ihadabadday | In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed

Entry tags:

In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sherlock went through his daily work with a slightly distracted mind. It was nice to own your own company, you could leave early if you needed too. He was working very late ore often than he was leaving early, so he took this day for himself.

He dressed in a tight button up purple collared shirt that strained slightly against his chest, and a fairly tight pair of black trousers, along with black socks and black shoes, polished to within an inch of their lives. It was dress casual, and if John did expect it to be a date, then it would work as well.

Multipurpose.

He grabbed one his nicer bottles of wine, a rather expensive French number, made sure his curls were quaffed and in perfect order, then headed downstairs, knocking on the door of 221C, pretending that his heart wasn't pounding.

Was it a date? Sherlock just had to know.

John opened the door. He was dressed nice as well, face just a bit flushed. He smiled when he saw Sherlock. "You look nice, that color is wonderful against your skin." He managed to blurt out. Which caused him to turn even redder.

He stepped aside to allow the man in. His heart was pounding. Hades... But for now. He had to act like he didn't know every part of this man. Every scar and every dip.

He shut the door behind Sherlock, swallowing. He had to get himself under control. It would not due to let himself get out of control.

"Oh... thanks." He said awkwardly. John looked nice.. and smelled nice.. this had to be a date, right? The poor man was stumbling over his words.

He held up the wine, and a decanter he had grabbed as he left. "We should let this breathe for a few minutes, it will intensify the flavors." He waited for John to show him to the kitchen, not knowing anything about the layout of this flat.

It was a comfortable single bedroom flat. John had remolded it from a cramped two bedroom one to what it was now. He led him over to the kitchen. On the side table they passed was an unusual bloom. Black as the night sky with red tips. It was not of this earth.

John didn't know how much Sherlock knew about the gods that walked among them. But he wasn't going to bring it up.

"That's fine, there is still a bit to go on the lamb." He produced a wine opener and offered it to Sherlock.

Sherlock paused as he walked past it. It... was beautiful, but why did it spark.. something inside of him? He shook the thought out of his head and went into the kitchen, making short work of decanting the wine.

"That smells lovely." He admitted. He had had a small lunch just for this occasion, so that he would be able to savor and enjoy what John cooked for him.

"That flower." He asked, when he was done. "What is it? I've studied botany, but I've never seen a flower like that."

John paused and then swallowed. "My job is that of Persephone." He said. No use not being honest to the man, "I created the bloom. It reminds me of someone I used to know."

He leaned against the counter, biting his lip. How Sherlock took it... It would be a turning point in whatever this was.

"Persephone..." He looked confused for a moment, he had to go back to his knowledge of Greek gods and goddesses. His eyes went wide and he took a step back.

"Goddess of flowers and vegetation.. and.. the Underworld." He tried to take another step back, but his back hit a wall. His heart was pounding.

"Did... you... lure me down here to kill me and take me to the Underworld?" He had seemed like such a nice man, but now Sherlock wasn't quite sure. He hadn't killed Mrs. Hudson, but maybe he was getting him out of the way first so there would be no witnesses?

His eyes canted over to the hallway where the front door lie, then back to the flower. Could he make the door before this man.... god... whatever he was struck him down? It seemed unlikely.

Well, that only left one thing to do.

Sherlock swallowed down his fear, stood up straight, and stared John.. Persephone, whatever he was in the eye. "I'm not afraid to die. Take me now, don't prolong the deed. Send me to Hell, or wherever you rule." He said, almost defiantly.

"No. I will not be killing you. I have no need. Even then, it is not your fate to die tonight." John shrugged, "I avoid killing when I can. I choose to help when I can. I have not been to the Underworld in many years... Not since..." His eyes clouded over and the winds outside howled as snow started to come down.

"I am here to usher in the winter. And when I leave, the plants all will be reminded of who they are. They will bloom and thrive and usher in spring. I will spent that time With Demeter, and then to Sydney for the Southern Hemisphere's winter, and once more to Demeter's before I return to London."

"The Fates are the one who enact death upon mortals. They watch and they wait, knowing when it is each mortal's time. Hades would then ferry the souls, and I... I would enact the curses the dead and mortals place upon one another. But it has been so long since I have done that. Not since..." He couldn't say it. The despair gripped his heart and didn't want to let go.

"You are free to go. You are not a prisoner. I would never trap someone so."

If Sherlock fled... John would grow a poisonous plant and consume it. Maybe he would wake in a time where Sherlock was Hades once more.

He said that he avoided killing when he can.. so the man could kill him, Sherlock thought. He looked to the window, surprised to see snow coming down. There had been no call for snow today. If this man was who he said he was, that could explain the sudden snowstorm. Something was upsetting him, something that happened in the Underworld, apparently.

