"

"Sherlock! Be nice!"

"I don't want to know what you do with my brother, so don't bother explaining. Jim, the servant, is Jim Moriarty. He is the one responsible for John being turned into a frog. He also, with her permission, turned Irene Adler into a horse. His next target is my brother. You remember him the one you bed…"

"That's enough," said Sir Gregory.

"Right, follow me."

"Where are we going?" asked John.

"To find Jim Moriarty."

"And you know where he is?"

"Of course! He threatened my brother so obviously he's back at the castle and is preparing to turn Mycroft into, I don't know, a goldfish or something or he already has. "

"You're sure about this?"

"Of course. It's what I would do if I were an evil master criminal bent on destroying the monarchy. Besides, he wrote it on the wall over there." Sherlock pointed to the tower wall, where a message in messy paint had been written. 'Gone to turn your brother into a goldfish, Sherlock! Try and stop me. Mwahahahaoriarty!' "To the castle!"

Setting a rapid pace, Sherlock made straight for the castle and marched across the drawbridge, followed closely by John and Sir Gregory.

They entered the castle and into the throne room in time to see Jim standing in front of King Mycroft with what looked like a cabbage.

"…and that, Your Majesty, is how in a matter of moments you will be gasping for air. If you are wondering why I am doing this to you, know that I have been kicked around since I was born, and now it's all right, it's okay, but you won't look the other way, while you try to understand the magic effect on you…highness. Doesn't rhyme but I don't care." He span around and sang, "Ah, ha, ha, ha staying alive, staying alive," whilst King Mycroft looked at Jim Moriarty with a bored expression on his face.

"There is nothing worse than a petty, small minded villain trying to dance like it's the '70s. Please spare us your dreary explanations of how you intend to end our existence and get on with it." He looked up as the three men entered the throne room. "Ah, gentlemen, just in time."

Moriarty stopped dancing and turned toward the door. "No! How did you escape? You weren't meant to get away!"

"That's quite possibly one of the most ridiculous things you've said. If you hadn't intended for me to escape, you wouldn't have left that message telling me where you were headed."

"Yeah, all right! You know what they say about genius. I dooo sooo love an audience. Now watch helplessly while I turn your brother into a goldfish!"

He waved the cabbage in the air and made a motion as if he was going to smash it on the ground.

John leaned over to Sherlock. "Did he have a cabbage last time?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay."

Sir Gregory drew his sword and moved forward to run Moriarty through, but Sherlock stopped him.

"He's going to hurt the King! Let me go!"

"Ah no, see," said John "you get to save him after by throwing him against a wall three times and then kissing him."

"I thought you weren't supposed to tell him about the throwing against the wall thing?"

"Nah, I just wanted you to work for it."

"Ah."

"What are you two talking about?"

"Let Molarity turn him into a goldfish. You can save him and then you know…" John waggled his eyebrows.

Sir Gregory rolled his eyes and rushed forward. Moriarty distracted by all the unnecessary hand gestures didn't see him lift his sword and then slam it on the back of Moriarty's head.

"Oww! That hurt! You know that was just mean!"

"Save it!" He gave a shout of "Guards!" and his men rushed into the throne room and trussed Moriarty up.

"Take him away," motioned the King. "Sir Gregory, come here. Kneel before us." The King looked down at him with what in a dim light could be construed as fondness. "We are pleased with your work here today capturing the villain, Moriarty who threatened our life. Hand me your sword." King Mycroft took the sword and placed the tip on Sir Gregory's shoulders. "You are already a Knight and Captain of the guard, but now I also add another title. Arise, Sir Gregory, Guard of the Royal Bedchamber."

"Eww!" said Sherlock. "Not something I needed to witness."

It seemed that Jim Moriarty hadn't finished, however. "You may have defeated me this time, Prince Sherlock, but I will have my revenge!"

"What are you gibbering about now?"

"You may think you have saved Johnny, boy, but my curse is too strong!"

"Yeah, um, but I'm me again, so your little curse doesn't work anymore."

"He kissed you didn't he?"

"Yes, but…"

"And you were thrown against the wall three times, weren't you?"

