Archive of Our Own

Missing - (When I First Saw You Series - Part 3)

By Joolz

He has been a happily married man now for five months and John couldn’t imagine life getting much better than this. He and Sherlock had spent the majority of the first month tucked away in their own suite, only coming out when asked to do so by his mother to share one of their meals with the family. These they had suffered through as quickly as possible as they'd also consisted of copious amounts of teasing from his sister, Harry. Not that she could talk; she’d been just as bad when she and Clara got married and John didn’t remember being anything like as obnoxious to her. Well he didn’t care anyway, let her get on with it; he would put up with anything to have Sherlock.

The second month had been spent introducing Sherlock to official life at the palace and the inner workings of the kingdom. Sherlock sat in with John on meetings with his father, King Gregory, and learned some of the more basic procedural functions of the way the palace worked in their kingdom. Sherlock had always avoided such things in his own kingdom as much as he could; skipping out on protocol lessons and trying to spend as little time with his brother, King Mycroft, as possible. He found the sessions fairly dull now too, though he put up with them all for John’s sake, knowing that it would help to share some of the burden John would be faced with when he became King himself in the future. Sherlock found he loved his new home city too and John took him to all his favourite places. Sherlock also introduced him to several new ones; places that John had never found even after living there his whole life.

The next three months were spent touring the kingdom, staying a day or so in each locale to get to know the villagers and help sort out any disputes – at which John discovered Sherlock was invaluable as he could see through the majority of people and what they had to say and work out instantly who was at fault and what they had done wrong. Then John would step in, being the more diplomatic partner, and sooth any hurt feelings and suggest peaceable solutions.

They worked as a fine team and enjoyed each other’s company and methods. John found he sometimes had to restrain himself when Sherlock was shooting out scorching deductions. He found it the biggest turn on to see Sherlock in action, pacing round the ‘perpetrator’, his eyes narrowed and focused and rattling off his findings at a rapid rate. For his part, Sherlock loved how compassionate John was with everyone. He only had to see that twinkling smile being bestowed on someone and he wanted it to be aimed squarely at himself.

John had also discovered that he had to rein himself in when he heard Sherlock in full deduction mode. He only had to hear that deep baritone and he felt an arrow of desire shoot down to his groin and he had to surreptitiously re-align his trousers to a more comfortable position as he crossed his legs. Unfortunately for John, Sherlock had very quickly picked up on this weakness and he gleefully exploited it at every opportunity. He was somewhat merciful when they were involved in official business, not wanting to embarrass John too deeply. But when he deemed it appropriate – which wasn’t always at the same time that John deemed it appropriate – he would use his voice to its full advantage and deepen his tones even lower than usual and enjoy the visible shiver that went through John on hearing it. If there was any way he could make it so that he was also pressing against John when he spoke he would take every opportunity as the vibrations rumbling through his chest added to the deep timbre and nearly had John on his knees and several times they had had to quickly excuse themselves from a room so that John could have Sherlock instantly.

~*~

All in all John and Sherlock were having a marvellous time and thoroughly enjoying their new life together. By the end of the fifth month they were once more back home in the palace awaiting the rapid onset of the Christmas festivities. John’s parents had decided to hold a big New Year’s Eve masked ball to celebrate what a wonderful year it had been with the marriage of their son and the birth of their second grandchild and to start the New Year off in fine style so there was a lot of preparation going on for that.

On Christmas Eve the boys had supper with the whole family and then they all gathered in the salon to sit around the large, festively decorated tree and each open one present which had been left out especially for that purpose. Harry and Clara’s daughter, Emily, was very excited, being almost two and a half now, and her parents were having to constantly pull her back from the tree as she loved all the sparkly lights and tried to grab them whenever she could. The tree had already had to be reassembled three times and it had now been fastened with wires holding it upright so she couldn’t pull the whole thing over on herself. Their baby son, Samuel, was happy to sit in his grandmother’s arms and chuckle at everyone. When Emily ran to him with his present he was much more interested in grabbing the big sister he adored than taking whatever it was he had been given. When they’d all finished and Emily and Samuel were taken off to bed, John and Sherlock decided to retire too, wanting to have their own celebration.

John had been shooting little glances at Sherlock all evening and Sherlock had noted that his eyes were twinkling. John was showing obvious signs of excitement and anticipation and Sherlock couldn't wait to find out why. They went up to their suite and as soon as they were inside John pushed the door shut and slammed Sherlock up against it, pinning his arms above his head. He held him there with one hand and slid the other one down the side of Sherlock's face. He gently swiped his thumb over Sherlock's lower lip and Sherlock leant forward and sucked it into his mouth, bobbing up and down on it, showing John what he'd rather be doing to other body parts. John groaned and pressed up harder against Sherlock, letting him feel that particular body part in full force.

"Stop distracting me, you tease", John grinned, blinking up at him from beneath his lashes.

"Well, don't be so tempting then; you know I can't resist being able to taste you."

"I have a surprise for you."

Sherlock looked at John with a raised eyebrow as if to say 'obviously' so John carried straight on.

"I didn't know what to get you for Christmas so I got a few of the more traditional options for you to open tomorrow, but I wanted you to have something special too. Go and sit on the bed and try to keep your hands to yourself."

Sherlock walked over to their bed and sat himself on the end with his arms folded tightly across his chest and smiled up at John

It hadn't happened consciously, but somehow recently John had ended up in the top position when they'd had sex. They both enjoyed either position and they had tried out every variation under the sun since their wedding, but Sherlock had recently seemed to favour being filled by John, and John had been only too eager to please. When John realised that he hadn't had Sherlock in him for three whole weeks he decided to save it up and give Sherlock a free pass to do what he liked with him; knowing Sherlock would love having the time and freedom to explore him at his leisure and send him to previously unmeasured heights of pleasure.

Sherlock was looking up at John with an anticipatory flare to his eyebrow so John removed his shoes and socks and turned round with his back to Sherlock to pull down his trousers. On the back of his festive red pants there was a picture of a sprig of mistletoe right in the centre and John looked coyly over his shoulder at his husband when he heard the delighted chuckle.

"Oh John, now that's an invitation I can't refuse."

“Thought you’d like that”, John grinned and then held out his hand as Sherlock started to get up. “Wait ‘til I finish.”

Sherlock sat back down and John started unbuttoning his shirt slowly, peeking at Sherlock over his shoulder as he did so.

“John!” Sherlock practically growled.

“Patience is a virtue, my love.”

“Virtues are boring and you are enjoying this far too much.”

“Well I’ve always thought the joy of presents is in the giving just as much as in the receiving.”

John finishing undoing his shirt and cuffs and just as he let it slide to the floor he spun round and presented Sherlock with a full view of what he had been hiding. He had tied a thick red ribbon around his chest with a big bow and a large white label hanging down in the middle with big writing saying ‘Property of Sherlock’ and in smaller letters underneath ‘To be used as you will for your own personal pleasure’.

Sherlock’s mouth had fallen open as he just stared at John. John held his arms out, “Don’t you want to open your present?”

Sherlock was off the bed and in front of him before John had even realised he’d moved, running his fingers lightly over the bow across John’s chest.

“Oh John, you’ve found the perfect gift, it's just what I’ve always wanted,” he grinned. “How on earth did you tie that by yourself?”

“It took a few tries I can tell you, I had to get the ribbon and the bow to both lie flat so that they wouldn’t be visible under my shirt and then I had to carefully tuck the label underneath so it didn’t get creased when I sat down. I was sure you would hear me crinkling or something would give me away.”

“Very sneaky. I can see I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on you.”

“Sherlock, you couldn’t see anything more if you tried. You have the closest eye of anyone I’ve ever known.”

“Not close enough though, John, if I missed this.” Sherlock slid his fingers along the ribbon and circled John’s nipples through the material, feeling them rise instantly to his touch. “So does this mean you are mine for the entire night? I can do whatever I want and you can’t do anything to stop me?”

“I’m yours for our entire lives, Sherlock,” John smiled fondly at him. “But yes, for tonight you can have me in any way you want me.”

“So many choices… and I want to do all of them.” Sherlock grinned wickedly down at John, “But first, I think I ought to unwrap my present, don’t you.”

John swallowed audibly, “Oh God, yes.”

Sherlock tucked a strand of hair behind John’s ear and trailed his finger down the side of his neck causing John to extend it, allowing better access. Sherlock slowly walked around him, sliding his finger along John’s right collarbone and over his shoulder and then dipping it down over each notch of his spine, just pausing at the top of John’s pants. He traced the shape of the mistletoe then pulled the material down in the middle and bent to kiss each cheek before sliding his tongue along the top of the crack and all the way back up the spine to the nape of John’s neck. Sherlock bit gently into the skin, not breaking the surface with his teeth though he followed it up with a deep love bite on the same spot, needing to stake his claim and mark what was his.

John shivered and relaxed back against Sherlock revelling in the attention from his lover. Sherlock’s arms came up around him and he held John close to him as he alternately kissed and nibbled his way round to the side of John’s neck, drawing a low groan from him as he caught hold of John’s ear lobe with his teeth. Sherlock kissed his way down to the junction of neck and shoulder leaving a trail of bites in his wake then moved to the other side of John’s neck and did the same thing again, circling John to give him the best access. It seemed he was determined to let everyone see just what he had been given for Christmas.

Sherlock reached around under John’s arms, took hold of the ends of the ribbon and gently pulled them apart, looking down over John’s shoulder to see his body as it was revealed. John’s nipples were hard little buds and as Sherlock looked down further he could see the front sprig of mistletoe standing proudly out from John’s body as his erection tented the material. Sherlock draped the ribbon around John’s neck, already planning other things he would like to do with it and circled round to the front, making sure to cup John's arse on his way past.

He bent down and kissed the tip of John’s cock, right over the mistletoe, then pulled the red material down and did it again, enjoying the way John groaned and reflexively jumped as he touched the flesh. Sherlock pulled John’s pants off and stood back to look at his present fully unwrapped.

“By far the nicest present I’ve ever opened and the best thing is it’s the gift that keeps on giving,” Sherlock smiled down at John. He crooked his index finger and gestured for John to come towards him and, when he could reach, Sherlock took hold of the two ends of the ribbon and used them to pull John to the bed. John climbed on and shuffled up to the top, his head on the pillows. He looked over at Sherlock, wondering what exactly he was going to do next.

Sherlock didn't leave him waiting for long. He looped the ribbon and tied it in a knot. Catching John's hands in it, he pulled them up and tied them to the headboard. John shivered in anticipation, this was actually something they hadn't tried before and he was very much looking forward to seeing how it played out.

Sherlock suddenly jumped off the bed and went into their sitting area leaving John staring after him feeling abandoned. He could hear a lot of rustling coming from the other room, but there was no sign of Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, "You're not going to leave me here are you. This wasn't what I thought you had in mind."

Sherlock chuckled from the other room. "Patience, John, I'll be back in a moment, I'm just looking for something. Aha!" Sherlock walked back in with his left arm behind his back.

"Sherlock, what do you have there?"

"Hmm, oh just something I wanted to try." Sherlock climbed back on the bed and straddled John's hips, locking his legs in position. He smiled down at John and brought his hand into view holding onto a long golden eagle feather.

"No, nuh-uh, no way, Sherlock. You are not using that on me."

"I fail to see how exactly you are going to stop me, John," Sherlock grinned.

John tried to rock his pelvis up to throw Sherlock off, but Sherlock pulled his thighs close together and held on to John's hips tightly, not allowing him to move. John tried to pull his arms out but Sherlock had tied him too securely. He had nowhere to go. He shook his head at Sherlock trying to stop him with the only body part he could freely move, but to no avail.

