In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

[ihadabadday]

No one knew how long Gods had walked among the mortals. They just knew they had. Some remained in their country of origin, some branched out and traveled. Others started business or charities. Some just went through existence simply being. Belief didn't have much to do with how the Gods chose to lead their lives.

This tale though, it focuses on the Greek Gods of old and Mount Olympus (which is a real place and traditionally is where Zeus is said to live with Hera).

John Watson didn't care for the politics of the Gods that surrounded them every day. He had other things to focus on, to pay attention to. Like medical school, and then the military. It wasn't until he was shot and laying in the desert, bleeding, did he whisper things to the God of Death, to Hades. To a god he didn't believe in. Blood whispers they were often called. And gods hardly paid attention to them, most believed they were the whispers of dying men.

But John Watson survived when others with the same injury had died. What was different about him?

He returned to London on an army pension and a cane. He shuffled through his life, a constant ache in his chest, like there was something missing. Though he had little to no idea of what was missing. He helped others where he could, donating his time and what little money. A homeless veteran (it boiled him so to see those who helped their country be left behind) once called him a beacon of light.

A beacon of light huh?

Most days he didn't feel like one. Most days his mood was dark and everything was shit.

One night when he was limping slowly back to his dismal bedsit, something caught his attention. He glanced down an alley and saw a tall man dressed in black, being mugged by some ratty youth. The man was far too posh for this neighborhood. So why was he here? But that didn't matter. John, on two strong legs, charged into the alley and used his cane to knock the criminal away. He didn't notice, but there seemed to be a light around him, an otherworldy aura to him.

He held the cane like a sword and pointed it at the would be thief. "You need to leave here." John commanded. It had been easy for some to forget that he had been Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers in Her Majesty's Army.

Comments

[seaweed_writes]

One nice thing about being a god, he would walk around without being seen by the humans. Usually he didn't give a shit , but it was nice to prowl around sometimes.

And this was a time.

It wasn't too hard to find John. As soon as he came into view, Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks. It was John... HIS John.. He was a little younger, less worry lines around the eyes, a little lower hairline, but this was HIS John.. He wanted so badly to reveal himself, but that would have been a terrible idea, so he watched the man work.

This was one soul that Sherlock was not going to get today, John saved his life and his arm.

[ihadabadday]

After his shift at the hospital, John went to a nearby pub that most of the doctors and nurses went to. He waved them off and sat at the bar. He ordered a beer and ran a hand through his hair. The day had been... Hard. They had lost some patients, saved others. But it was what came with being a doctor.

He picked up the beer and took a sip. He wasn't hungry, but he knew he needed to eat something. Maybe.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock shadowed him for the rest of the day. Bonus, he even got to reap a few souls that John wasn't able to save. So he could use the excuse that he was gathering souls, he thought with a smile.

When John went into the pub, Sherlock stopped outside. He waited for a while, made himself visible in an empty alleyway, then walked in, taking the seat next to John.

One other good thing about being a god, he could get John drunk and he would always be fine.

"Pint of stout, please." He told the bartender getting the same thing John had.

He looked over to John and nodded his head, giving him a little smile, a nod of greeting. It was what humans did, apparantly.

[ihadabadday]

He glanced at the man and there was a flash. A flash of something...? He smiled and then turned back to his beer. He downed the contents of his glass and ordered another.

"You remind me of someone." John told the strange man sitting next to him. The handsome man sitting next to him.

[seaweed_writes]

Hmmm.. that was interesting. There was almost a moment of recognition, then like a dagger in his breast, it was gone again.

"This guys tab is on me." He told the bartender, then turned towards John. "You look like you could use a drink or two, or three." He told the doctor.

"Sherlock." He offered a hand to the man.

[ihadabadday]

John reached out and took the man's hand, shaking it. "John Watson." He answered, "This may sound odd, but you remind me of an imaginary friend I had once upon a time."

The blonde chuckled and then ordered another beer.

