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.

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[seaweed_writes]

"You." he looked down at John. "I want you." He pressed down again, moving his arse up and downs against John's cock. He could already feel it hardening under him. Oh, he longed to feel what it was like to actually have someone inside of him, instead of being the one filled.. what had he missed all of these eons? He hoped that he was about to find out.

[ihadabadday]

John's stomach and heart lurched. "Anything. I will give you anything." He would. He really would. He nodded, bringing his hands up to stroke along Sherlock's hips.

[seaweed_writes]

"All of you." Sherlock pressed down, rubbing his arsecheeks against John's cock, and down over his bollocks, then back up again.

He closed his eyes, feeling John's cool hands against his hot skin. His whole body ached to feel John. He never thought he would he would crave this, but he did more than anything else in the world.

"John... do it."

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He pushed up and up until he felt himself slide into Sherlock's body. It was hot. So very hot. He slammed his head back against the pillows, gasping. His hands tightened, gripping the man's hips.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock closed his eyes, grunting softly. He was tight, oh so terribly tight, no one, not even the first John had ever been inside of him.

It was a terrible mix of pleasure and pain. "Fuck. John.." He bit his lip hard, his whole body tensing around John's cock. "Fuck..." He had lost the ability to speak coherently.

[ihadabadday]

"Shhh... Easy. Relax." he urged Sherlock. He stroked his hand along the man's hip, trying to soothe him with his magic. John swallowed, staring at the man above him. He was beautiful, stunning.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock did relax. He felt the cool magic wash over him, letting him fall into the pleasure.
He leaned down, putting his hands down on John's chest while John's hands were still on his hips, holding him tight.

"John... move.. please.." He begged the man under him.

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John nodded, unable to speak. He then began to rock his hips up and down, into the man above him. He shuddered as he moved, soft moans coming from him.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock moved his hands from John's chest to his sides so he could hold onto John while he rocked up and into him.

Sherlock's cock was rock hard, slapping up against his belly with every thrust that John made into him. His hot pre was dripping down across his belly and down his side. onto the sheets below, copious amounts of himself leaking out of him.

"John.. more... harder.." he groaned.

[ihadabadday]

John couldn't take his eyes off Sherlock, but he moved harder. He wanted to give him everything. Anything he wanted. Forever.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock rocked in time, letting John go as deep as he could. He could feel his own pleasure bubbling up inside of him... but this time.. this one and only time, he wanted John to come first.

He reached down and gripped the base of his own cock, not to stroke himself but to be a makeshift cock ring, to hold himself back. His other hand reached behind, fondling his lover's bollocks.

"John.. come.. I want to feel you inside me." He groaned, trying to hard to keep himself from coming. his whole body was shaking with the effort.

[ihadabadday]

John didn't... He couldn't. Not with Sherlock like that. He cried out and slammed his hips up, burying himself in the man as he reached his climax. He just hoped that they could stay here forever, to be together like this.

He swallowed and collapsed back against the bed, gasping for breath.

[seaweed_writes]

"Nnnnng... yessss!!" Sherlock let go of himself as John started to spill inside of him. Sherlock's hot come splattered over both of them. coating both of their stomachs and thighs with himself. Even after John was coming down and collapsed against the bed, Sherlock still had a couple more twitches of his cock, a bit more of his seed, before he was spent as well.

He could already feel John softening inside of him, his cock drawing back. But Sherlock didn't pull back, letting John;s come stay inside of him as long as he possibly could.

"John.." He groaned softly. "My John..." he tried to form more words, but he just couldn't.

[ihadabadday]

John smiled tiredly at him. "I'm afraid I need to sleep, even after all these years with you." He said softly.

He kissed the other and shifted them both onto their sides. He was soon asleep, comforted in his love's presence.

[seaweed_writes]

There is a little bit of pride in thinking that he, Sherlock, wore this man out, that he was the reason that John needed to sleep. He couldn't help but be a little chuffed at that. No one else ever did, or ever would say that about that man.

Sherlock waited until John was sleeping, his breathing (breathing, why did he even still breathe? Silly mortals) was deep and even. Then he got up, as quietly as he could after untangling himself from John, and went back into the throne room, replaying the last hour or so in his mind on a loop over and over while he ferried the last souls from that bloody war down to the Pool of Souls.

[ihadabadday]

John was miserable. He hated leaving Sherlock and Hell. He pressed his hands against the man's face, kissing his forehead. "These three months will go quickly. I promise." He assured him.

"And since you're moving to Overworld..." He smiled.

[seaweed_writes]

"I will." Sherlock assured him, kissing him on the lips afterwards. "It shouldn't take me long to get re-situated back in the Overworld. As soon as I do, I will get a mobile phone and call you. We can set up that video session. You will be 11 hours ahead of me, but as I don't sleep, it shouldn't be a problem.

Sherlock gave him a long, lingering kiss, his tongue pressing against his lips, his teeth nibbling at his lower lip.

"Go." he said, with more than a little sadness to his voice. "You only have a few more hours to get there. You can't be late." He sighed. "I'll speak with you soon, I promise."


Sherlock almost said those three little words, they were on his lips but he got cold feet at the last minute and instead he said "Be well, my Persephone."