Sherlock held the quill end and reached up to brush the tip across John's brow, down his right cheek and trailed it across John's lower lip, all of which John managed to cope with, thinking that maybe it wouldn't be too bad. From there the feather went down the side of John's neck, over towards his shoulder and because his arms were tied above his head the feather progressed up the underside of his raised arm. This he definitely couldn't cope with. He started wriggling as much as he was able in his restrained state, shouting at Sherlock to stop and involuntarily laughing as the motion of the feather turned into pure tickling.

"No, Sherlock, no tickling. Tickling's not allowed. Anything else, but not that please." John was almost crying between the laughs now as Sherlock let the feather have full range up and down John's arm and right into his armpit before transferring over to do the same to the other arm. On the way down this time, however, he didn't stop and went all the way down John's side as far as his hips and as John responded so nicely, Sherlock did the same down his other side too.

Sherlock relented slightly after a while and let John's arms and sides alone, knowing they were the most ticklish parts except for the feet and even he wasn't cruel enough to attack John's feet.

He took the feather back up to John’s face and traced it along his left eyebrow but this time he followed it along by kissing the trail he had just made. He did that all over John’s face and continued on down his neck, spending longer there nibbling as well as kissing and adding to the general pattern he had left earlier. By the time he’d moved down to John’s chest and was biting his nipples all traces of laughter had left John and he was getting more and more aroused at being completely at Sherlock’s mercy.

Sherlock shuffled down John’s body and put the feather to work again as he traced it along John’s inner thigh, brushed it across his sac and straight up the length of his shaft to play in the slit at the top. John didn’t mind this though because, again, Sherlock followed the trail, first with his tongue and then with his lips and when he reached the top he deep throated John right to the base of his cock and swallowed around it. John almost came immediately and would have done except that Sherlock moved his lips up the shaft slightly and tightly circled the base with his fingers stopping him just at the peak.

John groaned and was shaking with his almost-completion as Sherlock slid his lips up the shaft and came off the top with a pop almost like he’d been sucking a lolly. He smiled down at the look on John’s face.

“We don’t want the fun to be over too quickly, do we, John.”

“I don’t quite know who the ‘we’ is in that statement; I know that I would certainly have liked it.”

“Oh I think we can get you almost there a few more times yet.” Sherlock laughed as John groaned again.

“Whose stupid idea was it to put you in charge?”

Sherlock lifted himself on to one side and gestured for John to turn over which he managed carefully with his arms still tied above him then Sherlock settled down on his upper thighs again, making sure that John’s cock wasn’t being bent to the side in its new position. John was making the most of his new position, however, to rub it against the sheet underneath him, trying to get a bit of extra friction. Sherlock smacked his arse right in the middle of his left cheek to get his attention. John froze, moaned deeply and relaxed himself back down onto the bed.

Sherlock made note of the reaction, definitely planning on trying that again later. He kissed John’s neck just behind his ear and then took the lobe into his mouth and bit it gently. John tilted his head to allow him more access and Sherlock left a trail of love bites across the whole of John’s neck, filling in any parts he had missed earlier; he did like to be consistent he thought to himself as he admired his handiwork.

Sherlock kissed his way down John’s back, pausing at each vertebra to show them equal attention before moving to the next one. John was twitching again as the heat built up in his lower body and he tried again to get some meaningful contact against his cock. Sherlock lifted his head and brought his hand back down twice against John’s arse, leaving a bright red mark on either cheek. He ignored the way John jumped and carried on as if nothing had happened and went back to the vertebra he had just left and continued working his way down.

When he got to the base Sherlock picked up the feather again and dragged it down the whole length of John’s spine, right along the curve of his arse and then curled it around under each cheek. He traced the shape of each red mark John had acquired, revelling in the way John moaned and writhed under him.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got the idea that your cock is only for me to touch, John, not for you to rub yourself against anything that happens to be available. So I have to wonder whether you want me to stop or if you’re trying to get me to discipline you again, because I have to tell you right now it could go either way.”

“Oh don’t stop, please.”

“Are you going to keep still?”

“I’m trying. You’re driving me mad here.”

Sherlock chuckled then he raised John’s hips slightly to place his arse in a better position for access and incidentally to remove temptation for John at the same time. Sherlock had one more task for his feather before he put it aside and he used it to stroke down the crease between John’s arse cheeks, right down as far as his balls which he traced around before coming back up and gently stroking around John’s hole. John shuddered at the sensations and as Sherlock had stopped him from rubbing against anything this time he just moaned Sherlock’s name.

“Did you want something, John?”

“You know I do. Why are you torturing me?”

“Because I can. Aren’t you enjoying yourself? If there’s anything you want me to do you only have to ask.”

“Please... Please touch me.”

“Of course, John.” Sherlock circled John’s hole again with the feather and kept it up as he reached his arm around to stroke John’s shaft.

“Ahhh… yes, that’s it,” John sighed as he enjoyed the pleasure he was getting both back and front. Just as he was starting to feel that he was going to come again, though, Sherlock once more stopped what he was doing, keeping John just on the edge.

“Sherlock! No, not again. Please.”

“Do you really want it all to be over now, John. If you want me to stop it all here and let you come I will.”

John knew Sherlock would let him come if he asked for it and he was desperate for release, but he had said that tonight was all about Sherlock and he couldn’t take his fun away from him, much as it was driving him nuts hovering on the edge like this.

“No. I… Carry on.”

Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John hard on the mouth as he smiled at him, taking in his sweaty face and desperate eyes.

“It’ll be worth it John, honestly, not much longer. You’re doing brilliantly.”

“You’re brilliant, you nutter.”

Sherlock kissed him again and then went back and settled himself between John’s legs. He licked his way from the top of John’s arse crease all the way down to the bottom and then blew along it, making John shiver. Sherlock circled the hole with his tongue, pushed the tip in and felt John quiver around it. Sherlock worked the hole with his tongue for a while and when he had got it loosened up enough he got the oil and lubed his fingers for a deeper reach, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer himself, never mind John who had been kept on the edge all this time.

Sherlock opened John up quickly now, no longer able to wait even though he had planned on teasing John’s prostate and driving him to his limits again before he entered him. The sounds coming from John were just too desperate and it was spurring him on and he knew he had to be inside John now.

Sherlock really wanted to see John as he came so he quickly, but carefully, turned him over as John wasn’t really in a coherent state to do it himself. Sherlock lubed his cock and lifting John’s legs around his waist he pushed himself all the way in and paused there for a moment as he and John both sighed in pleasure.

“Please, Sherlock. I can’t… just… please.”

“I know, John, me too.”

Sherlock drew almost completely out then slid back in again a few times slowly, but found even that wasn’t enough, he needed to come right now so he started slamming in to John as hard and fast as he could, rubbing over John’s prostate with every stroke. John’s head was whipping from side to side as he alternated between deep groans and muttering parts of Sherlock’s name, not quite able to verbalise the whole thing.

Sherlock was punctuating each push with a cry of “John… John… John”. As John let out a shout and came as hard as he thought he ever had in his life, Sherlock felt the internal convulsions around his shaft and came a few seconds later, pulsing inside of John before collapsing down on top of him. He didn’t even have enough energy left to roll off and allow John proper space to breathe. Not that John cared at that stage - who needed to breathe anyway!

When they eventually came back to themselves Sherlock gently pulled out of John and rolled on to his back, collapsing down again. He turned his head which was about as much effort as he could make.

“Best. Present. Ever.”

“Tell me again… when I’m conscious!”

Sherlock laughed and reached his hand down to take John’s and they fell asleep like that. They woke up on Christmas morning not having moved an inch; they had exhausted themselves so much.

~*~

New Year's Eve arrived and everyone was preparing for the Masked Ball. It wasn't quite on the scale of John's three Coming Of Age Balls, but not far off. Everyone was going to be fully costumed and masked until midnight and then unmask themselves as the New Year arrived. John and Sherlock had decided to keep their costumes secret from each other as a surprise and Sherlock had been doing his best not to deduce what John had decided to be, though he had narrowed it down to three choices without even thinking. John had kept his costume stored in his parents' suite of rooms, being the one place he thought Sherlock was unlikely to trespass and he was going to get changed there later before he joined Sherlock at the party.

Sherlock and John spent the day together, wandering around watching all the preparations.

"Well this is a definite improvement on the last parties we had here. I was so nervous before those, well, certainly before the first one. The second one had me in a state of excited anticipation, if I recall correctly,” he smiled, “with a healthy dose of worrying that you might get caught mixed in.”

“Oh ye of little faith. As if I’d have let anything stop me from coming to see you again.”

“Well I didn’t know then how dedicated you can be when you put your mind to something, did I,” John grinned at him. “I do remember that arbour very fondly. I certainly spent long enough there in all the time afterwards when I was waiting for you. It made me feel closer to you somehow even though we were there for such a short time.”

“Funny you should say that, John.” Sherlock gestured to their surroundings.

John hadn’t been paying attention to where they had been walking; he had been too busy looking at Sherlock and not caring where he went as long as he was with him. When he looked round he saw that they were by the glass doors that led out to the arbour through which he had run to reach Sherlock on the night of the second party.

“Shall we?”

“Oh definitely. Together this time.”

Sherlock took John’s hand and they ran across the grass to the arbour and collapsed against their tree, laughing. When they’d got their breath back John reached his hand to stroke down the side of Sherlock’s face and slide round to his nape and he pulled Sherlock down, kissing him deeply and they were soon both oblivious to their surroundings.

When they heard the voices of two of the gardeners walking past they quickly ducked out of sight, shushing each other and chuckling quietly. They decided not to cause a public scene on party day and went back to their rooms to finish off before they separated to get changed into their costumes alone.

~*~

John had decided on a soldier’s costume for this evening and he had the full regalia on plus a rifle he had borrowed from the guards, empty of bullets, of course. He had opted for a half face mask which covered his eyes and nose but left his mouth clear, he definitely wanted to be able to kiss Sherlock whenever he wished to during the evening and he hoped Sherlock had done the same.

John made his way down to the ballroom. Luckily he didn’t have to wait outside to be presented to everyone this time and he could just go inside and mingle and try to find his love. He had narrowed down his guesses to a huntsman or a pirate and picturing either of those tight, fitted costumes on Sherlock was a delight in itself and he couldn’t wait to see him.

He had just made his second slow circuit of the ballroom without seeing any sign of Sherlock and was wondering whether to go up to their rooms to see where he was when a page came over to him.

“Excuse me, Sir, there is a pirate in the arbour who has requested that you meet him there.”

“Oh right,” John smiled – pirate, he’d been right. “Thank you,” and he cut out through the garden doors which were open and headed round to meet Sherlock. When he got there he saw a tall, dark figure silhouetted in the trees and called out to him.

“Twice in one day, my love, people will talk.”

The man turned to face him and John saw gratefully that he only had a half mask on too, though the bottom half of his face and hair were hidden by the shadow of his wide brimmed hat.

“I guessed you’d be a pirate. You are perfectly suited for that piratical joie de vivre and full of the knowledge that whatever you want you get. Not that I’m going to stop you anyway, of course, I’m more than happy to give you what you want. In fact, maybe we could finish what we started out here earlier now that the darkness will provide a cover for us.”

John walked up to his pirate and pulled him down into a kiss. The pirate seemed almost to freeze for a moment as though he was shocked by John’s actions and then he grabbed on tightly to John’s head and kissed him back, pushing his tongue roughly into John’s mouth and swirling it round in a totally new manner than he usually used. John never minded when Sherlock wanted to try new things, but this just felt like an invasion almost and the way John’s head was held immovably wasn’t the usual way Sherlock preferred either.

