"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. 

Sherlock POV: Sherlock had a whole speech planned out in his head for when he got back to his room, going to tell Billy calmly and respectfully not to another living soul. Of course he wanted to be as proper as he could about it, because now Billy had blackmail on him, and if he used it then Sherlock's lifestyle could very much be ended. He was going to try to be mature, but as soon as he arrived in his room, he saw that Billy wasn't alone.
"Oh, hi Sherlock!" Molly said happily, sitting on the bed, facing the closet. Something came flying out, something that looked like Sherlock's old riding helmet, and she caught it easily, taking a look at it before throwing it into a large pile of all of Sherlock's junk.
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock snapped, walking into the room and shutting the door.
"Oh, just helping Billy with the cleaning. I've got nothing better to do." Molly admitted with a shrug. Something that looked like an old shirt came flying at her and she caught it in disgust, taking one good sniff and tossing it into another pile, one that was a bit more lumpy and moldy. Sherlock wouldn't be surprised if that pile got up and walked itself to the trash can. Sherlock growled, clenching his jaw and watching as Billy threw more and more junk out from the dark depths of his closet.
"You look rather tense." Molly decided, examining what looked like an old rusty dagger curiously. Sherlock remembered that knife; his father had given it to him for his fifth birthday, his first 'real' weapon. Sherlock had been so happy to receive such a thing, but even then he knew he could never learn how to use it. That was back when his father had been alive, when he had faith in the boy who would grow to be a failure.
"Oh, I am tense, very tense." Sherlock growled, loud enough for Billy to hear, even from the back of the closet. The junk stopped being thrown, or at least paused, and Sherlock knew that the servant was now just as scared as the king.
"What's happened?" Molly wondered, looking rather worried.
"Someone just had to come down to the servant's quarters today, and now someone knows the truth." Sherlock snapped, casting a hostile glare to the closet door.
"What, was it Billy?" Molly wondered, looking towards the door in amazement as well.
"I didn't mean to, I'm terribly sorry my lord!" Billy's voice exclaimed, echoing slightly as it traveled through the disgusting closet. Molly just smiled, shaking her head as if she didn't think it was that big of a deal.
"Well, he was bound to find out of course, he's with you every day. At least we can talk freely." Molly said with an optimistic shrug. Sherlock groaned, shaking his head angrily.
"It's not supposed to be public! Billy, fi you tell anyone I swear I will have you hanged." Sherlock warned.
"I know Sherlock, I know! It's not like I'll tell anyone." Billy insisted. Sherlock cast a doubtful look at Molly, who smiled at him sweetly, obviously trying to tell him to give this poor excuse for a servant a break. Sherlock sighed heavily, but shook his head in defeat.
"Oh whatever." He groaned, deciding that there was nothing he could do about it anyway.
"Of course I suspected your relationship the whole time, John spends all of his time peering through the keyhole during meals, there's only one person that could fascinate him so much." Billy insisted. Sherlock's ears perked up and he moved closer to the closet door hopefully.
"He really does that?" Sherlock wondered with a smile.
"Oh ya, and he makes sure he's the one that can go out and interact with the royals, he always wants to pour the wine." Billy pointed out. Sherlock smiled softly, deciding that this was a good thing, a very good thing. That meant John wanted to see him just as much as Sherlock wanted to see John, that meant that he was on John's mind a lot.
"Has he...mentioned me? At all?" Sherlock wondered, poking his head into the closet and seeing Billy trying to scrape something that looked like an old apple covered in tree sap from the floor. Why Sherlock would have something so disgusting in the depths of his closet he had no idea, but evidently it was giving the poor servant a hard time.
"Ya, I mean, not really. But you're always a topic of conversation, and he's always so happy, him and Greg Lestrade laugh and talk around as if they have some sort of inside joke." Billy admitted. Sherlock scowled, looking at Molly with a look of betrayal.
"Greg knows?!" he exclaimed. Molly held up her hands in defense, obviously trying to insist that she had nothing to do with it.
"John must have told him! He needs someone to rant to as well, doesn't he?" Molly pointed out. Sherlock frowned, but nodded. Even though he had Molly and now Billy, he still felt like it was his secret to share, and not John's. Yes John was risking somethings by being in a relationship with Sherlock, but if he tells the wrong person and they go blabbing, Sherlock's entire life could be crushed even more.