"Yes but…"

"'Yes but, yes but.' There's a third part to breaking the spell. All good things happen in threes. And it is so horrible, so awful, so soul withering, you my dear, will turn back into a frog at sunrise, and there won't be any way to break the spell again." He threw back his head and laughed maniacally. A flash of light and a peal of thunder echoed outside in the courtyard.

Sherlock and John looked at each other. John shrugged. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We know you're dying to tell us so get on with it."

Moriarty giggled some more. "Oh but it's so perfect, you see, this worked out even better than I thought. Because the person who kisses the victim has to sleep with them. I know your poor virgin ears won't understand so I will spell it out for you. What it means, my dear, is that have to have s-e-x with the good Doctor to save his mighty fine arse and seeing as how we all know you're as frigid as an icicle…"

'That's it? That's easy! Let's go, John."

"Now hang on!"

"Wait! What? You mean you want to have sex," Moriarty waved his arms flailingly in John's direction, "with him? And his awful jumpers! You'll get warts!"

"Hey! I'm not a frog anymore. And that's a myth."

"Oh Jim, can't you see you've given me the one person I can have sex with, look forward to having sex with," Sherlock stepped closer to Moriarty. "With whom I will thoroughly enjoy having sex. I must thank you, but forgive me if I don't touch your hand to shake it. Without your intervention I would never have met John, never have fallen in love with him and never have desperately wanted to get him naked and in my bed." Sherlock turned and snapped his fingers. "John! Now!"

"I was just kidding! You don't need to have sex! No…let go of me!" he yelled.

"Too late! I'm going to have all of the sex!"

Ignoring a sputtering and gagging Moriarty as he was lead away by the Guard, Sherlock started to jog toward the staircase. He didn't get very far when it dawned on him that John was not following. He turned to see him in the same spot, not having moved, with a small frown on his face.

"John, what are you waiting for, time is of the essence, let's go so we can, you know…"

"No, I don't think so."

Sherlock's mouth fell open a bit. "You don't think so? Don't you want to?" And he jerked his head toward the stairs.

"Yes, I do actually." John stepped closer. "I want to make slow, sweet, passionate love to you but not. Like. This."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently. "John, I'm not sure how well I'll perform seeing as I've never done this before, and since it's Moriarty we're talking about, I think I should make you orgasm at least three times and to be on the safe side I probably should as well…"

"Stop, just stop." John placed a careful hand over Sherlock's mouth. "I want you to stop talking for a change, and I want you to listen." He went up on his toes, moved his hand out of the way and pecked Sherlock on the lips. "Yes, I want to have sex with you. Yes, I would rather like to try to make each other orgasm at least three times, and I would love to spend the rest of my days making you orgasm a whole bunch more. However," he took a deep breath. "However, I would like to have a bit of wooing first. And perhaps a touch of romance." He stepped back and nodded once.

"You want to be wooed?"

"Yes, I think I would."

"You want romance?"

John nodded again. "Yeah, you know, a candlelit dinner, soft music, the moon and stars. Romance. Tell me you want to have me, hold me. Tell me you want this night, our first time, to be special. Whisper sweet nothings into my ear."

"Oh, come on, John. You need to have sex to break the spell! It's not like there's another cure here." He pouted, stomped his foot and sighed heavily. "Very well! Please, please, please, come up to my room and let me undress you and see what you're hiding under that awful jumper?"

"Nope."

Sherlock frowned. No one ever said no to him, not when it was important, not when it was something he desperately wanted.

"Fine! Erg! I will see what I can do." He stormed off, yelling, "Lady Hudson!"

John made himself comfortable and waited.

oOo

John's head started nodding as he began to fall asleep. A lot had happened in the last few weeks and being turned into a frog, his lack of proper rest, wall climbing skills, daring-do and amorous attention to the lady frogs was beginning to catch up.

"John!"

"Hmmm? What?" Sherlock stood over him, shaking his shoulder. "I have something I would very much like to show you." He had a small smile on his face and a definite twinkle in his eye. "We must hurry because I'd like you to see it before the sun goes down."

"All right." John stood and stretched, his hands over his head. When he brought them down again, he noticed Sherlock looking at his midsection.

"What is it?"

