But the night didn’t last long, for some reason. There was no light in the window when someone came pounding on the door. Greg groaned in his sleep, not waking up, but I shot out of bed, thinking it must be John. Instead, it was a solider, wearing armor, carrying a sword, the whole deal.
“Sir, I’m sorry to bother you, but the queen is dying. Prince Watson will need support.” The soldier said. Fear flooded me, but I nodded, letting the guard rush off to where ever he needed to be next. I ran to Greg’s bedside, shaking him awake.
“The queen’s dying, we need to go!” I exclaimed. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. He shot out of bed faster than he should have, throwing on a jacket and running out the door without a word. I had no idea where we were going, I just ran after him, surprised I managed to move so fast on my new legs. Greg stormed to another wooden door, this one larger, with golden metal winding through in different patterns and engravings. But it wasn’t empty, there were people and guards flooding in and out, the sounds of people crying, the castle was fully awake.
“Move aside, move!” Greg demanded, pushing through everyone to get into the room. I followed, taking advantage of the parted crowd behind his back. John was sitting at the bedside, holding his mother’s hand. She looked awful, her skin ghostly white, her eyes and cheeks sunken in, and she kept coughing into a handkerchief. I wasn’t an expert on humans, or human diseases, but I knew that they were right, this woman was dying. She looked too young to die, wrinkles, her hair still had color in it, she couldn’t be older than my own mother. John looked exhausted, but he kept a caring smile on his face as he said things I couldn’t hear. My heart broke for him, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like, to watch someone you care about die. On the other side of the bed was another man, also looking tired. The resemblance between John and who had to be his father was striking, the blonde hair, hazel eyes, even their noses looked alike. But what matched most was their expressions, false hope put on as a show to hide their inner suffering. The woman coughed again and a woman in a white outfit came over, taking the handkerchief away and replacing it with a new one. On the old on I could see blood stains covering it. It seemed she was coughing up blood. The room was silent except for crying and whispering, and Greg and I stood to the side, not wanting to interfere. There was nothing we could do now anyway. The queen muttered something, but it was lost in coughs. I had to look away when I saw blood splatter on the blankets. And then her head dropped down into the pillow, her tortured eyes staring to the ceiling but not seeing. She was still. The room was broken with John’s pitiful scream, a scream that made my heart break in half. He was pulled back by numerous guards and nurses, all with tears in their eyes, but they couldn’t risk getting the prince sick as well. I felt a tear slide down my face at the sound of the sobbing, even though I didn’t know the queen her death turned the kingdom to tears. I saw John run, sprinting out the door crying uncontrollably, screaming at people to get out of the way. I glanced at Greg once before running after him, worried about what he might do. I wasn’t an expert on these halls, but I knew he wasn’t going back to his room. And somehow, someway I was ahead of Greg, sprinting after the prince. But he was a lot faster than both of us, even though he was a lot shorter, and the depression probably gave him extra horsepower. He flew out the main gates, across the bridge and over the sloping lawns. The town was still asleep, they weren’t aware of the tragedy, the lights off and silent. I glanced back at Greg, who looked like he was suffering from running so much, but I knew whatever John was doing there were no good intentions. I heard a splash, even though I didn’t see it, I knew he was at the dock. As if it was instinct, I ripped the buttons off of my shirt, throwing it to the ground and running down the sandy beach, clambering onto the wooden dock and not hesitating to jump into the now still water. I held my breath, back above my home, but I wasn’t here on a peace mission. My eyes burned with the saltwater, but I kept them open, squinting against the mucky darkness. I saw seaweed, bubbles erupting under my nose as I lost hold of the one breath I had saved. Suddenly I needed air; I couldn’t stay under this long and still no sign of the distressed prince. I kicked to the surface, gasping for breath and spotting Greg on the dock, looking in but not able to do anything to help. I dived back under, determined to rescue John with no consent for my own life. I dove deeper than I had before, holding my breath longer. If I imagined enough I could almost see my coral down deep, when in reality I could barely see a foot in front of me. And then, out of the darkness, I saw an unmoving figure. John, his hair being carried by the water, floating motionlessly through the waves. I swam to him, grabbing him around the waist and using every last energy to push us to the surface. It seemed so far, but somehow our heads broke surface. I gasped for breath, holding onto John as his head fell onto my shoulder. I hoped with every fiber in my heart that he wasn’t dead, only unconscious. We collapsed on the shore, ocean water dripping into the dry sand. Greg raced over, pushing me aside and started to pump John’s chest with the palms of his hands. It didn’t seem to be working, whatever he was trying to do, John’s head just rolled to the side. But then he shook, and with one great cough, water exploded into the air from his mouth, a small waterfall. He gasped for air, his chest heaving up and down as he looked around. I didn’t have time to celebrate, or feel relived, because at the first available moment he started screaming, pushing Greg into the sand and trying to jump to his feet. Instinctively I jumped onto him, holding his legs down with my feet and his shoulders down with my hands. But that didn’t cover his arms. He was punching me, clawing at my skin and screaming at me.