"He seems happy though? He's not...complaining?" Sherlock wondered. Billy paused his scraping, looking over at Sherlock with a smile.
"You're really in a relationship then?" he wondered. Sherlock growled, feeling the need to throw something at that imbecile although there was nothing to throw. So instead he just shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment as if to try to process his servant's stupidity.
"Yes of course we are!" Sherlock exclaimed, throwing his arms up into the air dramatically. Billy's mouth curled into a smile and he went back to scraping, obviously that was a good enough answer for him.
"I didn't know you could love." He admitted. Sherlock looked back at Molly, who was now distracted by chipping off spots of rust on the old dagger, evidently not listening to a word Billy said.
"I can most certainly love, obviously I can, what makes you say I can't? John didn't tell you, did he?" Sherlock wondered nervously, taking a step closer.
"No, of course he didn't. Just from all those women you sent away, I guess it makes sense, you being a homosexual and all. I should've seen it coming, man, just looking at you it's so obvious." Billy decided, muttering mostly to himself.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Sherlock growled, stepping closer once more.
"Well, I mean, you have so many hair brushes and you take more time than Molly does to get ready, aren't homosexuals supposed to be really feminine?" Billy wondered. Sherlock gasped overdramatically, which should obviously be proving Billy's point, but that didn't matter right now.
"Excuse you Billy, but just because I'm a homosexual does not mean I'm feminine. Yes, I like men, but that doesn't automatically mean I want to start powdering my nose and wearing high heels. I've always cared about my reputation, especially since I was a prince; I need to keep up my appearance. I'm naturally beautiful, obviously someone like you just wouldn't understand. And look at John, I mean, he's not feminine, and he loves me as well, obviously there's something...."
"Got it!" Billy exclaimed excitedly, and Sherlock just sighed.
"Don't cut me off like that, it's terrible rude, not to mention..." Sherlock's words were cut off when he was hit in the side of the head with the moldy, sap covered apple. Obviously Billy didn't get what Sherlock was saying, he had only managed to pry that miserable apple off of the floor. The servant jumped to his feet in fear, rushing over to where Sherlock was standing, growling in annoyance as the apple stuck to his face and hair.
"Billy I swear to god!" Sherlock claimed as Billy pulled the apple roughly from out of Sherlock's curls, making the king howl in pain. "What made you think it would be a good idea to throw a sap bomb at your king?" Sherlock hissed.
"I didn't mean to." Billy muttered apologetically, tossing the apple very lightly at Molly, who caught it with a disgusted look.
"Why are you even cleaning out my closet?" Sherlock growled, pulling off sap from his cheek with a miserable expression. Billy just shrugged, pulling some old clothes from a heap in the corner and throwing them to Molly, who was hit full in the face with old laundry.
"Well, I suppose you're not going to be in here much anymore, so might as well clean it out." Billy decided with a little chuckle.
"What does that even mean?" Sherlock wondered. He heard Molly laughing behind him, and he turned on his heel dramatically, glaring at her as she folded the clothes and tossed them into a pile.
"Don't laugh at me." Sherlock growled.
"I'm laughing." Molly insisted, having a terrible time trying to wipe the smile off of her face. Sherlock just scowled, crossing his arms and leaning against the racks of clothes in the closet, watching as Billy and Molly worked without once offering to chip in. There were some interesting finds in the dark depths of his closet, some books he forgot he owned, some sort of alchemy set that he had gotten for his tenth birthday, even a very nice red ruffled coat, something that looked very royal and ceremonial. In the end the closet was cleaned out with three piles, keep, wash, and trash. The wash pile was the biggest of course, but the trash pile was so sketchy looking that Sherlock didn't even want to approach it.
"So how are you coming on with buying John from the Adlers?" Molly wondered as Sherlock twirled around in his newly discovered coat. It smelled awful, of course, but  when he pulled the ruffled collar up to his chin he felt very mysterious, it was a very nice coat. 