Little did they know that would be the last time they would see each other for a very, very long time.

[ihadabadday]

John smiled at him as he left, his parting words were those three words the very ones Sherlock couldn't bring himself to say.

One day John was sitting on the couch in his little flat, holding the ball Sherlock had given him.

He sighed and pressed his forehead to it, savoring the warmth from it. He missed his Hades so.

[seaweed_writes]

Plans were almost complete to go to the Overworld. With Fates busy and unable to help this time, it took longer to organize, something that Sherlock HATED to do.

But finally, plans were in place.

When he walked back to his throne room, there was a package on his throne. The handwriting looked like Johns. It was addressed to "My Hades". He opened it up, and it was another flower, though it didn't look like the one that John had made him, it was still quite beautiful.

There were also directions, to crush it with a mortal and pestal and mix the powder with a bit of water and drink it. And they would be able to communicate directly.

Sherlock figured that he had talked to Fates, or another god to get a better way to communicate, and maybe he wouldn't have to waste him time in the Overworld and their strange technology.

He did as he was big, crushing the flower, then drinking it. It was very sour, and foul tasting but he drank every drop.

Suddenly, it felt like all of the engender, all of the power was seeping out of his body. There was intense, burning pain throughout his body, something he had never felt before, as he was the embodiment of fire. He crumpled to the ground, his body weak, his eyes starting to fail him.

The last thing he ever saw, was a pair of feet in front of him, attached to a black robe, and the words "Good bye, Hades. I'm Lord of the Dead now."

And his entire world ended.

[ihadabadday]

It happened all at once. A stabbing pain shot through him and the ball went gold. A lump of stone.

John began to tremble. "No... Sherlock." Even though the Southern Hemisphere often had warmer winter temperatures.... The sky grew dark and the wind began to howl.

He tangled his hands into his hair, crying out. Oh god. No. Not Sherlock.

Whoever has done that... He knew they wouldn't be friend. So he fled. His instinct as Persephone taking over. He went to the one place he knew he'd be safe.

Demeter's...

[seaweed_writes]

Demeter, the Goddess of the Grain, or the mortal name she took- Molly, lived in the Midwestern US, the grain belt of the world.

She had a farm, and spent time there during the summer and fall mostly when the grains grew higher than an elephant's eye, so the old saying went. When the crops were done she would spend the rest of the time at Mount Olympus.

But when she had heard, years ago, that there was a new Persephone, she went out of her way to meet them... Of course she was quite surprised that he ended up being male, and that he was a demigod, not a full god, a former mortal, but even all of that was not the strangest thing she had ever seen, and they had become quick friends when John was in the Overworld, away from the Hades that he loved.

So she was quite surprised when John showed up on her farm one day, with a strange rock in his hand.

"Persephone." She said in greeting, but her smile faded when she saw him. "What is wrong, my child?" They were notr related of course, but Molly always saw John as a bit of a younger brother, or son, someone for her to mentor.

[ihadabadday]

He collapsed into her arms, sobbing. "Someone killed Hades. He's gone." John was breaking.

He didn't want to let go of the stone. It was something Sherlock had given him. He didn't want... He didn't want to. He sobbed himself into sleep and exhaustion.

[seaweed_writes]

"Killed Hades..." She didn't ask it as a question, or say it like she didn't believe him, but she was surprised that A- someone could kill a god, B- that someone would WANT to kill a god, and C- that she hadn't heard about it.

She held John, and let him cry, and led him to the guest bedroom, where she laid him down and covered him in the soft sheets when he finally had exhausted himself.

As soon as she had, she was gone to Mount Olympus. She had to talk to Zeus.

Only, when she got there, she could tell by the look on his face that it was true. Zeus had lost his brother.

"How? Who?" She asked.

Zeus shook his head. "We do not know how, but Thanatos, the God of the dead, or Moriarty, as the mortals call him. He rules Hell now. We figured that his twin brother Hypnos probably helped him. We are guessing that it was a rare herb, but we have no proof yet, and he killed the previous ruler, so he has rights to be the ruler of Hell. There is nothing that I can do."

She nodded her head, gave him her condolences, and told Zeus that she was guarding Persephone now, in case Thanatos was going to come after him as well. Zeus doubted the man would care for his job, and said that most likely John was safe.

A short time later, she was back in the farmhouse, with a still sleeping John.

[ihadabadday]

John was miserable. He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. It was unusual to not feel Hades. He refused to let go of the orb.

He shrank it and fashioned it into a necklace on a chain.

John did his job, ushering in the winters and carrying out the curses. For years he did this, a shell of a man.

[seaweed_writes]

Demeter never asked about the orb. She figured that it had something to do with Hades, but she never pried. Eventually, John got back on his own two feet, and went back to his work- 3 months in London, three months with her, then three months in Sydney, and another three months on her farm while she was in Mount Olympus.

She only saw him 3 months out of the year, and even then they hardly talked. He stayed to himself, doing his job and little else.

Days turned into months. Months turned into years. And still the pattern continued.


Until the day that John- Persephone- was called to speak with Zeus. He was ordered by Hermes, the Messenger God to come to Mount Olympus immediately with him.