Disclaimer: I am neither Steve Moffet or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and as such, claim no ownership of Sherlock Holmes (even if the Cumberbatch is gorgeous). This fic is the product of my twisted mind and rather strange sense of humour.

Chapter 2

Well, it's time to slow down a bit here, since we were heading forward at a great pace. John is still doing housework though. In terms of how much time has gone by, less than you think, but more than you expect. John is neither a blushing 16-year-old brat who, let's face it, most fairystories seem intent on telling us is the normal age for a life-long commitment, nor an old decrepit man. He is at an age when he has seen more than most in his position, learned all he can from the library of his house (and yes, the house is technically his), and done over 10,000 loads of washing, scrubbed over 20,000sq feet of floor in total and washed over 4,000 windows.

He may or may not have had a serious love relationship, for a man his age to be untouched is a bit unfeasible, and certainly there was a time a little while ago when he was enamoured of a nice young lady called Sarah, but they mutually decided that while they liked each other, it was not the sort of like that spawned epic romance novels, with Fabio on the cover.

Mind you, he didn't always do the housework. He was able to find a part-time job elsewhere, working in the local doctor's clinic, as a medic. Due to the fact that Molly decided she wanted to be in the medical industry (for some unknown reason she was fascinated with dead bodies and always wanted to know how they died), Sébastia allowed John to accompany her as a chaperone but he soon became interested in the medical world and gained a medic's degree. It was where he met Sarah, she was a nurse at the clinic, and it was a mutual interest in the welfare of the sick, who came in that sparked the interest in each other.

But like I said before, this story is not of those times, and it is a fairytale. So how to continue? I said before that there were catalysts to this story. The death of his birth mother was the first, and the marriage of his father to his step-mother was the second. This part is of the third.

In a neighbouring city, there was a king. And with a king there is naturally a 'queen' (whether it be female or male). This kingdom had a female. And with kings and queens there were normally princes and princesses (adopted as in the latter case of the queen definition).

This kingdom had two princes (thankfully none had been born with any extra accoutrements, unlike a prince or something in another kingdom who had been born with the sun at his feet and the moon above his head, meaning his long suffering mother had to have gestated two celestial objects as well as a child). There is a saying 'If only they'd use their powers for good…instead of evil…' which I believe aptly describes both prince's, for both were geniuses, and both used their genius to entertain themselves, as befitted their personalities.

The elder pretty much ruled the kingdom, even though his father was still alive, and was quite happy to take on the role of king. The younger didn't have as much responsibility, and preferred to spend his days irritating the castle staff and causing major renovating projects when one or more of his experiments demolished parts of said castle.

However, as it is the case with most princes, the time eventually came when the youngest prince had to marry. And there was a very long discussion, which involved 3 weeks of sulks, accompanied by an insidious odour that permeated the castle for about 2 weeks (the result of a midnight experiment binge involving the combinations of different gasses), 6 Ming Dynasty vases broken, a priceless tapestry sacrificed to an experiment involving the tensile strength of wet fabric when trying to lift a horse out of the moat, said horse being catapulted into the moat due to an experiment of the feasibility of using a catapult to hurl soldiers into an enemy compound, and 1 week of violin practice at 3 in the morning, right next to the kennels.

But the king, using unfair logic against his youngest, prevailed, and the younger prince was forced to resign himself to his fate. But how does a prince gain a bride? In normal circumstances, meeting by mutual friends and getting to know the other person via mail and phone is considered a fair way of doing things. However, this is a fairytale and nothing is ever so easy.

The queen made a suggestion over dinner one day, and since the king could think of no other option (the only other was turning the prince into a frog and letting him loose to find a princess. The youngest prince immediately vetoed the idea claiming instead of finding a princess, he'd spend all his days hopping about the palace, croaking at all hours of the night, jumping into every buxom duchess's dress, and sitting on his father's pillow after just getting out of a muddy puddle), the plans for a grand ball were made, much to both princes disgust. Another week of negotiations (in which the younger prince made the chef quit, destroyed his mother's prize azaleas, and caused the plumbing in the castle to run backwards), the prince acquiesced, but said he would not marry anyone he deemed boring.

So the king decided to allow anyone from the age of 15 to 60 to come, in the hopes that in the gathered party would be someone mildly amusing. When the invitations were delivered, they were sent out to not only the city and surrounds, but all towns in the kingdom (John, like I said before, was in a neighbouring city about 30 minutes via carriage away).

As in all fairystories involving a ball, princes and ugly step-siblings, as soon as Jim and Molly received the invitation, they immediately began ball preparations. Sébastia also prepared, being under the cut-off point of the age limit. And quite naturally, the house was put into total disarray, no matter how sensible one tries to be when invited to a grand gala event, everyone's personality eventually devolves into something that would make a bridezilla seem like the pope. And much to his disgust, John had to clean up after all this, which unfortunately, reduced the time he could spend at the clinic.

The days passed, and as the lead-up to first day of the ball came closer, even John was getting excited (in fairytales one always does, no matter how logical and sensible one is), about going. However, upon the very eve of the ball, John was called away to the clinic, for there was an accident involving a carriage (going to the ball, naturally) and a cabbage man's cart. No cabbages were hurt, but the driver of the carriage had broken his leg and John had to set it.

He got back to the house late, too late to catch his family leaving to go the ball, and so decided that tomorrow was as good a day than any to go and wasn't it better to have a nice dinner and read The Royal Physician's Visit by Per Olov Enquist before heading to bed?

Alas, that was not the way fairytales go, so just as John settled down next to the fire, he was rudely interrupted by a persistent and rather irritated knocking at the kitchen door, before a strange man with a wand swept in.

"Hello," the man said, "I'm your fairy godfather."

A/N: Like I said earlier. This story kinda has a life of it's own. I still plead the fifth.