John went along with it for a while, thinking that maybe Sherlock was just getting into his piratical role a bit too enthusiastically and taking what he wanted, but when John tried to pull back and Sherlock gripped his head and pulled him back really hard he knew something wasn’t right. He tried pushing against the pirate to stop him but when he pressed on his chest he felt the strong, thick pectoral muscles under the silk shirt and knew this wasn’t Sherlock. Sherlock was deceptively strong but his body wasn’t thick at all, he had more of a lithe, graceful physique, nothing like the hard definition that John could feel under his fingers.

He struck out and punched the intruder’s stomach, but apart from a sharp intake of breath it didn’t seem to slow him down at all. John swung his arm up and caught the man on the top of his nose, hearing a crack. The man’s head snapped back causing a spray of blood to land on John, but as quickly as he was hit he soon responded and the hands which had been holding John’s head spun him around and one of them went round his neck. John’s head was held in the crook of the attacker’s elbow whilst he started squeezing.

John tried to force his head back to smash into the other man’s face but it was being held too tightly. He kicked his legs about, one of them landing a solid kick on the intruder’s knee and even though it made him buckle slightly to that side he managed to keep standing and didn’t relax any of the pressure on John’s neck. What did he have to do to affect this man?

John kept fighting, kicking out at anything he could reach but it was obvious that he was weakening now. The man just held on until John slumped in his grip and lost consciousness then he slung him up on his shoulder and limped his way off to the place on the back wall where he had left the rope he had used to climb over. The man tied John to the rope then climbed up it and sat on the top of the wall with one leg on either side to brace himself as he pulled John up and then let him drop none too gently down the other side. John landed heavily on his left ankle and banged his head as he fell backwards.

The man slid down the rope then unhooked it. He used it to tie John securely at wrists and ankles then he slung him, first over his shoulder as he walked into the forest, and then over the back of the horse he had tied up there and rode away.

~*~

Sherlock had taken longer to get ready than he’d anticipated. When he’d put his skin-tight breeches on they’d split along the in-seam which he knew John would find hugely amusing and he’d had to call the seamstress in to practically sew him in to his trousers before he could go down to the party.

When he eventually got down to the ballroom he scanned the crowd for John, sure that whatever costume John had picked to disguise himself, Sherlock would still be able to spot him instantly. By his third tour around he was starting to doubt his skills. They hadn’t arranged where they were going to meet but he knew John would be looking out for him so he wouldn’t have gone far, but he couldn’t see any sign of him.

Sherlock saw his father-in-law, King Gregory, standing near the window in his costume so he went over to see if he had seen John.

“Excuse me, your Majesty, I just wondered if you’d seen your son yet this evening?”

“Sherlock, is that you? How did you know it was me, I thought I was quite cleverly disguised.”

“I’m sure to most of the populace you would, in fact, appear to be a simple chef as your costume depicts, but surely you know that to me there are subtle signs and signals that a person cannot hide. Your poise and bearing are far more erect than would be the norm and you do it so casually and naturally so it is something that is obviously ingrained in you that you no longer even think about it. Plus I noticed that you keep stroking your right index finger as if something is missing which is, of course, where your royal insignia sits. I congratulate you on going without it for the thoroughness of your costume, you obviously wanted to mix with the people for the party to see how it feels to be 'ordinary' for want of a better word. How has that been working out for you?"

"That’s amazing, Sherlock, you’re just as good as John always says." Sherlock can hear the smile in the King's voice even though he can't see his face below the full face mask he's wearing. "I'm quite enjoying myself. Everyone is always so right and proper around me that it's nice to just chat normally for once."

"I'm glad you are enjoying yourself. It is quite a rare treat to step outside yourself. Now, have you seen my soldier recently?"

"How did you know he was dressed as a soldier? He told me he was keeping it a secret from you, that was why he was getting changed in our rooms so you wouldn't see him."

"It was an obvious deduction based on John's preferences and his fascination with military regalia and weaponry. What time did he leave your rooms?"

"He came down not long before Molly and I did and I saw him wandering round the ballroom about an hour ago, presumably looking for you. I think I remember seeing him talking to one of the pages at one point, but I don't think I've noticed him since then."

"Thank you, I'll have another look around. If you see him will you tell him I'm looking for him please?"

"Of course, Sherlock, I'm sure you'll catch up with him soon.”

“I hope so,” Sherlock smiled and then headed off into the crowd, leaving the King to mingle amongst his unsuspecting subjects.

Sherlock headed off for another tour of the ballroom just to check there was no sign of John before he found one of the pages and asked if anyone had been speaking to a blonde soldier. He worked his way through four pages before he found someone who knew what he was talking about.

"Oh that must have been Dennis, Sir, I saw him speaking to a soldier earlier, I think he got called back to help in the dining hall. He has dark hair and a long, thin nose, Sir, you can't miss him."

"Thank you."

Sherlock went into the dining room and did indeed quickly find the page he had been directed to see.

"Dennis, I hear you were talking to a soldier earlier. Blonde?"

"Yes Sir, I was asked to seek him out by a guest in a pirate costume, rather tall, a bit like you actually. Well he gave me a message to ask the soldier to meet him in the arbour; the soldier smiled and dashed out to the garden."

"Can you remember anything else about this man?"

"Not really, he was masked and dressed as a pirate, sir. He had a wide brimmed hat and a white shirt, I believe."

Sherlock nodded his thanks to Dennis and quickly headed out to the arbour, starting to get worried now. John had obviously assumed the pirate was Sherlock, especially as he was asked to meet him in their special place, and he hadn't been seen again since he'd gone out there alone to meet this mysterious man.

He reached the arbour and looked around and even in the shadows he could see the signs of a struggle. There were bent and snapped branches on the bushes in front of him and he saw that there was blood sprayed around the base of the nearest tree and his heart sank as he thought about what could have happened to John. He could see the imprints of two different sets of footprints in the soil so at least there was only one assailant, but he must have been strong as well as tall, to have done anything with John who had a deceptive strength of his own.

Sherlock looked round to see where the footprints led and was unable to find any of John's heading away from where the fight had happened so he guessed that John must have been carried off somehow. The other set of footprints led away to the rear of the garden towards the wall. He stopped himself from thinking that anything worse might have happened to John, if he were dead the man would surely have just left him where he lay, he wouldn't have bothered carrying him away.

He followed the footprints all the way to the wall and found the place where the man had climbed over. There was a flattened area of grass where something had been put down whilst the man had most probably used a rope or something similar to get him over. Sherlock couldn’t climb up himself as the wall was too high so he had to run all the way round to the West Gate entrance. He had thrown off his hat and mask whilst he’d been in the arbour so the guards had no trouble recognising him straight away and allowed him to pass through.

Sherlock made his way stealthily round to the opposite side of the wall from where he had been standing. He didn’t run this time just in case the intruder was still around. Sherlock moved into the tree cover as he neared the incursion site, he didn’t want to give away any advantage if there was anyone in the vicinity. He stood quietly for a few minutes scanning the surrounding area but there was no sign of movement so he edged closer to the wall to find the tracks.

He found the same set of footprints, but again there was still only one set so John was clearly not mobile. At the base of the wall the grass was again flattened, more heavily on this side so John had obviously been dropped with little care. He could see a deep side-on heel impression in the mud which could indicate that John’s foot had twisted on impact suggesting injury there. There also looked to be a bit of blood on a rock next to a clearly defined indent in a position corresponding to where John’s head would have landed. He was thankful that John had been lucky not to land with his head fully on the rock instead of just catching it with a glancing blow as he must have done but it meant they were probably dealing with head injury and possible concussion too. Whoever had taken John was going to pay severely for any pain they caused him and the tally was mounting up already.

Sherlock followed the trail of footprints to a clearing hidden amongst the trees and his heart sank as he saw the hoof prints. Even carrying two people the horse would have been able to cover a lot of ground and put more distance between him and John. Sherlock lifted his head and straightened his shoulders and looked in to the distance in the direction they had gone. He turned and ran back towards the gate to get his horse and gather supplies. Whoever it was that had taken John, they wouldn’t get away with this.

He ran back to the wall and circled round again through the gate and back in towards the palace. He skirted the people hanging around the doors of the brightly lit ballroom and made straight for the stables at the opposite side of the buildings. He started saddling his horse and as he was fastening the straps two guards came in and asked him to accompany them back to see the King.

"I don't have time right now."

"I'm sorry, your Highness, but his Majesty has asked for your presence so we have to take you to see him."

"Oh for goodness sake, they'll be getting away. Tell the King that I'll fill him in later."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. His Majesty has asked to see you now if you'll just come with us please."

The guards gestured towards the palace and obviously weren't going to let Sherlock go without seeing the King. Sherlock scowled and threw his arms up in the air then marched off into the palace leaving the guards chasing to keep up with him.

"Sherlock, what's going on? Where's John, I haven't seen him all evening?"

"I was just leaving to find out. I really don't have time to waste."

"Leaving? Why are you leaving, what's happened?"

"John has been taken. I've followed the trail as far as the woods and now I need to see where it leads."

"Taken! Bloody hell! Tell me everything, now."

"I need to go before the trail gets destroyed."

"You have time for this; now explain what you've found."

"After I spoke with you earlier I went to find the page you mentioned and when I tracked him down he said that he had been asked to send John into the arbour to meet a pirate there. John went out, obviously thinking it was me and got into a fight with the interloper. I found some blood," Sherlock held up his hand as Greg gasped at that. "It wasn't a large amount and might not even have been John's. John must have been knocked unconscious though as there was only one set of footprints leaving the arbour and the man must have used a rope to get John over the wall. He had a horse waiting in the forest and he must have had John tied on to the back of it as there was only one set of hoof prints riding away so he was alone. Now you know everything and I really do need to get back to the trail before I lose it."

"Let me get my horse saddled up, I'm coming with you." Greg turned to Anderson, his personal assistant, to ask him to get his horse ready and to call a dozen of his guards too.

"You're hosting a party, your Majesty, don't you need to see to your guests." Anderson asked as he sent a page to the stable to prepare the King's horse and those of his royal guard.

"Nothing is more important than my son, Anderson. Molly can see to everyone, they won't even notice I've gone.”

“Of course, at once, Sire.” Anderson hurried off to do Greg’s bidding and Greg turned back to Sherlock.

“So what’s going on then? Why has this happened?”

“I don’t know at this stage. It could be a ransom demand against you or it could be someone that we’ve upset, though I don’t see how John could upset anyone, he’s just so likeable. Now if it was me that would make more sense. Why didn’t they take me, why take John, he’s everything.”

“Don’t go blaming yourself now. We’ll get him back. Come on, let’s go and get our horses, the quicker we get on the trail the quicker we’ll find him.”

“Stupid! Concentrate,” Sherlock banged his fists against his head. “Sentiment; with John it’s always sentiment. I can distance myself from everything else, but he’s inside me. I can’t lose him; I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“It’s ok, Sherlock, we’ll find him.” Greg hugged him; something Sherlock never remembered his own father doing in the short time he’d known him. His father had died when Sherlock was 6 and Mycroft 13. Sherlock had had little to do with his very busy father and after having his brother more or less to himself for his first 6 years it had been a bit of a shock when Mycroft had been made King and become every bit as remote as their father had been. A whole host of governesses would attest to the fact that Sherlock had been impossible to deal with as he had gradually worked his way through them and there had been a marked lack of affection amongst them.

