Heir Apparently

Coming Out Of The Closet...Literally

"I was just talking, I fell." Sherlock insisted, brushing himself off angrily and glaring daggers at his servant. "Don't you have work to do?" he wondered.
"I was just on my way to find my gloves; I had left them in here before I went to your room to clean up." Billy admitted. Sherlock narrowed his eyes in confusion, and Billy drew away slightly.
"And what do you need gloves for?" Sherlock wondered.
"You're not the most cleanly of people Sherlock, when I clean out the back of your closet I would much rather have gloves on, in case I get bitten by something." Billy insisted. John couldn't help but laugh, covering his mouth as soon as he heard a chuckle escape his lips. Billy looked at him in confusion, his eyes widening after a moment, looking back at Sherlock in excitement.
"Oh my god!" he exclaimed. Obviously neither of them knew exactly what he meant by this, but there was a good chance that Billy had just made some sort of conclusion.
"No, you're wrong, you're so wrong." Sherlock insisted. Billy looked as if he had just won a million gold pieces, however, and apparently none of Sherlock's faulty convincing was going to change anything.
"It's been John this whole time! Here I was thinking you were having some sort of affair with Irene!" Billy exclaimed. Sherlock looked disgusted, but he shook his head, taking a defensive step back as if that would somehow change Billy's mind.
"I'm not having anything with anyone; I'm having no more than a chat with John here about his transfer." Sherlock insisted, looking as stubborn as he could manage while fixing his shirt.
"And that's why you want to transfer him! Oh, it all makes sense now!" Billy exclaimed, looking as if he had just solved the all the mysteries in the world.
"We're not in love!" Sherlock exclaimed, loudly enough that John almost believed it. But even as Sherlock said it, John could see his confidence breaking. His lower lip trembled as if he were going to cry, his hands shook and he closed his eyes, turning away from Billy in shame.
"No, you weren't...you weren't supposed to know." Sherlock insisted. John stood up from the bed, trying to take all of the attention off of Sherlock for a moment. Billy looked at the two quizzically, looking exciting for solving the case but also looking a bit ashamed to have made his king cry.
"Sir I'm sorry, but I respect your judgement, and your decision. I won't tell anyone, I promise." Billy assured. Sherlock just shook his head, his fist clenched at his side.
"You better not Billy; you need to swear to me!" Sherlock insisted, swooping around so quickly that both John and Billy stumbled back in shock. Sherlock's eyes were more determined than John had ever seen them, the furious devotion Sherlock had to keeping their relationship a secret was almost astounding.
"Swear to me." Sherlock hissed. Billy nodded quickly, crossing his fingers in an X over his heart.
"I swear, I'll never tell a soul." He assured. Sherlock looked a bit more satisfied, his expression softening as he glanced quickly at John.
"He's my servant." Sherlock explained, as if he had thought John didn't already figure that out.
"Yes, yes, I know he is." John agreed with a week sort of nod, shocked to see so many emotions running through Sherlock's head at once. He seemed oddly stressed today, as if there was something he wanted to do, or there might be something he knew was coming. Surely he couldn't suspect the end result of Saturday, could he? He couldn't possibly know about his own murder?
"So were you two like, you know...?" Billy wondered, a small smile on his face. John just laughed, that boy sounded a lot like Greg right now.
"No, get out." Sherlock snapped.
"I'll walk you to your room, if you'd like me too." Billy offered.
"GET OUT!" Sherlock exclaimed. Billy jumped back in horror, dropping into a terrified bow and scurrying out of the room without his gloves. Sherlock stood angrily, glaring at the spot where Billy had once stood as if hating himself for letting the secret get out so easily.
"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" John wondered, listening to Billy's retreating footsteps as he ran down the hall.
"Harsh, yes, but necessary." Sherlock said with a shrug.
"Poor thing probably goes through so much in a day, what with you yelling at him and all that." John pointed out. Sherlock shook his head; obviously he didn't want John to think he was a horrible master to his servants.
"I'm nice to him...sometimes." Sherlock muttered, but obviously he was trying to scan his brain, trying to think of an example to prove his point.
"Servants are people too. Obviously you should have noticed that by now?" John insisted. Sherlock just smiled, taking a step closer to John as if hoping for another kiss.
"You should go Sherlock, we'll have more visitors soon, and I don't want any more people figuring us out." John suggested. Sherlock sighed heavily, but nodded, stepping back once more and looking a bit pouty.
"I'll see you tomorrow I hope?" Sherlock wondered, his eyes alight with hope.
"I really hope so. Don't let those assassins get you tonight." John teased with a smile. Sherlock could only smile back, as if John's happiness was a contagious disease.
"I'll look forward to it." Sherlock decided, turning away from John with a dramatic sweep, even if he wasn't wearing the cape. He left the room with an aura of power to him, pulling the door shut and leaving John to stand in the room all alone, smiling idiotically to himself as he reminded himself that Sherlock was all his. That beautiful, childish, powerful king, he was in love with someone as meager and unworthy as John Watson. And that was a miracle in itself.