Heir Apparently

Don't Obey Your King

"I knew it; I knew this was a bad idea." Sherlock managed, his voice cracking with incomprehensible emotion. The only man he had ever desired being disgusted by his very presence, why had he opened his mouth, why had he even dared?
"Sherlock, wait, Sherlock just to...just to clarify...?" John muttered, his voice sounding so small and unsure that Sherlock doubted it was even him. Sherlock shook his head, his lips trembling, he felt a sob coming on and he was doing everything he could to conceal it.
"It's stupid, it's impossible, I should leave, I don't...I don't think you'll want to see me any longer." Sherlock decided, turning so that he could make his way to the door in shame.
"Tell me Sherlock." John said so agressivley that it made Sherlock turn immediately, watching as John marched closer to him with a rage in his eyes that made Sherlock want to cower in fear. He never knew that love would be so scary; he never knew that John could ever look so threatening when he himself was finally being so soft.
"I..." Sherlock paused, shaking his head and feeling a tear sliding down his cheek once more. "Please don't make me say it John, I don't think I'm able to."
"I won't believe you until you do." John insisted. Sherlock looked at him in confusion, not knowing what that meant, not knowing what to even think or what to say. But obviously there was only one thing he could say. John wasn't ten feet away, he was looking so determined that Sherlock was worried he might punch him until he would admit to his true feelings.
"John...I'm...I'm in love with you." Sherlock admitted, laughing to himself as the tears fell once more. John stood there for a moment, blinking and staring at the ground, his mind traveling a million miles per minute. Sherlock could only hold his breath unconsciously, not being able to wait for John's response, not wanting to hear it.
"So, so in fact, you're um, you're...?" John wondered, looking up at Sherlock in a bit of a shock.
"I'm a homosexual." Sherlock said flatly, hoping that was the answer John was looking for. God that had been so painful yet so easy, like all of Sherlock's problems had flown away as soon as John didn't scream.
"Yes I've gathered that." John agreed in a very small voice, as if he were torn between two very tempting options of action. "And you want me, well, you are wondering if I am as well?"
"I was kind of hoping that you could come to be. Maybe...maybe half?" Sherlock wondered.
"And that I could love you back." John muttered. He looked very shell shocked, just staring without blinking, obviously not able to process any of this without saying it out loud.
"You're making this a lot more technical than it needs to be, John...oh gosh what have I done?" Sherlock groaned, running his fingers through his curls desperately. "What have I done?" he repeated.
"You've done nothing wrong." John said immediately, as if he were trying to defend Sherlock's actions for him.
"You don't hate me?" Sherlock whispered, not even daring to believe it before he heard if out of John's mouth.
"No, of course not, I mean...somehow I feel like I knew. I feel like I've always known I just chose not to acknowledge it." John admitted slowly. Sherlock was starting to feel hope, a terrible pesky emotion that led to nothing but disappointment. He nodded quickly, stepping closer subconsciously.
"You don't have to do anything, you can walk away, you can think." Sherlock insisted as quickly as he could, hoping that things weren't going too quickly for that poor boy. They were going quickly for Sherlock of course, he couldn't even process that he had been brave enough to say anything.
"But you don't want me to do that." John pointed out. Sherlock looked at him guiltily, shaking his head the slightest bit.
"No I don't." he admitted in a tiny whisper. No of course he didn't, he wanted John to come closer, he wanted be able to live in his dreams in reality, with John and his love and his consent.
"You want me to step forward, yes?" John wondered, walking up to Sherlock so that there was no more than a small gap between them. With every step Sherlock wanted to run, his heart was beating so quickly in his chest that he was worried it would give up all together; he could almost feel his blood rushing and his brain swelling.
"You don't want to be this close to me." Sherlock whispered, wanting to kick himself for even suggesting the idea of retreat.
"You want it." John pointed out. Sherlock felt as if John were reading his mind, somehow he knew, he knew every little thing that Sherlock's heart desired. He knew what it had to lead up to.
"Yes." Sherlock breathed, holding up his hand ever so lightly, ever so cautiously, so that it hovered right above John's cheek, so close that he could feel the heat but far enough away that their skin never touched. He leaned ever so closer, he knew John's face was coming ever closer but he couldn't fully process it, he couldn't except that this was happening. And yet the only part of Sherlock that ever came in contact with John was his breath, it took Sherlock a moment to realize just what he was doing, and what John was doing. He was just standing there. He looked fearful, he looked anxious; he looked as if he knew he had to do this but he didn't quite want to, not just yet. He wasn't leaning forward; he wasn't touching Sherlock's cheek or closing his eyes in anticipation. He stood there like a statue, stunned beyond comprehension and just taking it as it happened. So Sherlock pulled himself away, ripping himself from John's presence as quickly as he realized what was wrong.
"I want this John, but you don't." Sherlock insisted, taking a stumbling step backwards as he realized his mistake. "You're following orders, you're...you're obeying me dispute your own feelings." John stared at him for a moment, taking a moment to really process what Sherlock was saying to him.
"No Sherlock, no of course not I just don't know what to do." John insisted desperately, as if he were trying to protect Sherlock's self-esteem all while really hoping for this whole ordeal to end.
"You don't want to be with me John, you're not loving your friend, you're obeying your king." Sherlock breathed, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment at what he should've done.
"Sherlock wait, you've got it wrong..." John insisted, trying to step forward while Sherlock scurried back. No, this was a disaster, he didn't want to hear what John had to say, he didn't even want to look at the apologetic face the boy forced himself to wear. John was being loyal, he was being obedient, he didn't have feelings, he never would, Sherlock was just doing what he wanted to do without any care in the world for anyone else's feelings, for their fears. And so Sherlock ran, turning as fast as he could away from John before he could call out and running from the stables as fast as he could, up the cobblestone paths to the castle, regretting everything he did and didn't do.