After the initial surprise of being touched - it was not something he usually allowed or enjoyed other than with John, of course – he found himself leaning in to Greg, resting his head briefly on his shoulder and putting his own arms around Greg and hugging back. Greg held him there awhile, allowing him to draw comfort until he felt Sherlock gather himself together and step back, ready to face what might be ahead.

“When John married you, Sherlock, you became part of our family. I consider you a son every bit as much as I do John. If you ever need anything I am always here for you.”

“Thank you. I… I don’t know what to say.”

“I said for you to call me ‘Father’ as John does if you wanted to, unless it makes you feel uncomfortable, Sherlock.”

“Thank you… Father. I never really had much contact with my own father and I don’t remember a lot about him. I think I would have liked having you around when I was growing up. It might have changed a few things. You certainly did a good job with John.”

Greg smiled back at Sherlock. “He didn’t turn out too badly, did he. Now what say we get him back.” Sherlock nodded at him, the tender moment gone and the urgency returning as they left to get their horses.

They rode out to where Sherlock had found the hoof prints and then followed the trail, first slowly through the trees where it was hard to see in the dark shadows and then, when they got into open country, they were able to pick up speed and hopefully make up lost ground.

They eventually reached a wide stream but even at its mid point it only came to ankle height on the horses so they ploughed right through and picked up the trail on the far bank. They rode on for another few hours and the sky was lightening as it edged towards morning. In the distance they saw a small town and hoped to see if their mysterious assailant had maybe stopped whilst they rested the horses for a short while.

As they approached they saw the livery stables on their right with a light on in the side window. Sherlock quickly jumped off his horse and made his way in, calling out to see if there was anyone about.

“Have you had a man in here in the last few hours to see to his horse?” Sherlock asked the owner.

“Well yes, it was most unusual at that time of night, a young fellow came banging on the door, waking me up and asked to stable his horse and then he was going to get a room at the hostelry in the centre of town.”

“Did he have another man with him, perhaps injured?”

“No he rode in alone with just his bag on his back. No-one else was with him.”

“There was no-one at all? What was he wearing?”

“Just a brown jerkin, trousers and riding boots; same as most folks around here wear.”

“Not black trousers and a white shirt with a sort of piratical look then?”

“No, definitely not anything like that. It doesn’t sound as if he’s the fellow you’re looking for, but as I said, he’s probably taken a room in the hostel if you want to speak to him.”

“Yes, I’ll do that, thank you.”

Sherlock went back outside and told Greg what the livery owner had said. “I don’t understand it. I didn’t see any veering off the trail, there weren’t any signs of him stopping on the outskirts to leave John outside whilst he came in, the tracks just led here in a straight line. What can he have done with John?”

“Let’s go and find this man and see what he has to say for himself.”

Greg dismounted along with two of his guards and the four of them walked down the main street to the hostel. The innkeeper was obviously up early getting everything ready for the day and quickly came to the door. When he recognised the King he soon told them that he had indeed had a guest booking in earlier that morning and he was still up in his room and he directed them where to go.

Sherlock again took the lead when they got up to the room, Greg understanding that this was something Sherlock needed to do. They hammered on the door and Sherlock knew instantly that the man who opened it was not the person who had taken John from the garden. He was only average height and a stockier build and there was no way that the palace page could have thought this man looked a little like Sherlock when he'd told John that a tall pirate wished to see him in the arbour. Plus Sherlock could see the clothes on the chair next to the bed and they were brown as the owner of the livery had said and nothing like the dashing black trousers and white shirt which had been described to him.

"What's going on, why are you waking me at this time in a morning?"

"Have you just come into town from the East in the last few hours?"

"Well, yes I have, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"Did you see a man riding in this same direction carrying another man behind him?"

"No, nothing of the sort, of course not, why would I?"

"You're lying. Now why don't you just save us all the time and trouble and give us the truth before I ask these guards to make you."

The man looked over at the guards who straightened up and leaned forwards, theirs hands resting on the hilts of their swords menacingly. Then he looked back up at the expression on Sherlock's face and he deflated quickly, knowing he wouldn't be able to get away with this.

"Ok, yes I saw the man you're talking about. I was given instructions to first go to a certain farrier and have my horse re-shod and pick up some weighted saddle bags then I had to ride to that specific river crossing to the East of here and go about half a mile upstream from it and then ride down the centre of the stream and wait in the middle of the current until a man came and then he would pay me and I was free to go. I wasn't going to turn down a hefty sum of money just for going for a little ride on my horse. When I saw the man he did have someone else tied up across the back of his horse. The man gave me my money and told me to ride this way for a few hours and then I could please myself where I went so that's what I did. That's everything I swear."

"What else can you tell me about the other man over the back of the horse?"

"Not much. I told you he was tied up and I didn't see him move. It looked like he had a cut or something on his forehead, I could see the blood that had dripped down his face, but I couldn't see anything else."

"He's telling the truth this time. He was just following orders.” Sherlock told Greg, then turned back to the man. “What about the person who gave you the message in the first place?"

"It was a young boy who came up to me just as I rode into the town two days ride East of here. He gave me the message and gave me a coin in advance and told me I'd be paid properly by the man I met. I thought at first it was just a joke but I had nothing better to do so I thought why not. Even the chance of a reward was better than nothing."

Sherlock turned away in disgust. They weren't going to get anything else out of this man and meanwhile they had lost the trail and John was getting further and further away from him.

~*~

The first thing that John felt was water splashing on his face. Then he registered a regular bouncing motion under his stomach. He could hear water, was he on a boat? He couldn’t lift his arm to wipe the water off his face. His head hurt and his right eye was sticky and didn’t want to open properly. His leg was hurting but he couldn’t move that either. He blinked rapidly with his left eye, trying to get it to focus. There was brown right next to his face and he could see long brown hair flicking in front of him too. He carefully turned his head enough to look down and saw legs splashing through water. A horse; he was on a horse; lying upside down over the back of a horse, in fact.

Why was he lying over a horse and not riding it? Why couldn’t he move his arms and legs and why did they hurt? Why wouldn’t his other eye open and why was his head pounding? Where was Sherlock? Sherlock! The thought of his husband seemed to revive him slightly; he straightened his legs and tried to lift them. He had to find Sherlock. He would know what was going on. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here? Maybe he was here but John just couldn’t see him. He opened his mouth to shout Sherlock’s name but all that came out was a low croak.

“Oh, hello. Back with us are you. Just hold tight there, Johnny boy, we’ve got a way to go yet.” With that he reached back with his riding crop and brought it down on the side of John’s already delicate head and he was out like a light.

~*~

Sherlock and Greg rode back out of town as far as the crossing from where they had followed the trail as it came out of the wide stream. There had been several other people using the road now that the morning was advancing so it was harder to see a clear hoof imprint but Sherlock got down off his horse and examined the lowest print carefully then he walked across the stream and looked at the ones on the other bank.

"Stupid! Should have looked more clearly. Making assumptions and not paying attention."

"Sherlock, what is it, what have you seen?"

"There is a 20% variation in the angle of the nail on the rear left shoe imprint from the hooves on this side of the stream to the ones coming out that side. I should have been observing more closely and I would have seen that and not wasted all that time following a false trail and losing track of John."

"20% on one nail on one shoe, Sherlock, no-one would have noticed that, don't beat yourself up about it."

"I should have noticed. That's what I do.” Sherlock frowned, then his brow cleared, he was finally thinking logically again. “That’s what I do!” he repeated. He looked up at Greg. “Someone must have known I would be the one following the trail and would spot something as obvious as different shoeing patterns, otherwise why make the man have his horse re-shod to exactly match those of our kidnapper and carry weighted saddlebags to ensure the same depth of indent. Then why make him ride down the centre of the current so that there was only one set of hoof prints on either bank of the stream so that we would just assume the man entered on this side and left over there and nothing else was amiss when what he obviously did was send the man we spoke to out of the stream into the other town to lay down a false trail whilst the kidnapper could ride upstream through the current himself and leave the river at any place he chose and not have us any the wiser that two horses had met and crossed."

“So, it’s not just a simple ransom for my kingdom? We’re dealing with someone who knows you then, knows how clever you are, how you work. Is there someone who has a grudge against you?”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of people who resent me, I’m not exactly personable, but someone who hates me enough to kidnap my husband? I don’t know. We can think about that later. Right now we need to find the proper trail. Split the men into four groups and we’ll ride up and down through the stream, half near each bank until we can find where John and his kidnapper left the trail.”

“Ok that’s a good idea. You three go downstream on the left bank and you three on the right, then we’ll go upstream with the rest of you, Sherlock you take these two on the left bank and I’ll take the other two on the right. How far do you think we should go in either direction?”

“Well I’m assuming if he told the man we spoke to to go upstream about half a mile before walking down in the current then he might well have done the same but we’ll go a full mile just to be sure then we’ll meet back here and compare notes.”

“Keep your eyes peeled everyone, we can’t miss anything, this is my son we’re talking about.”

“Of course, Sire.” The guards all agreed and set off along their assigned paths with Greg and Sherlock leading the way within their own groups.

~*~

The next time John woke was when he was being transferred from the back of the horse on to a mount of his own. He was fastened in to a special saddle which it seemed would hold him upright so he couldn’t slip off and it held his legs out to the side so he couldn’t control the horse with his knees. His hands were tied around the pommel so there was no way he could influence the horse at all and the reins were firmly held by the man on the other horse. His head was throbbing and he felt dizzy and sick and his leg hurt too. He tried to shake his head to clear it, but that made him feel even worse so he quickly stopped and looked across to his kidnapper.

“If you can stay awake this time you might be able to hold yourself up a bit more comfortably, but if you pass out I don’t intend to stop so you’re in for the long haul.”

“Why…” John had to lick his lips and swallow a few times to get his voice to work, “Why are you doing this?”

“You’ll find out.” The man sneered at him, “Now shut up or I’ll make you. Let’s go. Hold on tight; as if you could do anything else.” Saying that he pulled on the reins of his horse, digging his heels deeply in to its flanks and setting off at a fast pace, pulling John along behind him, whether he wanted to go or not. He swayed heavily in the seat at the starting motion, but the saddle kept him upright and he did his best to roll with the horse’s gait to lessen the shock of impact at every stride and the pain that throbbed through his leg and head.

~*~

Sherlock, Greg and the guards splashed their way along the edges of the stream, all keeping their eyes on the banks to see if there were any hoof prints leading into the water. Most people tended to keep to the main thoroughfares so they were hopeful that if they did find something then it would be the tracks they were looking for from either of the men they were following. They have been riding slowly up for quite a while when Greg shouted that he had seen something. Sherlock came straight over and jumped down to examine the tracks.

"No, there is a completely different edge on this shoe, and look, the identical tracks lead back and away in the same direction so not our guy. Must just be someone who'd stopped to water his horse. Keep looking."

They went back to it and this time it was Sherlock who shouted. He dismounted and went to the edge to examine the prints.

"This is it. This is the print of the man we talked to. This is where he entered the stream to walk down to where he met the kidnapper. If you were to follow the tracks off into the distance you would find the town he came from. There’s no sign of the kidnappers hoof prints here though. Damn!"

"Let's keep going then; we can go a bit further up before we turn back."

They set off again, feeling a bit disheartened. After they had gone well over a mile they eventually came to another crossing point and everyone dismounted to examine the tracks. One of the guards thought he’d found a similar print, but when Sherlock examined it closely the nails were slightly too closely spaced.

"I don't think he'd have gone any further than this. If anything he'd have left at this crossing and hoped that his prints were obscured by the time we got to them. We should just go back and see what the others have found.