“LET ME DIE! JUST LET ME GO WITH HER! LET ME DIE!” he kept repeating, so loud my ears were ringing. But I didn’t let him die, I couldn’t let him escape, I help him down, pressed into the sand where the only thing he could hurt was me, which wasn’t that big of a deal. I don’t know how long we lay there, he just kept fighting me. Greg stood by, watching with tears streaming down his face. Eventually John lost hope; he just collapsed into more tears under me, hopelessness sinking in. He didn’t say anything, he stopped fighting, and he just cried. There was nothing I could say that would make any difference, no one spoke, we just stood there and watched as his entire world crumbled beneath him.

                It took a while for me to finally trust him to get up. He stopped crying and very calmly asked me to please take him to the castle, but Greg still looked suspicious. In the end though, I got to my feet, holding out a hand to help him up. He took it thankfully, pulling his arms around himself to preserve whatever body heat he had. The ocean water was freezing, and both of us suffering majorly by the chilled wind slapping our skin. That’s why I took my shirt of before I jumped in. John looked up at the castle, where now there were numerous lights on. The towns people seemed to be getting the news also, a couple of windows started to glow with the light of the flickering fire. I walked over to where the purple shirt lay, picking it up and brushing off the dirt. But instead of protecting myself from the cold, I walked over to where John was, seemingly paralyzed by the events of the say, and draped it around his shoulders in an attempt to get him comfortable.
“Should we go back up?” Greg asked softly. John nodded, looking at the ground in shame. It might be starting to sink in that he had tried to take his own life, but then again, he seemed pretty enthusiastic about it. The three of us walked up to the castle, a large reminder of the sadness that was occurring.
John walked in front of us, dragging his feet and pulling the shirt around him thankfully, huddled in a protective little ball. I felt bad for him, but I realized there was something else in my heart. It had changed from blind love to care, before I even spoke to him I knew I loved him, but now that I fully knew him, talked to him face to face, I cared for him immensely, I knew that everything I did for that bloody prince was worth it. It was a tragedy that he was human and I was just an impostor. Greg and I walked side by side, watching as John walked through the unguarded doors, everyone was up with the queen or the king, helping in any way they could. We walked back to the room, John walking through the door and sinking onto the bed in defeat. Greg and I stood near the wall, not sure what to do except watch over him. In truth there was nothing we could do unless we could bring back the dead. The rest of the night was miserable. Greg and I sat on the couch in John’s room while he cried quietly into his pillow. I wanted to comfort him in some way, to hold his close and tell him that everything would be okay, but that would be a lie. Nothing was okay, and it wouldn’t be for a while. No one slept that night, there were constant footsteps out in the hallway, people talking and running this way and that. When morning finally came, sunlight came flooding in the windows, but it wasn’t welcoming or happy in any way. It only reminded us of the tragedies that occurred last night. I had dried off for the most part; my hair was a little damp if I dug my fingers to the roots. The chill I hadn’t noticed before made me shiver, but John was still wrapped in my shirt and I was too polite to ask for it back. He had fallen asleep, by some miracle, and wasn’t moving very much. Greg was drifting off, his eyes fluttering. I got up from the couch; Greg didn’t pay me any attention as I slipped out of the room. I was a servant now, and it was only fitting that I get breakfast for everyone. People kept giving my odd looks, and I assume it was because I was shirtless, or that everyone was just tired of running around all night. One young lady actually ran into a corner because she was watching me, dropping fresh white sheets onto the floor. I stopped to help pick them up, but didn’t talk or stay long. I wanted to get food to John before he woke up, as an extra little ‘the world is good’ type thing. I walked into the kitchen, but there weren’t many other people there. The buffet was out, but at this time I’d imagine a lot more servants should be getting breakfast for their masters. I loaded three plates, one for John, one for Greg, and one for me. I actually managed to pour three glasses of the orange juice, the stuff I had previously spilled. I walked back to the room, the food piled on a tray, feeling quite proud of myself as I opened the door back up. Now both of them were asleep, so I set the tray on the table and sat in a lone chair, watching John’s head roll slightly back and forth in his sleep. He was beautiful, truly, even when he was asleep and slightly drooling into his pillow. My heart broke for him, to think that his life wasn’t worth anything, to think that just drowning himself would solve any of his problems. It was a real tragedy, I wanted him to know how much I adored him, how much I loved and cared for him. Maybe if he’d know how much I did to actually be with him now he’d understand his true value. But I couldn’t tell him, maybe he and Greg were nice enough not to kill me on the spot, but word would travel and I’d either be killed or trapped in a cage for the rest of my life. I didn’t want to be an animal humans ogle over in a zoo. It took a while, but after a while John started to move, his arms twitching and his hazel eyes opening up to the world again. The first thing he did was make eye contact with me, making my heart flourish and sending warmth creeping up my face. But I put one of my fingers to my lips, nodding towards where Greg’s head swung back onto the couch, snoring away. John nodded and closed his eyes once more, as if the world and it’s problems would go away if he couldn’t see them.
