Their conversation really messed up John's mind, how could two different times happen at once? Does everything freeze over there, or does everything wake up over here? Was all the times working up until 2015? Was the Revolutionary War happening right now, were the Pyramids being built as a band of tourists celebrated their three thousand year old birthday? Did all time stop at 2015 or did it keep going, where they in the past as well? Was his great great grandson just dying at age 100 as he pondered this? John decided to just let it go, there were some mysteries he would never find out, time, how he got there, and just what was going on in Sherlock's head. He blew out the flame in the oil lamp, plunging the room into darkness and curling up onto the bags of food, doing his best to sleep as much as he could without complicated dreams.

John woke up before his eyes opened, wondering what woke him until he felt an odd presence, someone, or something, was watching him. His eyes flew open, feeling perfectly capable of throwing punches when he saw Sherlock stumbled back into the railing, just about to set a plate of food on a bag of food.

 "What the heck do you think you're doing?" John demanded, closing his eyes again and trying to snuggle back into the makeshift bed, but it was a lost cause.

"I was giving you breakfast until you went into ninja mode. Don't kill me next time I try to give you food." Sherlock grumbled.

"You sound a bit grumpy." John observed, giving up on getting more sleep and opening his eyes once more.

"I am grumpy; it's another day with Irene."

 "I thought you had today off." John pointed out, sitting up and happily accepted the breakfast plate. "I have tonight off, this is going to be very busy, today and tomorrow, getting ready for the ball." Sherlock pointed out.

"So they're not making you work the ball?" John asked.

"No, they said it's more of a servant thing and I was more a part of the family, but I know it's only because if I'm not available Irene will throw a fit." Sherlock sighed.
 "You should be happy then, you get two nights off in a row."

"Yes, I suppose I should be happy." Sherlock shrugged. "But it's still a lot of work."

 "It's the price to pay I suppose." John shrugged.

 "Easy for you to say, you'll be sitting up here all day." Sherlock pointed out.

"Don't try to think it's all fun and games up here. It's hot, boring, and I don't have food or water." John defended.

"I should probably get you some then."

"That would help a bit." John agreed.

 "Feed the animals would you?" Sherlock asked as he got to his feet, about to climb down the ladder to get the food for the rest of the day. John finished up his own breakfast and nodded, setting the plate down and following him down the ladder and into the barn.
"I'll be back." Sherlock decided, flashing John a quick smile before disappearing out the door. John sighed, carrying bundles of hay to each of the stalls, where the animals pretty much attacked him for it. The stench coming from the stalls was strong enough to tell him that he had to clean them in the free time, which would give him stuff to do, but if the goats got out without Sherlock to help then he would have way too much of a problem on his hands. Once the last buckets of water were filled Sherlock showed up, very convenient timing for him, his arms filled with assorted lunch things.There was the typical bread, tomatoes, and cheese, along with a tall glass of water.

 "Here you are you free loader." Sherlock said, but there was a smile on his face.

"I managed to feed the animals without them eating me instead." John pointed out, throwing the bucket into the water with a splash. Sherlock walked over and handed him the food, pulling a piece of straw out of John's hair, his eyes twinkling.

"You're a loser." He decided with a laugh, flicking it onto the ground.

"I'll be cleaning the stalls too, and I believe that should earn me my food."John pointed out.

"Thank you very much John, I'd be very overwhelmed with work if it weren't for you." Sherlock admitted, making John smile proudly.

"Didn't know you noticed."

 "Course I do, I really do appreciate it." Sherlock assured, smiling radiantly down at John. John smiled back up at him, but he doubted his smile was white at all, or his teeth were as straight, he was still yet to get braces.

 "I should be going, big day ahead, lots to do." Sherlock groaned, turning away as if repelling himself from doing anything stupid and heading for the door.
"I'll be here." John shrugged.
 "See you at five o'clock." Sherlock agreed, closing the door behind him. John sighed, looking at the shovels and wheel barrels with a sigh, the only things to actually talk to being the animals. He spent the rest of the day in the barn, as promised, cleaning out the stalls the best he could without having too many accidents. He stepped in some nasty substances a couple of times, and he was almost pushed over the fence by the mean horse, but everything else went rather smoothly. The goats of course listened to no one so he skipped over their stall entirely, but finally the poop was shoveled and dumped and he was done for now. John went back up to the loft, imagining he smelled worse than any of the animals there, really wanting a shower or simply a dip in the stream. But he had told Sherlock he'd be in the barn, so there he stayed, eating his lunch when he felt hungry and occupying his time the best he could. John could only imagine how terrible Sherlock's day must be going, Irene pestering him constantly, having to clean up for rich people and then go play violin for rich people all night. The life of a servant was hard, and John only knew second hand slavery. Finally the door opened, just past five, as Sherlock had promised, and he looked worse than he had in a while.

"I am so DONE WITH HER!" Sherlock yelled, kicking a pile of hay over so that it spilled over the compacted dirt floor.

"Whoa, Sherlock, keep your voice down." John insisted, scaling the ladder and appearing at his side. Sherlock was paler than usual, beads of sweat still clinging to his face, wearing a look of pure rage. "All I ever hear is her problems, all I do is fix them and she flirts with me while I do every last bloody thing. I do everything for that witch! The least she could do was leave me alone!" Sherlock growled, looking very anxious to take down another pile of hay.