Sherlock sounded really dejected. Greg put his arm around his shoulders. "Hey, come on. You’ve worked it all out so far and we’re not wasting time still following that other guy so we have the advantage. We could have had no clue where to go next, but at least we know to be looking for other tracks.”

Sherlock nodded and they re-mounted and headed back the way they had come; hoping the others had found something. As they neared the meeting place at the original crossing they saw one of the guards galloping down towards them.

"Sire, we think we've found something. It looks like the same tracks we saw before and they are only coming out of the water with no entry point on the other bank."

"Excellent," shouted Sherlock, "Lead the way".

When they got to the place where all the guards were standing, the approaching party dismounted too and they all went to examine the tracks.

"Yes,” Sherlock exclaimed, “these are the right tracks. Come on, we'll get him yet."

The mood of the whole party was slightly more hopeful as they set off following the tracks once more. The path seemed to run at a diagonal to their previous path, heading away from the town and towards the outlying areas nearer to the border with Sherlock's own kingdom.

After several hours they reached a small hut near the edge of some trees and they slowed down in case there was anyone lurking in the vicinity. There was no sign of a stable, nor any sign of the horse they had been following, but the tracks definitely led up to the hut and not avoiding it. The guards insisted that Greg and Sherlock stayed back whilst they approached the building, but there was no sign of anyone inside. Sherlock went over to examine the tracks and saw two distinct sets of footprints and three sets of hoof prints. The set of prints for the original horse they had been following led onward along the route they had been taking, but the other sets led across the corner of the wood and looked to go through the trees and out the other side.

“I think they must have switched horses... I think the kidnapper has taken John this way, on two horses it seems. To distract us...? or something more. Think. Two horses – less weight. They’re moving faster now. Our time is running out.”

"That makes sense, Sherlock, but why don't we send a couple of the guards after the first horse anyway, if nothing else then can interrogate the rider and try to get some information out of him whilst we follow the more likely lead."

"Yes, that's a good idea. Come on, we're getting nearer; we need to find John."

~*~

John could see they were approaching a town and was wondering if there was some way he could leave a message for Sherlock. He was certain that Sherlock would be on his trail by now; he had every faith in his husband’s tracking abilities. Before they got to the town though, his captor pulled the horses to a stop and leaned over to John.

“Before you start getting any clever ideas I want you to know that we have people in your palace, ready to obey even my most fanciful of whims and if you shout out or draw attention to yourself whilst we are riding through this town then I have no reservations about sending a message to them to hurt your niece and nephew. And believe me, they would have no problems with the level of hurt they inflicted, be it cutting off a finger or a knife to the heart. So it’s your choice; their future is in your hands.”

John paled. He couldn’t risk his family. He tried to correct his posture in the saddle as much as he could and held his head high, and tried his best to look like he wasn’t tied to a horse.

“Glad you’re seeing reason. Now just keep riding straight on through, no sudden movements or you know what will happen.”

John nodded his head once and they started back along the path into the town.

~*~

Many hours later Sherlock, Greg and the remaining guards approached a large town, which Sherlock was fairly sure the kidnapper must have passed through, though now it was growing dark, making any trail even more difficult to follow.

“Why would he risk taking John into a populated area? He must have done something to him or be holding some kind of threat over him. My John isn’t the kind of man to just let things happen to him.” Sherlock shook his head. “The only reason the kidnapper would choose to go this way is to cover his trail so we’re obviously on the right tracks.”

“Do you think he would still be here in town, Sherlock?”

“I don’t think they would stay here, too many opportunities for John to get away, but there’s always a chance that someone might have seen them riding through. We’ll need to be careful and keep our eyes open for a tall man. He’d have to be strong too, to take on John so don’t try to do anything on your own, wait for back-up, just follow and report back. We don’t want to do anything to risk John’s life.”

They made their way through town, keeping their eyes open for John or his captor as they went. They tried both exit gates but the traffic through them had been too heavy and even Sherlock was unable to find any trace of which route they might have taken.

“It’s getting late, Sherlock, and there’s no point following a trail aimlessly in the dark when we could be going in completely the wrong direction. Why don’t we get rooms for the night and then we can ask around in the morning and see if anyone noticed anything.”

“We can’t! That’s just wasting time, we’ll lose the trail even more; we need to keep riding. I have to get John back.”

“I know you want to find John, but there’s no point riding ourselves into exhaustion. We’ll all be better coming at this with fresh eyes in the morning. We can be up at first light and on our way.”

Sherlock pressed his fists to his head in exasperation. “If we really have to.”

“Come on, lad; we’ll find him yet. You know none of us will give up until he’s back with us.” Greg reached over and patted Sherlock on the arm as he said it. Sherlock nodded sadly and they headed back to the stables they had passed on the way in to town to get things sorted for the night.

~*~

John wasn’t given the chance to stop and rest as they kept on riding through the night. He found himself frequently jolting upright as he kept waking up so he must have been dropping off to sleep as he rode; it seemed the contraption holding him prisoner had some benefits he supposed.

During the early morning hours they eventually came in sight of a range of cliffs that John knew formed the border between his father’s kingdom, the one belonging to Sherlock’s brother and Moriville. There was quite a complex range of caves at the base of the cliffs and he and Sherlock had explored a few of them when they had come past here as part of their tour of the kingdom a few months earlier. He knew that some of them went quite deeply back into the cliffs, but they hadn’t had chance to examine them as much as they wanted and had planned to come back here in the summer and explore them more thoroughly.

As they got nearer to the caves John saw two men come out and wait for them. One of them took the horses’ reins and held them still while the other man helped John’s captor to untie him and pull him down out of the saddle. It was a good job the other man was still holding him because as John put weight on his ankle his leg buckled and he would have fallen down. He cried out in pain and leaned heavily on the other man, catching his breath.

“Come on,” John’s captor snapped, “we don’t want to keep him waiting. Carry him if you have to.”

The man supporting John did end up carrying him as his legs seemed to have been rendered temporarily useless. They made their way through a series of caves winding their way further and further into the cliff face. Finally John saw a more brightly lit area ahead of them and assumed they were reaching their destination. He could feel the man carrying him tense up as they approached. He looked over at him questioningly, but the man ignored him and pushed forward.

They entered a large cavern with several lanterns placed around the walls. Standing in the middle was someone John vaguely recognised but couldn’t put a name to. His head was throbbing and trying to access his memories was too painful.

“I’m crushed, Johnny. Did I make so little an impression on you? But then I suppose you were, unfortunately, somewhat pre-occupied the last time we met at your party.”

John was still struggling to place him, but the disgust in the man's voice at the mention of pre-occupation obviously meant he was referring to Sherlock. He was finding it difficult to stay upright and concentrate on what this man was saying with the pain shooting through his body from both his head and his leg, but he somehow knew he had to remain alert and handle things very carefully whilst dealing with him.

“No, I… You would be impossible to forget, it’s just that I can’t think straight with my head, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, I could understand how that would make things difficult.” He turned to John’s captor, “Perhaps you would like to explain why you have damaged my property, Sebastian."

Sebastian blanched at the look he was given. "It was an accident, boss, he hit his head on a rock when I dropped him over the wall as we were making our escape."

"You... 'dropped' him."

"No, not dropped. I didn't mean dropped. I meant lowered; when I lowered him over the wall."

"And what has happened to his leg, he couldn’t even walk in here. Did you 'drop' him on that too?"

"He must have landed on it funny, it's probably just an old ache, that's all. He's fine really, just a bit stiff from being in that special saddle we had made." Sebastian was mumbling nervously now as he dropped his eyes, not looking at his boss and John became even more worried about the kind of person he was dealing with if even his captor was scared of him when he had himself seemed merciless to John.

"I'll deal with you later. Get out of my sight." As Sebastian turned to leave he got a kick in the spine making him stumble and go down on one knee before he got up again and hustled quickly out. The ‘boss’ turned to John and smiled at him, almost shyly with his head down, looking up through his lashes. "Do forgive me, John; dealing with business in front of you like that without even a proper introduction. I am James, the Prince Regent of Moriville."

Recognition sparked in John's eyes as he remembered Prince James as being one of the candidates suggested by his Mother when talking about possible suitors. He was not quite so pleased when the second recollection of him struck as he remembered that it was also the name of the man who had caused so much trouble trying to start a war between his own kingdom and Sherlock's brother which had been the reason Sherlock had been away from John for two years. He buried those feelings for now and tried smiling pleasantly at James, not willing to risk his ire until he knew more what he was dealing with.

"Of course, Prince James, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you instantly, you were at my Ball, weren't you. I remember thinking what an excellent dancer you were."

James blushed, "Why thank you, John, please call me James. I thought you were quite captivating too. I was going to claim another dance with you, but the evening was ruined before I had a chance."

"Ahh, yes. I would have loved another dance with you though."

"Then why did you marry him!" James shouted angrily, almost spitting at John. John jerked back, nearly falling over as his lack of coordination from his head injury kicked in and he tried to support himself on one leg as he couldn’t put any weight at all on the other.

"I.. I didn't know you were still interested, James." John was wracking his sorely tested brains to sound logical. "I thought I had spoiled things for us and didn't know how to make it right."

James smiled at him in a sickly manner. "So you were railroaded into marrying that Sherlock. I knew you wouldn't have chosen him over me. Especially after he messed up all my plans against his stupid brother. Once Mycroft had declared war on your kingdom I was going to swoop in and save you. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me."

"Well I just wish I'd known in time, James. Of course, I would have chosen you." John knew that he had to keep James sweet and say whatever he could to mollify him. The man was totally off his rocker and John didn't want to do anything to make him lose his temper like that again; it had been really terrifying to see how he could just snap in an instant and John was currently in no fit state to be able to defend himself.

“That will all be sorted out soon, don’t worry. He won’t be in the way for long.” James smiled proudly at John who just looked worried.

“Have… have you done something to Sherlock?”

“I thought you just said you didn’t care about him and wanted to be with me.” James’ eyes flashed as he got that crazy look again so John backtracked quickly.

“I do, yes of course, I do. I just wondered if there was something I could do to help you to get out of things, if he would be getting in our way I mean.”

“Well he has been tracking you, that’s true, but I had Seb try a few tricks to disguise your trail to get here and even if your Sherlock manages to keep on it he’ll be intercepted when he reaches the forest by the brigands I hired so we really won’t have to worry about him any more after that. See, didn’t I say I would look after you.”

“That’s great,” John gulped, trying to hide his worry. “I’m glad you’ve managed to trick him.” John just hoped that Sherlock hadn’t set out to follow him on his own this time, though it would certainly be something he would be quite likely to do, unfortunately. All he could hope was that someone else had also noted his absence from the party and stopped Sherlock from leaving alone.

“Now, why don’t we get to know each other properly.”

“Do you have any water; my mouth is a little dry after all that riding.”

“How rude of me, of course I should see to your needs first.” James gesticulated to the man who had helped John off the horse. “You there, go and get me some water, a bowl and cloths. Quickly!”

“Come and sit over here, John.”

John tried to make his way over to the bed set up in the corner of the cavern but he couldn’t put any weight on his bad ankle so James shouted for the man to come back and carry John over to the bed. When the man came back again with the supplies James took them and first poured John a drink and then put some more water in the bowl and used one of the cloths to clean the wound on John's head.

"It's ok, I can do that."

"You're mine to care for. I'll do it for you."

James went back to what he was doing and John thought worriedly about how possessive James was already being and how he ought to handle him. Much as it went against his instincts to fight back, it seemed it was best to just go along with James at the moment whilst John wasn't in a fit state to risk retaliation. He could fight back when his head was a bit clearer and he could walk properly again.