[seaweed_writes]

Oh, by the gods, touching his hand again, it was electric, so many memories came flooding back to him, his touch, his smell, the noises he made.

No. He couldn't think about that now. This was not his John. Not yet, at least.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh, was he a devastatingly handsome tall bloke as well?" He asked with a little smirk.

[ihadabadday]

John laughed, a flush crossing his face and going to his ears. "Yes. But he was the God of Death..." He answered. Everyone knew about the gods that walked among them. But that one, very few knew about or had seen.

He nodded his thanks to the bartender for the second beer.

[seaweed_writes]

If Sherlock could have gone more pale, then he would have. What did he already remember?

"As a child, your imaginary friend was Hades?" He asked, trying to sound incredulous. "That seems like a pretty odd friend to have. I've heard that the only people that see him are the people who are about to die. I've... studied the gods a bit." he smiled. It wasn't a lie, really.

Sherlock finished his beer and got a second, not wanting to seem like he was trying to get John drunk, though he really kind of was.

[ihadabadday]

"Odd I know... But my imaginary friend was there for me. I didn't have the best childhood. He was what I had." John didn't know why he was opening up to a stranger.

But it felt right. Comfortable.

[seaweed_writes]

He had watched John grow up, an alcoholic father- a mother who was distant, a sister who came out as a lesbian and was kicked out, found on the street dead. Sherlock had personally ferried her to the Pool of Souls as well, something he didn't have to do, but did occasionally for people of note.

He had never come up to the Overworld when John was a child, he had never physically been there, but he had watched as often as he could, sometime shirking his duties, which of course roused the ire of Zeus- who knew this man was a reincarnation of Sherlock;s lost .. well whatever they had been.

"This.. imaginary Hades. Did you talk to him?" He asked. He knew it was a bit dangerous to try to get to personal an pry too much, but he had had 2 beers (almost) and his tongue was getting a bit looser, it seemed.

[ihadabadday]

John finished his beer and made a humming noise. Did he try and talk to his imaginary friend? Did he want to dwell on those memories?

He let out a breath. "Sometimes. Until my father caught me and beat me for it. Saying boys shouldn't have imaginary friends. Did I want to end up like the gays on the streets?" There was a bitterness to his tone. And a spark of gold across him.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock was making himself look like he was breathing. He could breathe, if he wanted to. He made his human like body to have all of the normal organs that a human would have, but of course he didn't need them.

But that actually made him catch his breath, that flash of gold. There was still some of Ares, that buggerer, inside of him. Oh course The Fates said that he would, but this was physical proof.

"I... am sorry to hear that." He really was trying to be like a human, a human would feel bad about that, he figured.

[ihadabadday]

He snorted. "No need to apologize. My father was a bastard." John answered. He looked at his watch and debated a lot.

He then looked at the incredibly handsome man next to him. "Do you want to get out of here and have sex?" He asked bluntly.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock almost fell off of his chair. John didn't seem that drunk yet. Either he was more drunk that he seemed or.. well, he wasn't sure what else it would be..

Oh, to be able to have sex with John again.. Of course, he would have to be a whole hell of a lot more careful. He was, after all, a mortal, one that could be reborn, but he would die like any normal human would if he had been subjected to what Sherlock had done to him in Hell those two times.

He actually shrunk his genitalia just a little bit while John was not paying attention. he had to make sure that he wasn't too big.

Shit.

Sherlock had his office, but he didn't have an actual flat in London. There had never been a need to have one. He went back to Hell to rest and recuperate after being in the Overworld for too long.

He would have to find a flat, and soon.

"How about we go to yours? My place is a dump."

[ihadabadday]

John grinned at him. "Pay the tab and come along handsome." The day coupled with the two beers he had. While he wasn't drunk... He needed to let go.

He hailed them a cab and boldly pushed Sherlock into the back of it. He climbed in and gave his address to the cabbie. John wasted no time in crowding Sherlock's space to kiss the man.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock threw well enough for the beers plus a more than generous tip on the bar, and trailed behind John to a cab.

