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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[ihadabadday]

"Let me go." He snarled at the god. The rage fueled magic flickered and threatened. Dancing close to the god and then away.

"I don't give a fuck who I am. I will not be treated like a prize to be won."

Very few had seen John Watson fueled by the rage he kept securely locked away. And even fewer lived to tell the tale.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock chuckled. "And if I let you go, then what? I still can't take you back to the Overworld. I've already told you that twice. And I don't have any other way to get you back up to your world. So.. What would you do? Watch me ferry souls all day? Play catch with Redbeard?" He looked over to the dog, who was resting its middle head on its giant paws, still guarding John.

"You are no prize, John Watson. You were a mortal who interested me because you whispered to me when you thought you were going to die. Do you remember what you said? What you told me? Because I do. I remember *EVERYTHING* anyone ever whispers to me in their dying moments."

[ihadabadday]

"I didn't beg for myself. I begged for my men. The soldiers that risked their lives day after day. So don't you dare throw that back at me." He hissed.

The rage fueled magic reared up, like it was going to come crashing down onto Sherlock.

"If you will not return me home, you need to find someone who can." He demanded.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock's voice was annoyed. "I am not sure how many different ways that I can tell you that I cannot go back to the Overworld for another mortal year. And I have no one else here to send you back. I am not going to tell you again. You are apparently not nearly as intelligent as I thought at first. A shame. I thought you would be a fun little plaything. Maybe I should just get rid of you now. I'm willing to take my brother's ire."

Lightening crackled from his fingers. He started to advance on John, his eyes dark.

"I'll give you a moment to beg for your life before I kill you."

[ihadabadday]

John stared at him defiantly. "Then kill me. I will not beg."

What had this solider been through?

He squared his shoulders back as he rose onto his knees. He refused to grovel. He refused to bend to this God's will any longer.

[seaweed_writes]

Lightning flew from his fingers. Once again, it struck John.

It was enough to knock him out, and Sherlock kept going, enough to really hurt him, but not quite enough to kill him.

When the man was unconscious, yet again, he undid all of the chains on his neck, hands, feet, and cock.

He levitated the man into another part of the cave, it was an empty room, one he never used, he didn't need it.

Sherlock created a bed, large, with a lot of pillows and sheets with a stupidly high thread count. He made some food, the man hadn't eaten in quite a while.

He moved John over to the bed and laid him down gently, then walked out of the room. The last thing he did was make thick stone 'bars' across the entrance like a jail cell, a part of the cave, so they were practically unbreakable, they were a part of the earth that surrounded them. He also electrified the bars, as an extra precaution.

When he was done, he headed back to his throne room. He had a lot to think about.

[ihadabadday]

John was out for quite some time. From the electricity hitting him to using so much magic. It had exhausted him.

He blinked awake and rubbed his face. It had not been a terrible dream. He sighed and sat up. He wasn't chained. The room looked comfortable. But what he needed was a shower. And to get this Damn plug out.

He got off the bed and crossed to the bars. He didn't touch them. Instincts said not to.

"Sherlock..." He suspected the god might hear him, "Is there a bathroom?" The walls had looked smooth upon waking.

[seaweed_writes]

The decently sized room was just off from the throne room, at a bit of an angle. Sherlock could see some of the room from his seat,at least the front where the bars were.

So when John started to pace around, it got his attention. He had been deep in thought for hours while the man was unconscious, so hearing his name surprised him.

He walked over to the bars, leaning on them, watching the lightning crackle on and around him. It was a nice silent warning for John to not do what he was doing.

"Oh, yes. A bathroom. I keep forgetting you mortals have to stupid things like eat or use the loo. I conjured up some food for you." He drolled, sounding utterly bored.

A quick waggle of his fingers and there was something approximating a toilet. He of course had never needed to use one, so he had to guess at how it worked, but it was good enough.

[ihadabadday]

He glanced at the toilet and then to Sherlock. "Yes thank you. But can you also include a shower? Otherwise I'll be very grumpy."

Okay so he was stuck here. At least he wasn't chained up anymore. At least there was some bit of comfort.

That had him wonder. How many grovelled for their lives? How many had begged and begged. How many humans had this god found fascinating and whisked away here?

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock rolled his eyes and let out a long, dramatic sigh.

He created a shower to the side of the toilet, while grumbling something almost too low to hear that sounded like "Bloody mortals."