When James had cleaned the head wound he moved on to John's ankle. He lifted John's leg and placed the ankle gently on his lap and tried moving it so see how damaged it was. John paled and bit his lip hard, trying not to cry out at the sharp pain.

"I don't know if it's broken or not but we'll splint it up just in case, I would hate for you to suffer unnecessarily."

"Ok, thank you James. It's very kind of you to look after me."

James sent the man off again for some sticks and bandages and when he came back he used some material to pad the sticks and then bandaged them tightly around John's ankle to hold it in position. Next he called for some food and proceeded to hand feed John some pieces of meat. John smiled warily and accepted.

"Good. You need to build your strength up, especially as you've been injured. Have some more water."

When John had taken all he wanted he stopped. "Thank you, James."

"You must be tired after such a long journey. Why don't you lie down for a while? I'll keep watch over you."

"You don't have to do that. You must have other things to do; I don't want to waste your time."

"There is nothing more important than you, John. I will prove to you that I am the only man for you."

"I believe you, James. Thank you for looking after me."

John carefully lay down and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the avid look on James' face as he watched him any longer. His eyes jolted open as he felt a hand stroking through his hair and he had to force himself not to jerk his head away from the touch. James rubbed his shoulder and motioned for him to close his eyes again. Even though John really didn't want to fall asleep in James' presence, his concussion and the long journey weren't giving him much choice and sooner than he expected he was asleep.

~*~

At first light everyone was already dressed and raring to go. Two of the guards went to get the horses ready while the others split into groups to ask around and see if there had been any sign of John having ridden through the town. The market sellers were all getting set up for the day and Sherlock thought they should be a good source of information as they would have been around all day yesterday. Unfortunately, it seemed that yesterday had been their busiest trading day and they had been mainly more interested in what they had been selling to the foot traffic than watching people riding past with no intention to buy.

Sherlock was getting very disheartened the further through the town he went. As he neared the North gate he saw a beggar, dozing in a doorway. He bought some bread and ale from one of the stalls nearby and woke the beggar up and offered him the food and drink. After he'd had some of each Sherlock asked him if he had seen any sign of John yesterday.

"Aye, smallish fella with blonde hair and a cut on his head. He was sat in some funny saddle contraption and it seemed like his hands were tied to it though he was trying to hide that by the looks of things. Kept his back upright and eyes straight ahead and wasn't looking around him with interest or owt like most folks would do. With a big fella with dark hair who was leading his horse. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Yes, that's excellent, thank you. Did you hear anything or see where they were going?"

"No, neither spoke, very quiet they were and the little one kept his lips shut tight as if nothing would get out. They went out through this gate and didn't leave the path for as far as I could see them."

"Thank you, you have been most observant. Please take the rest of these coins; you might want to get yourself a warm bed for the night or maybe a new pair of boots, the sole of your left one looks as if it will detach completely within two days."

"Well that's right kind of you, thank you muchly."

Sherlock nodded at the man and then quickly headed back to the centre of town where they had agreed to meet after everyone had finished questioning the locals. He passed on the information he had found out and they all mounted up and rode off through the North gate, hopefully getting nearer to John all the time.

~*~

When John awoke he was thankfully alone. He felt his head and though it was still sore, it wasn’t bleeding any more and his dizziness had lessened too so he felt a little better about that. He straightened out his leg and felt pain shoot up from his ankle so that was obviously still going to be a problem. He needed to try walking on it regardless of the pain. He’d never get out of here if he wasn’t mobile.

He pushed himself to the edge of the bed by the wall and managed to lever himself up without putting his foot down. Once he’d got his balance, he took in a deep breath and held it and pressed his foot to the floor. His leg buckled under him as it tried to take his weight and he cried out quietly as the pain went through him. Luckily he fell backwards on to the bed again and didn’t end up on the floor but he sat there quietly for a few minutes just breathing deeply, getting himself back under control.

About twenty minutes later he heard soft whistling coming from one of the side passages opposite to the one which he had been brought down. It stopped as the person approached the entrance to John’s cavern and shortly after James appeared with Sebastian who was sporting a cut on his head and a black eye and walking with a limp. He’d obviously received his punishments from James for John’s mistreatment – an eye for an eye, it seemed. John was even more determined to play along with James for the time being until he could move well enough to escape. Horrible as it would be to have to kowtow to James in any way, he knew he wouldn’t be able to cope with even more injuries in his current state.

When James saw that John was sitting up he sent Seb away and came over to the bed.

“John, you’re awake.”

“Good morning. Yes I’ve only just woken.”

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“Well I don’t feel quite so dizzy, thank you, but my leg hurts to move, even pulling myself to sit up here was almost more than I could do.” John mentioned nothing about trying to stand. The less James knew about the state of his condition the better.

“You should have waited for me, I’d have helped you sit up.

“Well I didn’t want to disturb you and I didn’t know where you were anyway.”

“I’m never too far away, you don’t have to worry about that and you wouldn’t have been disturbing me. I told you I’m here for you, for whatever you need.”

John blushed. “Well I do need to use the facilities please, whatever they may be.”

“Oh yes, of course. Er… Thomas will take you and I’ll get them to bring some breakfast through as well.” James was muttering as he went out to find the aforementioned Thomas.

So James wasn’t prepared to do everything for him after all, John thought. He was sure that Sherlock would have helped him if John found himself incapacitated and somehow that thought made him feel better. Knowing that Sherlock really would do anything for him made him feel special to know he had that in his life and, with any luck, would have very soon again; as soon as he could get himself out of here or Sherlock found him, one or the other.

Thomas came through and turned out to be the man who had carried him in yesterday. He picked him up and carried him through to another area and it was small enough that John could painfully manoeuvre himself from one part to another by leaning on the wall without having to put his foot down so he managed on his own.

When they got back to the main room James was back with some food laid out on the bed. Thomas carried John over and set him down beside James and then left them alone. As he had done before, James fed John himself, leaving John feeling a bit freaked out and quite useless though he allowed James to continue and didn’t say anything. He couldn’t help comparing it to the last time he had shared food with Sherlock in an intimate way. That had been a fun night; hand feeding each other strawberries dipped in chocolate and getting to lick the excess chocolate off Sherlock’s body afterwards had been especially rewarding.

John had a faraway look in his eyes and smiled as he thought about it and then he shouted and pulled his hand back to see three deep red marks in the back of it where James had just stabbed him with his fork.

“What was that for?”

“You didn’t seem to be here with me so I assumed you must have been having bad memories so I was saving you from them.” James gave him a severe look and John smiled sickly back.

“Thank you, James.” He would have to be even more careful about how he acted in front of James it seemed or he’d be going home black and blue when he did escape – if he managed it at all.

~*~

Sherlock, Greg and the guards had been riding for a good few hours when they came to a fork in the road. The path had been too well travelled by this time for there still to be a trail for them to follow and they were unsure which way to go. One side seemed to lead back on itself almost and cut across to what Sherlock knew was a quiet town to the East and after that into quite a big area of wilderness. The fork to the West would lead them through the large forest on the horizon and past there Sherlock knew it led to the mountainous border crossing which was the boundary between the three kingdoms; Greg’s, Mycroft’s and James’ and this seemed a much more likely destination. Greg sent four of the guards off on the East path just to make sure that John hadn’t passed through that town and the rest of them followed the path that led into the forest and beyond.

The forest path afforded the riders some welcome shade after being in the hot sun all day. It was quite a well worn passage with enough width for them to easily ride two astride so there would have been no problem for John to pass this way being towed by his captor.

After they had been riding a while Sherlock noticed the bird song had stopped. He motioned Greg closer and warned him that there may be a predator ahead that had frightened the birds as they had not been silenced by the sight of his own group of riders so it must be something more sinister. Greg raised his arm and signalled to his knights and they immediately bunched up around Greg and Sherlock.

The move came not a moment too soon as from the surrounding bushes there appeared four savage boarhounds. The huge creatures leapt up, biting at the legs of the riders and horses, trying to cripple one or the other. Two of the horses reared up and one of the guards fell off the back of his. His sword was quickly in his hand and he slashed at the hound who had attacked his horse, managing a slice to its back but not stopping it as it came back at him again and bit on to his sword arm holding him in place so he had no chance to flee from the full force of his horses’ hooves as they came down on the side of his head, killing him instantly. It happened so quickly that the other guards hadn’t realised they had lost one of their own as they had their own battles to fight.

After the initial first wave of attack by the boarhounds their owners followed closely behind and as they charged in the leader shouted, "There; the tall one in the middle." There were at least ten bandits attacking them with swords, staffs, axes or whatever they had been able to get their hands on, trying to get through the outer ring of protectors. One guard kicked the hound that attacked him in the face stunning it and was able to catch one of the bandits as well with his sword before another one managed to pull him off his horse. Luckily he’d been well trained in such tactics and he rolled as he landed and swung back round with his sword and came up behind his attacker and stabbed him as he turned.

Sherlock and Greg didn’t have big long swords like the guards but their own smaller swords could still do damage with a parry and thrust motion and if a bandit snuck behind the guards they didn’t find the pair easy prey. Sherlock stabbed one attacker through the chest and bashed another with the hilt of his sword as he sat back up and Greg got another in the arm and also got one of the dogs as it tried to jump up and attack the guard next to him. Sherlock heard Greg shout out at one point but he kept on fighting so Sherlock turned back to continue his own battle.

The guards tried to close ranks as much as they could around Sherlock and Greg to protect them and their extra height from being on horseback allowed them to strike downwards more easily than the bandits could stretch up so some well placed kicks and jabs with the swords were having more effect and the bandits were sustaining more casualties all the time. When the last dog fell the two remaining bandits seemed to lose heart and tried to run but the guards didn’t want to give them a chance to regroup and come at them again with reinforcements so two of them rode after them and they were quickly dispatched before the guards rode back to assess what damage have been wrought to their own party.

One of the guards had been killed, and the remaining five all had varying levels of injury, luckily only one had a serious wound. Sherlock himself had a cut along one arm but it wasn’t too deep. The main worry, however, was Greg. When Sherlock had heard him shout out he had, in fact, been stabbed in the side. He had ignored it whilst they were fighting but now that the immediate danger was over he collapsed down into his saddle and had trouble staying astride his horse.

One of the guards had trained for a while with the palace doctor and knew how to do basic bandaging and first aid. He had a medical kit with him so he poured water over the wound to clean it and set about doing a temporary repair job until they could get Greg to a proper doctor at the big town they had passed through that morning. They rigged up a litter for Greg and also for the other seriously wounded guard as neither would be capable of riding for a while. All the other injuries were patched up and then the arguments started as to who was going where. There was no question that Greg would have to go back to town for treatment as they wouldn't risk the health of their King and the guards insisted that they accompany him for protection in case anything else happened along their journey and also to be able to take the two litters between them. Sherlock, however, was insisting that he go onwards and find John.

"You can't go on your own, Sherlock. You heard what they shouted. It wasn't just a random attack, they were looking for you. What if something happens to you? John would never forgive me."

"Just as I would never forgive myself if anything happened to John. Don't forget I was working on my own for two years whilst I was away from John and was perfectly capable of doing it alone. In fact, I can be quicker on my own as I'll be able to sneak into places where a group of people would be instantly spotted and I can avoid any other traps which might have been set. Please, Father, let me do this, I need to help John; for you and the kingdom as well as for myself."

The emphasis on 'Father' stopped Greg in his tracks. He knew just how much John meant to Sherlock and he couldn't refuse him now.