“Do you want breakfast?” I asked quietly. I doubted a little bit of conversation wouldn’t wake Greg, at this point I doubted a nuclear explosion would even make his stir.
“I guess so.” John muttered, sitting up against the headboard. I noticed that, instead of sitting in the middle, he sat off to the side, so that if someone else wanting to sit with him they could. I hoped that someone could be me. I handed him a plate full of breakfast food and a glass of orange juice. John studied the food.
“Eggs, bacon, and pancakes, you’re getting the hang of this!” he said proudly. But his smile was forced; in fact it was so false it almost looked like a grimace. I smiled back, hoping my fake smile was more convincing.
“You might want this back.” He said, stopping me from walking away. I turned back to face him, seeing he was holding up a folded, sandy, and slightly wet purple shirt.
“Thanks.” I muttered, taking it and holding it up. It didn’t looked very pleasant, and I would prefer to wash it before actually wearing it, but if John wanted me to, I must.
“You’re extra brave if you’re actually going to wear that thing.” John pointed out. I eyed him with confusion, trying to keep my mind off of the fact that he called me brave. My arm was already in the sleeve.  “You really don’t have to, it’s disgusting.” He added. I nodded, taking my arm away thankfully and folding it into a neat little square. There was a bit of awkward silence, I fiddled with the shirt in my hand and wondered if I should go back to my chair again. “Um, you can sit, if you want.” John said, looking to the space he left empty. My heart let out firecrackers, making my spine all tingly, but I didn’t let it show on the outside. I simply nodded with a straight face, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the fluffy mattress.
“Are you okay sir?” I asked, feeling a bit odd calling him sir, but I didn’t know if I was allowed to call him John to his face.
“No Sherlock, you know I’m not okay.” John sighed, poking at his food unenthusiastically before dropping his fork onto the plate.
“I’m sorry about your mother, I know how you feel.” I admitted.
“You do?” John asked. I nodded.
“My father was killed, in a fishing accident. He got tangled in a net, drowned. It took us a while just to find the body.” I admitted, looking off into the distance, remembering my awful memories.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” John muttered.
“So, if there’s anything you need, at all, just tell me.” I said. Even though it was my job, that was honest, anything at all. If he needed someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, or even someone to beat up and blame for the death, I would be there.
“Always.” John agreed. “While we’re admitting our feelings here, I have to say thank you and sorry for the whole thing at the lake. I couldn’t killed you, and I see now that I obviously tried,” his eyes flicked down to the scratches and newly formed bruises all over my upper-body, results of him trying to escape and fling himself in the ocean. “And if you hadn’t been there I would be dead as well.” Now I couldn’t stop the blush that overtook my face, smiling at his little complement.
“I had to.” I muttered, not finding a logical and modest thing to say after something like that.
“Most people would’ve given up.” John pointed out.
“I’m not most people I guess.” I shrugged. I wasn’t even a human, but he didn’t need to know that. My heart was beating so fast, it was just us (sleeping Greg isn’t counted), talking about deep thoughts like some sappy love drama on TV. And at the moment all I wanted to be in was some sappy love story, because they always ended in true love. Although I doubted there was someone crazy enough to actually think something like this would ever happen. Before John could say anything though, the door flung open and a woman I have never seen before walked in. I knew she couldn’t be the queen, so she had to be his sister, considering no other citizen in this town would be brave enough to storm into the prince’s chambers like that.