"Well when you lift your hands like that, your belly shows, and it does funny things to me." He looked back at John and blushed. John stepped close to Sherlock, smiled at him with his killer smile and placed his hand on the back of Sherlock's neck, drawing his head down. "I'm going to kiss you now," he said in a quiet, deadly voice. Sherlock blushed harder. John, with just the right pressure and just the right lip movement, slowly and carefully kissed the stuffing out of him.

"John?" Sherlock said after John had pulled away, Sherlock's lower lip between his own.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"If we don't go soon I might embarrass myself."

John chuckled, "Very well." He headed toward the stairs.

"This way."

"We're going outside?"

"You wanted the moon and the stars. I am bringing you to them."

Sherlock held out his hand to John, who smiled and took the hand in his, and together they made their way out of the castle, walking a familiar path. The last time John had been this way he'd been considerably shorter.

"Are we going to the pond?"

"I thought it fitting, seeing as it's where I first met you."

As they drew closer, John could hear the soft strains of a violin. The light faded in small measures the way watercolours dissolve, spreading out in soft blues, purples, and greens. A chorus of crickets also serenaded them as they walked the path and the stars were winking into the night sky as if they had all the time in the world. John noticed a small table set in the tall grass. Two chairs and a servant waited. There were lanterns on metal poles placed into the ground at intervals and the aroma of good food wafted into the air. Something large floated out on the pond. It gleamed in the fading light, the last rays of the sun touching the golden tops of the posts as if giving a benediction.

"Is that…is that a bed?"

"Yes, John. I had it placed on an enormous raft and anchored out in the pond."

Flabbergasted, he could just make out the outline of the bed in the faint light. It was an enormous four-poster with billowing curtains of a flimsy material in soft pastels, open to the night sky. It could be that as the sky drifted to black, the colours of the sunset had bled into the material, leaving them behind.

John reached up and pecked Sherlock on the cheek. Sherlock lifted John's hand and kissed him on the knuckles before showing him to his seat.

What they ate for supper, John would have a hard time remembering, the anticipation of what lay before them driving all thoughts out of his head. He smiled gently at Sherlock, and while the conversation swirled through the air, he only took in the silver and green eyes, the plush, pink lips and the way his nose crinkled. Sherlock for his part committed everything to memory, the way John giggled and how he deliberately licked his finger whilst staring at Sherlock's mouth and how the sound of the music blended in with the sound of the night waking up.

Finally, finally, he stood, dismissed the violinist and the servant, held out his hand and led John onto a small boardwalk that took them to the raft where the bed was anchored.

Sherlock looked at John whose midnight blue eyes reflected the night sky in them. John lifted a hand and tucked an errant curl behind Sherlock's ear. And then he kissed him.

"Okay, let's get naked," he whispered.

"Had enough wooing?"

"Oh God, yes!"

Their clothing quickly lay in a pile on the raft. Sherlock felt uncommonly shy, having not really been naked in front of someone before and this being the first time he slept with a human, sleeping with John the frog not really counting.

Cupping his face, John smiled before he leaned in to kiss him. He then drew him slowly onto the bed. Kisses and sighs, skin tingles and goose bumps, the occasional gasp and a few 'Oh God, Yes! John's' followed. For good measure, John definitely had three spectacular, toe curling orgasms and Sherlock, for good measure, to keep him company and to be on the safe side, did as well.

Morning came, and as the sunrise broke, Sherlock woke to find John, still human, with his head on his shoulder, looking thoroughly and happily shagged out. Sherlock kissed his forehead, stroked his hair and then shook him awake, saying. "John, wake up! We need to get to the throne room and tell Mycroft all about the fabulous sex we had. I'm sure there would be no way that he and Sir Gregory had better sex."

Blinking his eyes, he squinted a bit at Sherlock, kissed his chest and replied, "I'm going to have my hands full with you, aren't I?"

Sherlock shimmed his body down a bit, so their faces were in line. "Yes John, you will. There's only you, you see," he said rather solemnly.

"Only me what?

"There's only you to keep me right, John Watson."

"Ah Sherlock, I love you. Marry me?"

"Yes, John."

And they were married shortly after and lived Happily Ever after.

Or at least they did after they had solved numerous complicated and tantalizing mysteries, including The Case of the Slumbering Princess and the Seven Short Stalkers, The Mystery of the Missing Crystal Slipper, The Burgling Blondie and the Broken Bed and many, many more.

The End