"Oh who even knows? My mother is all for it while Mycroft insists that it would be a waste of money. I don't care about funds; John's not leaving this castle if there's anything I can do about it." Sherlock decided.
"What would happen if he did leave?" Billy wondered, finally coming of the closet and brushing off his hands. Obviously he had wished he had gloves, but it was his own fault for forgetting them in the first place.
"He's not going to." Sherlock said flatly.
"But what if he does, hypothetically?" Billy wondered. Sherlock growled, glaring at Billy through the mirror. Obviously Billy didn't notice, he was too busy trying to stuff all the newly found dirty laundry into a laundry basket, a chore that he deserved after poking around in things he shouldn't be.
"Don't talk hypothetically; I live for the most likely future." Sherlock snapped back, shedding the coat and throwing it carelessly onto the bed.
"Well I'm proud of you sir, not only for finding someone you love but being able to admit it to yourself. I think that's very brave of you, maybe even noble." Billy decided. Sherlock glared at him, having a very hard time of turning that into some sort of punishable insult.
"Go away Billy." He decided finally, shooing his hand through the air while absorbing every aspect of Billy's compliment. So Billy grabbed the overflowing laundry and walked out into the hallway, kicking the door shut with his foot and disappearing down the hall. Sherlock took this opportunity to groan heavily, flopping on the bed next to Molly so that he could stare up and see a rather unattractive angle of her lower chin.
"He's not going to leave, right? I mean, I'm the king, if worse comes to worth I can just buy him." Sherlock decided with a shrug.
"I don't think whatever Mycroft argues has any weight against both you and your mother's decision, I don't think you'll have anything to worry about." Molly assured. Sherlock nodded, all of the worst possible possibilities swirling around in his head.
"What if John catches some sort of fever and dies? What if I catch some sort of fever and die?" Sherlock wondered horrifically.
"You'll be fine Sherlock." She assured simply, brushing some stray sap out of Sherlock's little baby curls at the brink of his hairline.
"I can't be in love with him if I'm dead." Sherlock pointed out. "That would be awful."
"Would you like to marry him someday?" Molly wondered hopefully, looking down at Sherlock with a very motherly expression. Sherlock hated the mom look, he hated when Molly thought she had some sort of advantage over him. But he just sighed heavily, shrugging the best he could while laying down.
"How could I possibly, if we have a secret relationship we could never marry." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, you could always have a secret wedding." Molly offered. Sherlock smiled at that idea, imagining he and John exchanging rings in some sort of hidden corner of the rose gardens, with no one but Molly, Billy, and Greg as an audience. That would be so romantic, oh that would be wonderful.
"I'll need a queen when I grow older, when my mother passes. He couldn't be my queen; I'd have to have a real wedding with a woman, someone who I don't love." Sherlock pointed out.
"I could always just be your queen, that way we both know the marriage is fake and you can go on loving John." Molly recommended. Sherlock nodded, thinking about life when he was married to both John and Molly. That would be a very confusing life to say the least.
"Yes, that might work. But I don't want to think about all this, the future scares me." Sherlock admitted.
"I thought you said you lived for the most likely future?" Molly wondered.
"I was lying to make him wrong." Sherlock said with a pout.
"A very Sherlock thing to do." Molly agreed with a small laugh. Sherlock's frowned deepened, kicking his feet a little from where they hung off of the bed.
"He would never leave me, right?" Sherlock wondered.
"Stop thinking about all of this Sherlock, you're panicking, you're psyching yourself out. Just relax, he loves you, you love him, everything else is just water under the bridge." Molly assured.
"But what if he hates me?" Sherlock wondered. Molly just laughed, shaking her head and poking Sherlock's nose playfully.
"You need to go down to dinner Sherlock, your family will be wondering where you are." She pointed out.
"I love him so much." Sherlock whispered, staring at the ceiling and pretending he hadn't heard anything about dinner. Molly just sighed in agreement, smiling down at Sherlock teasingly.
"I know you do Sherlock, but just because you're in love doesn't mean you don't have your regular responsibilities." She insisted. Sherlock groaned heavily but nodded, pulling himself off of the bed and staring at his reflection in the mirror. He thought he looked good, but did John think the same? This was all so confusing; who knew relationships would be so difficult?