"Okay, there, your highness. Anything else?" He snapped. "And don't ask to go home. I'm trying to make your stay more... comfortable. I can't promise that my brother will do the same." Of course, his brother wasn't a hedonist and a masochist like he was, so at least John wouldn't be fucked like Sherlock had, but that didn't mean that it would be better. His brother could be quite.. persuasive.

[ihadabadday]

"I don't care how persuasive he can be. I will not leave here with anyone but you. I will wait out my year and you will then return me to London." He said stubbornly.

And without another word, John retreated to go shower. The warmth of the water felt good against his sore muscles. Carefully he reached bsck and removed the plug in him. He shuddered and carefully cleaned himself up.

John was stubborn and jealous and rage fueled. But under that, he was quiet pleasant and calm.

[seaweed_writes]

Well, that was a somewhat surprising turn of events. So now he was actually willing to wait out the year with him now?

Interesting.

Of course, John was going to go to see his brother whether he liked it or not. Most likely Mycroft was not going to take him back to the Overworld, though he could. He hadn't visited in over a century, so he was under no such compunction about being able to go. More likely, he was going to kill him. And if Mycroft deigned to kill him, Sherlock could not intervene.

And Sherlock actually found himself a bit.. well, not upset, he was just a mortal, but disappointed. This mad had put up more of a fight than anyone he had ever dealt with, and that was quite a compliment.

He went back to his throne room and used the scrying crystal to watch him shower, idly stroking himself as he did. He wasn't trying to get off, really, but it was... enjoyable watching him. He chuckled when the man pulled the stone plug out and he he watched with pride as the quite copious amounts of himself leaked out the man's arse.

[ihadabadday]

John finished cleaning himself up and stepped out of the shower. He was surprised to see a towel, but he dried himself off before going to have some of the food left. He was starving.

He sat on the bed after he finished eating and then sighed. John wouldn't admit it, but he was worried. What would happen to him? He didn't want to die. He wanted to continue living.

He shiftred and laid back against the soft bed. Soon enough he was lulled back to sleep.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock watched until he was asleep, then he changed the scrying crystal over to Mycroft.

"Brother mine."

"How fares Ares?"

"He was... convinced not to let it happen again. He mentioned that the mortal he was with, she was not normal, which according to him was the reason why he was drawn to her. He didn't give much details, and we are trying to ascertain exactly what he means. It would behoove us to... interview this... John Watson, I believe."

A tiny spike of possessiveness overtook Sherlock, which he immediately tamped down. This mortal was not his, the man hated him.

But he still didn't want him to die.

He was.. interesting.

"I doubt he will tell you anything" he attempted to somewhat plead his case. "He avoided my attempts so far."

Mycroft frowned. "Brother, please tell me that you are not... fond of this mortal."

"No!" He quickly yelled. "Not at all. He is.. fascinating. I want to study and play with him a bit more."

"Be that as it may, you can find another mortal to sate your sexual appetites." he said with a grimace. "Bring him here. I'll give you a few moments to say good bye to your little pet."

Mycroft rang off and Sherlock sighed. Well, so much for sleep. Time for John to meet his maker, it seemed.

[ihadabadday]

John woke when he heard Sherlock's yell. And the men were not quiet. He remained where he was, taking deep breaths. Sherlock sounded upset. Unusual.

He let out a breath and then started to move when it fell silent again.

He wondered if this would be the moment he last saw Sherlock. And that didn't sit well with him. In fact it nearly... It made him ill. There was a strangeness that came over him. A strangeness he couldn't explain.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock stalked over to the room where John was being kept, He had reverted back to his 'normal' form. 9 feet tall, thin and lanky, skinnier than was humanly possible. Skin was an ashen gray, his fingers and toes were tipped with claws instead of fingernails. The curly black hair that was on his head kept its shape, but it was now living fire, dancing on his head, shifting as he moved. His eyes were the same though, almond shaped and still the same gray/green/blue that they had been before. He was wearing a dark toga like robe that still managed to hug his curves but stay loose enough to be comfortable.

And as always, he was barefoot.

He absently waved his hand, and the bars disappeared. "Come on. Follow me. I don't think I have to force you. I will electrocute you if you don't comply, so make it easier on both of us." He sounded.. bored, with an undercurrent of annoyance.

He had turned away and walked back towards the entrance- he had only taken a few steps, when- not even looking but waggling his fingers over his shoulder he put John back in the clothes that he had had when he arrived.