"Please, Sherlock, be careful. I can't go home and tell everyone that I've lost both of you." Greg reached up and clasped Sherlock's arm pulling him in for a careful hug. "Look after yourself."

"I will, Father. Get well quickly and I'll see you soon. I'll bring John back to you."

Greg's party left to go back to the nearest town. Sherlock raised his hand as Greg waved goodbye to him then he turned and carried on through the forest. He thought it unlikely that there would be another ambush in the forest for him; there was little chance he could have defeated all those bandits and their hounds if he had been alone which is probably what would have been expected by Prince James – Sherlock had quite firmly decided that it was him they were dealing with - so he was sure that only the one ambush would have been set up. Sherlock admitted to himself that it had been lucky that Greg had insisted on coming along and bringing his guards or his search and, indeed, his life might have ended here.

~*~

John had spent quite a nervous, but for the most part, boring day. When he was on his own he had nothing to do except sit on the bed and rest as he had been told to do by James. During the times when he had company it was usually James himself who sat with him and he kept John in a constant state of anxiety as to what he would do next so John's nerves were suffering for it.

James had come in to have lunch with him and once again insisted on feeding John which he was finding more and more annoying every time James did it. He was feeling helpless enough just having to sit around doing nothing and being treated like he was incapable of even eating on his own was not endearing James to him at all. He didn't say anything about it though, not wanting to stir the evil temper James had displayed on several occasions now. He just kept thoughts of Sherlock and getting back to him in his mind. He would bide his time and wait until he could move on his own and then he would fight back with more of a chance of success.

He was harder pressed not to react negatively when James touched him again after lunch, however. James was sat very close to him and put one hand on John’s thigh. He slid the index finger of his other hand down John’s arm and back, smiling up at John as he did it. John smiled wanly back, trying to hide his revulsion as James moved up to cup John’s cheek and glide his thumb across John’s lip. James did it a few times but John didn’t open his lips even when James pressed in harder. James glared at him and put his hands on either side of John’s head holding him tightly in position and then moved in with his lips to follow the trail his thumb had taken. He kissed first one corner of John’s mouth and then the other and slid his tongue along the seam. John pressed his lips together tightly, denying James access. James grabbed hold of John’s hair and pulled it sharply back, tilting his head back and forcing his mouth open as he cried out at the pain. James pushed his tongue into John’s mouth as it opened, moving into every space and almost making John gag.

This time John couldn’t stop himself. He had been able to force himself to put up with a few touches here and there, unwelcome though they were, but this was a direct invasion of his body and he wasn’t going to allow that. He pushed back against James’ chest trying to break him away from his mouth. James grabbed on to John’s bottom lip and bit down to hold him there. John yelped and he tried to pull James’ hands away from his head. James held on tight and wouldn’t let go with his hands or his teeth. Even though he didn’t have much leverage John dug his nails into James’ fingers and, with the small amount of movement he had as James’ fingers flexed, he tried to head butt James away. He succeeded slightly but it was their noses that banged together hard instead of their foreheads and they both broke away at the pain. James pulled away sharply and swung his fist catching John on the side of the head just over his previous cut and it instantly opened up again leaving his blood flowing freely and John felt his former dizziness return at the sudden, jerking movement.

“What the hell did you do that for? Now look what you’ve made me do to you.” James growled at him as he pulled the sheet up to try and stop the blood which was flowing from John’s nose as well as his head now.

“I’m sorry, you caught me off guard; I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”

“You said you wanted me and would have chosen me over him so why would it be such a shock to you for me to kiss you.”

James’ eyes were dilated and scary as they stared John down and he was nervous of how to answer and he was feeling dizzy again from the new injury to his head.

“I… I just wanted to come to you fresh and unencumbered and… I just feel we should wait until we know Sher…,” John cut himself off from mentioning Sherlock’s name as he saw the glint in James’ eye, “…he’s really gone first so there’s nothing to spoil us being together.”

James looked slightly mollified but John knew he was still on the edge of falling back into his crazy temper. He forced himself to rub his hand along the arm that James was holding up to clean his face and smiled at him. James smiled back and patted John’s hand.

“That’s a nice thought; then we can dismiss him completely from our lives, can’t we. I’ll get Thomas to come in with some water for your face and I’ll see you later after we’ve had word from my men that he’s dead.”

“Yes, that’ll be good, thank you.” John smiled again until James turned his back and left then he huddled into the corner and wished for Sherlock to hurry and find him. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

~*~

Sherlock was actually glad now to be on his own. He could make much faster time and he didn't have to stop for wasteful things like food and sleep. He did make sure to provide for his horse along the way but he knew he could make up some of his lost time now. He made it safely through the forest and on the other side he saw the mountains in the distance with all the caves that he had planned to explore in the summer with John. He thought that was probably the best place for him to start his search as some of them went very deep into the mountains and may even lead through to the kingdoms on the other side. He certainly knew that there had been some caves that led through to his own kingdom but Mycroft had had them blocked off when he had come to power and had been fortifying his defences.

Sherlock rode all afternoon and evening until he neared the caves. He had ridden a circuitous route to come at them from the side so that he wouldn't be in full view of anyone who might be on look-out so he hadn't seen any trail, but now as he tied his horse up and approached the caves on foot he saw hooves and footprints leading into one of the larger caves in the centre. He counted the prints of four people and two horses. He could tell that one of the people had stumbled at the entrance, obviously unable to stand and then must have been carried in and his heart leapt as he just knew that must have been John. The chances of two other people just happening to come to these caves on horses and one of them being injured was just too much to accept.

Sherlock crept into the entrance of the cave, keeping to the walls to avoid detection. He passed a cave that was obviously being used for stabling the horses. He could hear someone whistling inside so he edged in and used the hilt of his knife to hit the man across the back of the head and then he used some of the reins to tie him up and gag him.

He took some more rope with him in case he needed to subdue anyone else. He had only seen four sets of footprints outside but that didn't mean there weren't more people within. He quietly made his way further inside, just knowing that John awaited him.

Sherlock crept quietly but quickly through the caves until he saw a well lit area ahead of him. He lay on the floor as he reached the corner of the wall and peeped around it. His heart leapt and he felt the release of a tension he hadn't even realised he was holding as he saw that the sole occupant of the cave was John himself and he was alive.

Sherlock didn't run straight over to his husband as every instinct was telling him to do, he listened carefully to hear if there was anyone else in the immediate vicinity. Only when he had ascertained that John really was alone did he make his presence known. When John and he had been on their tour of the kingdom they had practised lots of hunting and tracking techniques as they travelled and Sherlock used one now to get John's attention. He made a low bat call which he knew John would recognise as Sherlock had a specific way of making it at the end that always used to make John laugh.

John's head shot up and he looked all round the cave, first making sure that no-one else was around and then to work out where Sherlock was, for it could only be him he was sure. Sherlock peeped out from the corner again and was so happy at the expression of pure joy that shone from John's face that he just lay there looking for a few moments. John beckoned him over so, after checking once again that the coast was clear, Sherlock ran over and they fell into each other's arms, happy just to be together after what seemed like so long apart, even though it had only been a couple of days. They kissed deeply then Sherlock felt all over John's head, checking the scalp wound he had deduced would be there and satisfying himself that it had been properly treated, though it seemed to him that it had been opened up again. His face darkened further as he saw the new bruises around John’s nose and the teeth marks in his swollen lip too. These were all far too recent to have been caused from the fall and Sherlock didn’t like where his thoughts were taking him. John seemed to sense what Sherlock was feeling from the look on his face so he put his hand on Sherlock’s cheek and smiled at him, wordlessly telling him that it was ok. When Sherlock tried to swing John's legs round to pull him to his feet John let out an involuntary yelp, luckily managing to keep it low and Sherlock banged his forehead with his fist.

"Stupid! Sorry, John, I shouldn't be trying to rush you in your condition. I was just so excited to see you again. How bad is your leg; is it broken or sprained; can you walk on it; how does your head feel; how many others are there here; do they come to check on you often?"
"Sherlock, too many questions, give me a minute to answer one before you lay on ten others." John smiled at Sherlock, "wow, I have missed this; missed you, love. To start at the beginning, I'm not too bad now except my leg. My head was dizzy and I was in and out of consciousness on the way here but that seems to have eased off now, except for when James hit me this morning. No, my ankle isn't broken I don’t think, but it is very badly sprained and I can't put any weight on it. I tried this morning and would have fallen if I hadn’t been leaning against the wall. It's Prince James from Moriville who had me brought here by the way, but I'm sure you've probably already worked that out. It was his underling Sebastian Moran who actually did the kidnapping and as well as those two I've seen two other people here, one seemed to be looking after the horses when I arrived and one seems to carry out all the menial chores. Up ‘til now they've just been coming in to see me at meal times so we should have an hour or so until they come back again."

"If you had me to lean on do you think you could manage to hop back out to the entrance or I could try carrying you?"

"I'd have you over in a second if you tried to carry me that far, Sherlock, you'd blow away if there was a strong wind."

"Well, I'm glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humour, John."

"I'm sorry, love, you know I'm only joking. I know that you're deceptively strong despite you being as skinny as a rake. I think I'm just so happy to see you; I've been so worried about what you had to face to come after me. James told me about the elaborate precautions he'd taken to trick you and that he'd set up an ambush in the forest for you. Obviously you made it through them all; I never had any doubts in your ability."

"I'll tell you all about them when we manage to get out of here, John. Now put your arm around my neck and I'll support your waist and you see if you can hop."

John did as Sherlock said and tried a hop. As he landed on his good foot an agonising jolt shot through him from his bad ankle even though it hadn't touched the ground and he sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He lifted his head, gritted his teeth and nodded for Sherlock to continue.

"My John; so brave.”

They went as fast as John could manage and he hopped his way to the entrance. By the time they got there he was completely washed out and his head was throbbing again with the strain of holding back the pain. He knew he certainly couldn’t have gotten so far without Sherlock to help him and it slightly eased his self-hate for being so submissive in not fighting back against James; he wouldn’t have been able to escape and he had definitely been safer playing along rather than riling the man up without any recourse of being able to get away.

“Just lean against the wall and get your breath back for a minute, John, whilst I saddle a couple of those horses for us. I left my own mount in the trees just beyond the entrance and we can pick him up as we go past as these ones will be fresher and able to run further and faster to get us away.”

John was only too glad to have a chance to stop. He was actually feeling quite sick and dizzy with the pain and he knew it wouldn’t ease up much when he got on the horse as the motion would just jolt it again.

Sherlock went into the side cave and saw that the man he had tied up was still securely fastened. He saddled up two horses and then took the reins of all the horses to lead them out of the way. When he got back to where John was waiting though, he was no longer alone. James was standing behind him with a knife blade to John’s neck and a manic grin on his face.

“Prince Sherlock. We meet at last.”

“Prince James. I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but I’m afraid it isn’t.”

“You appear to be trying to remove my property.”

“John is no-one’s property, he is a person and I am privileged to say that I am the one he chose to be with so he is absolutely nothing to you whatsoever. Now why don’t you let him go.”

“He said he was only with you because you forced him and he really wanted me all along. I don’t think he’d even want you back now anyway after what we’ve done together. He’s seen for himself what it’s like to have a real man and believe me, you can’t compare. When Sebastian comes back I will have him kill you for your nerve in taking what’s mine.”

John was trying to catch Sherlock’s eye and shake his head without cutting himself on the knife. He didn’t want Sherlock thinking he had done anything with James. Sherlock, of course, had been able to tell exactly what had happened just from looking at John and could tell from seeing John’s injuries and James’ own damaged nose that John had not been a willing participant in anything that happened. He gave John a mini eye roll to reassure him that he knew the truth and carried on taunting James.