“JOHN!” she called, but then saw John and I sitting together and froze. But instead of trying to pretend she never walked in, like most people should do or learn to do, she started laughing to herself, not looking even the slightest bit embarrassed.
“Well, I see you’ve gotten over your grief quite quickly.” she said, looking at me with amusement. John took one look at me, and then back at her, as if trying to make sure he was getting the right message.
“Are you out of your bloody mind?! Absolutely not…why would you ever…” John stammered. I was quite confused myself; I didn’t see what the big problem was considering we weren’t even that close. Greg was awake now, the sudden entrance of whoever this was had made sure of that.
“Hello Harry.” He muttered, rubbing his eyes. John scowled at his sister, who looked much too cheery since her mother just died.
“And who is this?” she asked, walking over to where I sat, flicking one of the curls off of my forehead with her finger. I frowned at her, backing up a little bit out of her reach.
“That’s Sherlock, shipwrecked prince from Coral. Greg’s tutoring him to be a servant.” John said honestly.
“Learning more than that I presume.” She giggled. I looked at her with confusion, but John just made an odd growling sound in his throat.
“Don’t try to hide your sadness with humor Harry, I see right through it.” he pointed out. For a second Harry’s face flashed sadness, almost as bad as John’s, but snapped right back to the humor she had before like it hadn’t happened.
“I just came down to make sure you were okay.” She said honestly. I doubted she had heard of his polar plunge, and I wanted to keep it like that. in fact it would be better if the three of us were the only ones to ever know.
“I’m not okay, and neither are you.” John pointed out. I felt very awkward in the middle of their conversation, literally in the middle, they were talking over me. “At least I have friends to help me out.” John added as a little extra pay back.
“If you must know, Clara came back yesterday; she told me a broken arm couldn’t keep us apart.” Harry said with a dreamy voice. Clara must be the high heel victim John told me about before.
“Is that all Harry?” John asked with an annoyed voice.
“If you say it is.” Harry decided.
“In that case, goodbye.” John said with a small, sarcastic smile. Harry rolled her eyes, but obeyed her bother and left the room. “Don’t even bother thinking about anything Harry says.” John muttered, his cheeks suddenly very red.
“Did you get us breakfast Sherlock?” Greg asked, noticing the food sitting on the table.
“Well, I thought that you guys might get hungry.” I said honestly, not knowing if he was proud or upset with me.
“You’re going to be an amazing servant someday.” Greg said with an approving smile, getting up from the couch and getting his tray of food.
“I certainly hope so.” I muttered.
“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about being stuck with Harry.” John laughed.
“Is Clara that stupid, why would she ever come back?” Greg asked.
“Apparently they are in a secret relationship.” John sighed. Greg didn’t look surprised, actually quite bored with the information.
“She’ll be murdered when the king finds out.” Greg decided, but he didn’t even seem too worried about that, as if he was actually hoping that would happen.
“Nah, I’m willing to bet father would fund the marriage.” John shrugged, as if he had accepted that long ago.  I sat here silently, I had no input in this situation nor did I have any idea who these people were.
“How are you feeling?” Greg asked. He didn’t address the question to either of us, but I knew it was for John to answer.
“Not suicidal if that’s what you mean.” John shrugged, putting his head on the headboard of the bed.
“You gave us quite a scare last night, good thing Sherlock knows how to swim.” Greg pointed out, giving me a thankful kind of glance. If only he had any idea how much I know how to swim…
“I was just doing my job.” I shrugged.
“Saving my stupid butt was not in the job description.”  John pointed out, putting his hand on my head and ruffling my hair like a dog. Words cannot describe how my heart felt at that moment, like I was floating in a new world entirely made of rainbows and other pathetic things that represent happiness. But instead of losing my cool and kissing him right there I just smiled shyly, looking at floor so he couldn’t see my eyes spouting fireworks.
“The Queen’s death will affect the whole town, it’s a real tragedy.” Greg decided. John nodded solemnly.
“You two can have the day off, I bet the whole town will, so it’s only fair. We all need a day of mourn.” John decided. That didn’t improve my mood at all, my second day working and I wasn’t even allowed to. I knew Mycroft would be worried sick about me, and before long I had to come back just to tell him I was okay. But I wouldn’t go back there unless I had a good reason to return back up here, so I had to wait until John loved me. So, instead of just sitting around, I excused myself from the room and went off to the armory, where John’s swords were still waiting to be polished and sharpened again. I wouldn’t sit the day around and wallow in bad feelings. I didn’t know the queen, I was sad about her death of course, but I knew there was work to be done.