"Come, John. Mount Olympus awaits."

[ihadabadday]

"Sherlock..." John felt dizzy. Something was wrong. He groaned before crumpling to the ground. This was not an act. Something was wrong with John Watson.

Instead of the gold glow that surrounded him when he used the magic that lived in him, it was a grey blue, similar to some of Sherlock's power.

It always seemed to be the opportune moments that the Fates appeared. Greg seemed to materialize at Sherlock's elbow. "Did you break him?"

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock had just turned and rolled his eyes at John, believing that he was just trying to stall.
"Oh come on, John. Just.." But he stopped short there. He looked pale, almost a grayish blue color, like he wasn't breathing, but Sherlock could see that he was.

He had only take a couple of steps back towards him when Greg poofed into view.

"Oh, what now, Graham." He loved needling the man about his name. "I didn't do a bloody thing. I fed him, I made him a toilet, a shower and look, I even put clothes on him." He was clearly annoyed, and upset. He brushed past the Fate, bumping his shoulder hard on purpose, and over to John, to observe him.

"Why did he collapse?" Sure, he had lost a good bit of blood, and his back was still ravaged, and of course he had the scar in the middle of his forehead, but he shouldn't have just passed out. "I really hope he didn't faint because I showed him what I actually look like. I didn't think this mortal was that weak." He spit out.

[ihadabadday]

"You fed him?" He looked at Sherlock, "Do you not know anything of your history?"

"The tale of Hades and Persephone." He clarified.

Greg stepped away and turned to look at the god. "Persephone becomes the Queen of Hell, by eating."

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock looked over to John, then back to Greg. "What are you talking about? I know nothing of any.. Persephone. And his name is John Watson. He couldn't become the Queen of hell. He has a penis. I have seen it." He, of course, said that with no shame. He didn't give a rats arse what Greg knew or didn't. He was a Fate, he knew it all anyways.

"So, what, are you saying that he is going to run Hell with me from now on? He isn't even a god. At best he is a halfbreed." Sherlock got up and stalked towards Greg. "Talk, and fast. My brother is expecting me and... " he waved his hand absently towards the heap of John on the floor. "... That in Olympus, now."

[ihadabadday]

"It's complicated. You need to research it." Greg said, "You should know your history." He was only the second Hades.

John started to come to, making a small noise. He opened his eyes and sat up. What the hell?

[seaweed_writes]

"Greg." the flames on his head flared up when he was angered, and the flames were rising higher now. "I do not have time to research what the previous Hades did. As I already said, I am due in Mount Olympus. now. Tell me. NOW!" He yelled the last word in a roar that echoed all around the giant cave they were in. His 'hair' flared up high when he yelled that last word.

He heard John stirring behind him, but he had know what Greg was talking about. "Tell me what the fuck you are talking about, or get the bloody hell out of my way." His voice was a low, dangerous growl.

[ihadabadday]

Greg took a breath and reached out, touching Sherlock's forehead. He gave him the information he wanted. The information on Persephone. The story and the magic it induced.

Hades and Persephone were bound. Forever.

John got up and turned to look at the two men. Well this was unusual.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock closed his eyes to let the flashes of information fill his brain. The Hades that came before him, had fallen in with with the goddess Persephone. He abducted her while she was picking flowers. Her mother searched for her everywhere and prevented anything from growing while she searched. Helios, the god of the sun, told her what happened. Zeus forced Hades to return her. He complied, but gave her pomegranate seeds to eat. Because of that, she had to spend the winter months in the Underworld. She became the Queen of the Underworld, and it was forbidden to speak her name.

When the shared thoughts faded, Sherlock opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times. His legs were slightly weak, and the fire on his head had died down to very low.

He looked at Greg. "What.. does this mean though? That every Hades is destined to be bound to one person? Persephone was a goddess. He is only a mortal, a half god, a half breed. How could he even be the 'Queen of the Underworld'? I.. don't understand. What happens now?" That was a phrase he was quite sure he had never spoken in his life.

[ihadabadday]

"What happens now is up to you." He answered, "Just do not allow the two of you to be separated right now. The magic is still settling. Severing it now, could harm or kill both of you." He warned.

John lifted his hand and thought for a moment. Flame erupted from his palm. It was gold with a center of blue. His magic was already merging with the new magic of the Underworld.

Oh god. He raised his head and looked at the two men.