“Why don’t you kill me yourself if I’m such an abomination. Let John go and take me instead.”

“Sherlock!” John interjected at this point. He would far rather stay in James’ hands himself than risk letting him getting hold of Sherlock. James tightened his grip on John’s neck and shook him.

“Not now, Johnny boy, the big boys are talking. I don’t like to get my hands dirty on scum such as you, Sherlock; you’re not worth my time.”

“I managed to thwart your big plans last year, surely revenge for that is worth your time.” Sherlock was skating a thin line between riling James enough to get him to attack him and let John go and carefully watching the pressure he was exerting with the knife on John’s throat so he didn’t go too far.

James snarled at Sherlock and pointed the knife in his direction. “You’ll pay for that. It had taken me over a year to set all that up and it almost succeeded until you messed everything up.”

As soon as John felt the knife move away from his skin he jabbed his elbow back hard into James’ stomach, winding him and twisted round to the side under James’ arm and dropped down to the ground out of his reach and rolled nearer to Sherlock. James held the knife out in front of him, waving it to stop Sherlock approaching whilst he caught his breath.

James had his back to the interior of the cave but he sensed movement behind him and shouted out to his underling whom he assumed had obviously just arrived.

“Seb, get this bastard, now.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be happening, do you?”

A posh, cultured voice cut in from behind him and James spun round to see who was there. He swung the knife round and almost dropped it in shock when he realised who it was that was standing there. It was King Mycroft himself; the man who never left the comfort of his palace was standing in the cave. With him were a whole troop of guards, some of them keeping tight hold of Sebastian and Thomas and some with bows and arrows pointed directly at James.

“You don’t scare me. You wouldn’t dare hurt me, I’m a Prince of the Realm.”

“You would be amazed at what I am prepared to do in a situation like this. You appear to be threatening the life of my little brother and his husband, who are both also Princes of the Realm and now you are holding a knife out against a King of the Realm. I think that gives me the right to take any and all necessary precautions. Would someone please disarm this man and then remove him from my sight.”

Two of Mycroft’s guards stepped forward to take the knife from James but he was not prepared to surrender and he swung it round, almost catching one man in the arm as he approached. An archer let fly an arrow and it went straight through the centre of James’ palm and he dropped the knife as he cried out in pain. The guards seized James’ arms and tied them behind his back, letting the blood drip down until one of them eventually pulled out the arrow and wrapped a cloth around his hand. Then they dragged him back through the cave the way they had come followed by more of the guards with the other prisoners including the one that Sherlock had left tied up by the horses.

"Mycroft. To what do we owe the honour of you climbing down from your perch."

"Is it really so hard to believe that I would be concerned about you, Sherlock. I had heard mutterings about plots regarding you and John and that someone was using these caves for something nefarious so I had the entrance from our kingdom secretly unblocked and sent men over here to investigate. When I got word that you had set off in person to relocate John I came down here to provide assistance. I knew that James was incensed about you foiling his plan. I wasn't aware of how deep his fixation was with John though. I'm sorry you had to go through that John. It seems I arrived just in time to assist with the apprehension, though of course you had already managed to free yourself so all ends well."

"Thank you, Mycroft. It was very good timing to wrap things up, though Sherlock would have been able to handle everything if he'd had to. He can do anything. He tracked me here even through all the traps that James set for him." John smiled up at Sherlock who relaxed a little at the praise from his husband. Mycroft always managed to get to Sherlock and feeling as if he had been outdone by him at the end there had left him irritated.

Sherlock carefully helped John to his feet and looked as the new cut on John's neck. Luckily it wasn't too deep and one of Mycroft's guards had a medical kit with him and bandaged it up for them.

"I've had a couple of carriages sent round the long way as they wouldn't fit through the caves obviously. They should be here in about two hours if you'd like to go and sit outside and get some fresh air whilst you wait. I'm sure you want to get out of these caves, John. If you'll permit the liberty, Charles here would be glad to carry you out to save further damage to your ankle."

Sherlock looked as if he was going to sulk again, but John put his arm round him and hugged him and Sherlock nodded his acceptance.

"Come on, love, let's get out of here." John turned to Charles who easily lifted him up and took him outside to sit on a conveniently placed boulder. John thanked him and made room for Sherlock to sit next to him and they sat leaning against each other, revelling in being free and together once again.

Mycroft came outside too and Sherlock did his best to ignore him. He soon cheered up though when John asked him about everything that had happened and he got to explain how clever he'd been. John got a bit upset when he heard his father had been injured, but Sherlock reassured him that he was being well cared for and they decided to go there first on their way back and collect him to take him home more comfortably in their carriage.

~*~

They ended up spending a month in the town to which Greg had been taken. The King was very glad to see John and that helped to ease his worries and aided him in a quicker recovery from his own injuries which had been very efficiently dealt with by the local surgeon. Messengers had been dispatched to Molly to ease her mind also and when they eventually travelled home comfortably in Mycroft's carriage a month later, the Queen was there to greet them on their arrival with relieved hugs and kisses all round.

Mycroft didn't come home with them but he had stayed for a few days to spend some time with Gregory discussing affairs of state and consolidating their now peaceful alliance. There was some debate between them as to who would have the pleasure of throwing James in their dungeon. Mycroft won eventually, citing far more elaborate and exotic methods of dealing with him and also of keeping the whole thing secret so Greg allowed him free rein, happy to know that John would be fully avenged.

John and Sherlock themselves were just happy to be back together again. They spent all their time in each other's company except for when they were visiting Greg. John's injuries gradually healed but Sherlock continued to be worried about him and treated him with kid gloves and John was getting exceedingly frustrated, both mentally and sexually as Sherlock wouldn't do more than kiss and hold him whilst he was injured. He had decided that when they got back home he was going to take matters into his own hands and get his normal husband back instead of this worry-wart he had now.

After significant time visiting with all the family when they did eventually get home and reassuring everyone that he was fine and getting his father settled in his room to continue his recuperation, John and Sherlock finally retired to their own suite.

John locked the door and stalked over to Sherlock who was checking their mail by the window. Sherlock looked up and frowned slightly at the determined look on John's face.

"John, are you ok? What are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Sherlock. I'll be even better when I get all your clothes off."

"You should be resting, John. You're still..."

"Sherlock, shut up! I've been resting for a whole month and I'm completely recovered and I want to see my husband naked and on the bed in front of me - right now!"

"John, I think...," Sherlock trailed off as he looked at the intense expression in John's eyes.

"No, Sherlock, no thinking, this is the time for doing. I had to fake acceptance and show weakness in front of James instead of standing up to him and fighting as every instinct would have had me do and I hated every minute of it. Now I want to take control back and have what is mine and that happens to be you. So, on the bed. Naked. Now. If you'd be so kind." John grinned over at Sherlock as he saw the smile lift the corners of his mouth.

"Oh John, I've missed you so much." Sherlock laughed and stripped as fast as he was able and moved over to the bed, laying in the centre and holding out his arm for John.

John didn't hesitate; he took Sherlock's arm and allowed himself to be pulled over to the bed.

"You still seem a little overdressed yourself, John," Sherlock smiled up at him.

"Well, we can't have that, can we." John smirked and quickly undressed then joined Sherlock on the bed.

"What would you like, John? As you said, I am all yours so take what you will."

"I think what I'd like most would be for you to take me. I want to ride you first and then lie on our sides so that I can feel every part of you touching me then, if we can keep going long enough," he laughed, "I want you on top of me so I can look into those beautiful eyes as you come inside me and know that I am yours as you are mine."

Sherlock's mouth had dropped open as John described what he wanted. "Oh god, yes. I want that too, John."

Sherlock reached over for the oil they used and coated his fingers. With John leaning over him, trailing kisses over every part of his face, Sherlock reached round and circled John’s hole before slipping one finger slowly inside. John groaned against Sherlock’s lips and pushed back, trying to get more of that digit inside him. Sherlock happily obliged and soon added another and another, opening John up comfortably so he could fit.

“Enough, Sherlock, I need you now.”

Sherlock speedily removed his fingers and poured some oil over his cock and held it steady as John straddled his lap and eased himself down in one long, slow motion until Sherlock’s shaft was buried deep inside him. He paused for a few moments just enjoying the stretch and allowing himself to get used to it before he reached down and took Sherlock’s hands in his and used them to balance himself as he lifted his hips until just the head remained in him then he slammed himself down hard, drawing a deep moan out of both Sherlock and himself.

“Oh, John, yes, do that again.”

John did it again and again, taking it really slow on the way up and then pushing his way straight back down again. He changed his angle slightly and the next time he sank down Sherlock brushed right over his prostate.

“That feels so good, love. The things you do to me.”

“I’d say it’s the things you’re doing to me, right now,” Sherlock smiled up at him and then groaned again at the heat that surrounded him as John slid down his shaft.

John really wanted to make this last and follow his plan; he was desperate to come with Sherlock on top of him so he lifted himself off and swung his leg back over and lay down, rolling Sherlock over to spoon him. Sherlock pulled John’s whole body closely in line with his own until John was surrounded by him with Sherlock’s arms folded tightly around his chest. John lifted his leg and Sherlock slid back in easily. Sherlock kept the strokes slow and small so that he could touch as much of John as possible, making sure to rub over John’s prostate each time, keeping John in a constant state of need. Sherlock had one arm circling and pinching John’s nipple and the other stroking his cock, keeping pace with his own thrusts.

“Now, Sherlock, I’m not going to last much longer. I need to see you; feel you.”

“Me too. Roll, quickly.” Sherlock moved backwards and allowed John to roll on to this back then Sherlock was right there lifting John’s legs up around his waist and sinking straight back in to John again, eliciting a groan from them both at the new position.

“Ooooh, s’good. Now fuck me – hard!”

Sherlock’s eyes lit up and he grinned down at John. “Your wish is my command, oh husband mine.”

Sherlock pulled almost all the way out and then pushed back in fast and hard, setting a punishing rhythm. John grunted at every thrust, finding himself sliding up the bed at the effort. He put one arm up to push against the headboard to stop himself banging into it and with the other he reached up and grabbed Sherlock’s head, running his fingers through his hair as he pulled him down for a deep kiss.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, always and forever.”

“No-one can ever take me away from you, no matter how hard they try. I will always be yours.”

“Yes, John, always.”

As he said it Sherlock grabbed hold of John’s cock and one stroke was all it took. It was as if John had just been waiting for their affirmation of each other to prove they were one before he came all over them. Sherlock was only a moment behind him as he felt John’s internal muscles quivering around his shaft.

After a few moments of recovery John lifted Sherlock’s face from where it had fallen into his neck as he collapsed.

“I really do love you, you know. Thank you for coming to rescue me. I never had any doubt that you’d find me. Our love is too strong for us not to be together.”

“I would always come for you, John. In fact, I think I just did.” Sherlock laughed as John flicked his nose. “But seriously, you are my everything, John. I couldn’t see my life continuing if you weren’t there to share it with me. Thank you for wanting to be with me. Not many people would have done that for me.”

“Then they’re fools for not seeing how special you are. It’s their loss and definitely my gain and don’t think for one second that I’m letting you go.”

“Never, John, you’re stuck with me now.”

“I couldn’t be more pleased to hear that. I love you, Sherlock. You are mine and I am yours.”

“Yours, always yours, love.” Sherlock leant down and kissed John, never happier to be together again. They fell asleep just as they were; two halves of one whole, reunited once more.

~*~

The End

~*~