He was shoved in with an "oof" he fell into the seat and was immediately set upon by John. Of course if he had been a normal human, he would have told him to not go so fast.

But he had been waiting almost a century of this, and he was tired of waiting.

He eagerly kissed John back, nibbling his teeth along John's lower lip. His hands went to John's jacket, and under, rubbing at the wooly jumper.

"OI! Stop makin' out back there. This is a cab, not a hotel room!" The cabbie yelled at him.

Sherlock wanted to kill the man then and there, but he couldnt not in front of John, so he backed off and sat back.

[ihadabadday]

John huffed but settled next to Sherlock. "Spoil sport." He muttered under his breath. The blonde put his hand on Sherlock's knee and squeezed.

He felt anxious, like there wasn't enough time, that he needed it now. Whatever it was.

So he leaned in and kissed Sherlock's neck before moving his head and nipping at the man's earlobe. "You look like you have a big cock." He breathed into the man's ear.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock shivered. He could have as big of a cock as John wanted. But he had to guess how much John could take without it being too much.. He adjusted himself just a bit, guessing that the size that he was now would be big but not too big. At least he hoped.

"And you want to find out, don't you?" He replied, his voice dropping to a low, rumbling timbre without Sherlock even thinking about it.

Oh, by the gods, this ride was insufferably long.

[ihadabadday]

He shivered at the sound of his voice. Christ. John put his hand over Sherlock's groin and squeezed. "More than anything."

He wasn't normally like this. Normally he didn't jump into bed with a stranger. But this man. This enigma of a man. He groaned and kissed Sherlock.

They were getting close to his flat.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock, fuck the cabbie, kissed John back, not quite as passionate as before, but still deeply and passionately. Oh how he missed the feel and smell of John around him. They had only kissed once, and now that he was getting it again, he was fairly sure that he couldn't not have this now.

Finally. FINALLY the cab stopped. Sherlock threw some money at the man. He didn't really need it anyways. He got out of the car, John was right behind him, and the cab sped off. He looked up at the building, then over to John, wanting to get inside as fast as possible.

[ihadabadday]

John led him to the elevator after getting them in the building. He lived on the fifth floor. He pulled Sherlock inside the elevator and yanked him in for a kiss. This man was...

He was...

It felt familiar. To have his body pressed against Sherlock's. He shivered and shoved his hand down the back of his trousers. He was aching for it.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock pressed him against the back of the elevator, licking and nipping at John's neck, making sure to keep himself in check, not biting too hard, he wanted to just give into his pleasure, but he never could do that with a human, unless he wanted them to die, and of course he needed to keep John alive, to let him remember.

"Mmmm." He moaned when John put his hand inside his trousers. He hadn't worn pants for eons, so he still didn't in the modern times, he was wearing nothing under his trousers.

[ihadabadday]

"Oh fuck..." He groaned when the elevator dinged. His floor. John pulled away reluctantly and practically dragged Sherlock to his flat. Upon unlocking it, he pushed Sherlock in and shut the door behind them. It was homey. Comfortable. Some homes had altars to the Gods they worshipped. But John's did not.

He stared at Sherlock. "I feel like I know you."

[seaweed_writes]

A quick look around gave Sherlock a good idea about the man that he had known for year but really hadn't KNOWN. He had never seen where John Watson had lived when he met him the first time, he had taken him from that alleyway and had never gone back to the Overworld after that.

But it was nice to know more about John, this John, soon to be HIS John, he hoped.

Sherlock was pushed into the door by John this time, but he arched back, letting the man feel what being close to him was doing to Sherlock. He was most definitely hardening under the kisses and gropes from John.

"I want you to know me." Sherlock replied, surprisingly breathlessly. He dipped his head to John neck, leaving a red mark that anyone would be able to see over his collar tomorrow.