"I know, she's awful, but we're a day closer to getting rid of her. She won't be at the pub, only me and you." John assured, patting his shoulder awkwardly to try to calm his friend down. Sherlock nodded, bringing his breathing down to a semi normal rate and sighing.

"We both need to freshen up a little bit, don't want to be smelling like animals." He pointed out. 

"Ya I know, I smell like crap, but then again you smell like perfume and disinfectant, and I can't tell which one is worse."
"Don't I smell nice, it's French, imported from France itself and made purely of rose essence, 500 for one bottle."
"Oh so she told you?" John laughed.
"Oh yes, and I could go on about her bloody shampoo for about an hour, which is only half the time she told me about it." Sherlock sighed.
"Is it safe to go out there?" John asked.
"They're all in the living room, enjoying their rich tea and biscuits; we'll eat at the pub I suppose."
"Sounds good, I guess I should wash this out then, mind if I go down to the stream?" John asked, gesturing to his shirt.
"That was my thought exactly." Sherlock agreed. "And we need not get water, I am a free man until tomorrow morning." he added proudly, puffing out his chest a little bit.
"You hero." John muttered, rolling his eyes and starting out the barn door. As Sherlock had promised the windows were empty of any rich folks, so they snuck down to the edge of the forest, disappearing under the shadowy canopy of leaves.
"I'm just going to say now that I am not actually bathing in the river." John pointed out.
"Oh god I hope not." Sherlock agreed.
"Good." John said, a bit relieved that both of them would stay decently clothed. When they got to the river Sherlock spared no time, peeling off his shirt and jumping right into the water. John was once again a bit awkward about it, but he took his shirt off as well and joined Sherlock, wringing the smelly fabric out in the cool water. It was a great change, from hot, stuffy barn air to the nice stream, and he was almost positive it would smell better. Sherlock was now dunking his head under the water, getting his hair all wet and scrubbing at it with his fingers. John couldn't help thinking that Irene would pay to have a first row seat to witness this. He looked down at the blue mark on his own chest, it had only webbed out more, almost stretching to his bellybutton, looking nasty. It was internal, like some blue substance was stretching out over him, but what was it? Not blood, that stuff spread out over large areas, maybe creepy angel toxin? His guess was as good as anyone else's, maybe not Henry Knight's, but that wacko is in quarantine, probably dead already.
"Don't get all worried about that thing John; I'm sure it's nothing." Sherlock assured, snapping John out of his own pity.
"I'm not worried." He lied, making Sherlock laugh a little bit. His hair was soaking wet, hanging down over his face like a wet dog, partially hiding his eyes.
"I don't even have to know you to know you're lying." Sherlock pointed out,making John smile innocently.
"I'm sure it's nothing, but..." his sentence was cut off with a splash of water hitting his face, making John immediately splash back, trying to act like he was mad. There was a bit of a splash fight, John getting water up his nose atone point, but trying his best to get Sherlock back. When he attempted to splash Sherlock with a kick of his feet, he came back up to examine his work to see that Sherlock had disappeared. John wasn't worried, but he scanned the shores to make sure he wasn't going to get pelted with mud balls.
"Sherlock?" he called. And just as the word left his mouth Sherlock popped out of the water right in front of him, pushing John's head under the water with a small laugh. John tried to swim up; terrified that Sherlock was actually trying to drown him for some reason. He struggled and swam, but Sherlock had a good hold of him around the shoulders, he wasn't going anywhere. In a desperate attempt to free himself John elbowed Sherlock in the stomach, making the grasping arms release. John kicked to the surface, spitting and gasping for air and officially furious at Sherlock.
"What in the world, you could've killed me!" he yelled, so loud that a flock of birds crowded in the trees took off in a frenzy of black wings.
"Of course I wouldn't have let you drown!" Sherlock said with a teasing smile on his face. But John really didn't care about the playful sparkle in his eyes,or his pearly white teeth, or his sagging wet hair, and definitely not how close they actually where. He pretty much attacked, not caring what he was hitting and kicking as long as it was Sherlock. Soon the smile disappeared off of Sherlock's face when John barely missed punching him in the nose, instead splashing water into his face. Sherlock was backing up, ducking John's attacks and trying to keep a smile on.
"I'm sorry, okay I'm sorry!" Sherlock decided, but that wasn't good enough for John, he wanted revenge. With a leap and a small gasp from Sherlock, John pushed him back, the two of them falling out of the water and into the muddy shore. It took a moment to erase his anger and realize that he was lying on top of Sherlock, pinning his shoulders to the mud.
"Too late to say sorry right?" Sherlock asked, an irritating smile now reappearing on his face.
"Yes." John muttered, rolling to his feet and retrieving his shirt, which was drying on a rock. Sherlock crawled to his feet, rubbing his fingers against his back to find that it was covered in mud. John worked on drying his shirt off while Sherlock once again cleaned himself off, still smiling for some reason,making John kind of mad. He wasn't actually about to kill him was he? Of course not, maybe it was just anger built up, but why did it take an elbow to the stomach to get him back to his senses?