"So... you worked with Hades.. and the Fates, and Demeter.. She was..er.. is.. the goddess of grain, correct?"

So.. what had happened? Why did he not go to the Underworld any more?

And was he who he said he was? I mean anyone could SAY they were a god, but that didn't make them one.

He had to know.

He knew gods walked among men, but he also knew that meant that people pretended to be gods to curry favor with others.

"If...you are a god... then can you prove it to me?" Sherlock had no desire to run. He was more curious now, than scared. If this man was a god, what was he supposed to do? He was just a chemist. A brilliant one, but only a chemist, and a mortal man.

John looked up at him. There was fear on his face, fear of disgust and rejection. He let out a breath and cupped his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. A seed appeared in his hands and began to grow. It grew and twisted, vines appearing with blooms at the end. It them bloomed brilliantly, the flowers a magnificent purple.

"Here. You may have it. It is a bloom of the gods and thus it will never fade, wilt or die. Unless I die." He held it out and offered it to Sherlock.

Sherlock's eyes went wide. Part of his brain was telling him not to touch it, it could be a trick. But it was beautiful, almost exactly the same color purple as his shirt.

He reached out with a finger, and touched it once. It was cool, and when the pad of his finger touched the petal, he could fell a low thrum of. energy, or magic.. or.. something.

Finally, Sherlock took it. It almost glowed, it was easy to see that it was not of this world. "I.." He really wasn't sure what to say.

"It's amazing. Thank you." He looked a little sheepish,almost blushing. "I'm sorry that I have nothing to give you in return, just an expensive bottle of wine." He smirked at his stupid joke.

John laughed and absently fingered the charm he wore. The sphere Hades had given him so long ago. "It's alright. I quite enjoy wine."

He turned to check on dinner and it was done. He took it out of the oven and plated it before bringing it to the table. He looked at Sherlock. "Are you hungry?"

He had been hungry, but that was before the whole thing about finding out this guy was a god and could kill him but.. at least so far had decided not too.

Well, if this had been a date before, it certainly wasn't now. There was no way a god would, or could date a mortal. The guys in front of him looked so.. human... so normal.. how was it that he was a god? Sherlock just couldn't reconcile it in his mind.

But he didn't want to be rude, so he smile and nodded his head. He was sure he could eat something.

Did.. gods even need to eat? Why would he know how to cook lamb, or did gods know everything? And why had John say that he had been a doctor? He was a god, he didn't need some random locum job.

There were WAYYY too many more questions than answers.

"Ask." He told Sherlock when they sat down, "I know you have dozens of questions." John smiled at him.

He couldn't tell him that he had seen the look hundreds of times before on his past self's face. That he just rolled his eyes and answered. Usually when they were in bed after a rigorous round of lovemaking.

Gods he missed Hades. He missed the man's touch. He had not taken another bed partner since his love was killed.

"You.. are a god..." He said, continuing before John could even respond, as he knew the answer. He poked at the lamb in front of him, a little hungry but more curious than anything else.

Where even to start? "But... you look human. So. what do you look like when you are a god? I mean.. Persephone... the Greek goddess.. she was a goddess, and you.. well you look male. Are you just pretending to be a guy?" He wasn't sure why, in these times, women and men were pretty much equals, there was no real advantage to being male any more, like there had been back in the 20th century, when his parents parents parents lived.

"I am Persephone. But... I was once mortal. Ages and ages ago. Two or three hundred years ago. I lost track." He let out a sigh and rubbed his face.

"I was thirty, a doctor, working in an A&E here in London. When I first met Hades. I didn't know who he was. We went to dinner and saw each other here and there after." That part was a lie, they had tumbled into bed after those few drinks at a bar.

"We bedded and he told me what he was. I... I didn't run. I was entranced and he offered me pomegranate seeds. I ate them and became Persephone. I am a demi-god, not a true one. This is my form. Maybe one day I could change it if I wished, but for now I have no desire to change it."

A mortal could become a god... or at least a demigod? That was surprising. Did that mean.. that he could be a demigod? What would he be the god of? Chemistry? Pretty sure that didn't exist. He had to chuckle, then apologized. "Sorry, my mind was... wandering for a moment.
He blushed a deep red.

So.. he really had been a doctor. and back in the 20th century too, so it had been a while. Sherlock had a bit of a fascination with that time period. It was a time with a lot of changes, for the good and bad.

And this man had loved a god.. he assumed Hades was a true god, and not a demigod though John had not said. So.. why was he not with Hades any more?

It hit Sherlock. John had gone to dinner with Hades, and then they had.. he guessed become involved? That was what it sounded like, from what he said.

"We are here.. having dinner..." Sherlock said, slowly, unsure. "Are...you... going.... to offer me pomegranate seeds?" Of course they had just met and he really had no intention of... bedding John.. that was such an odd term to use, archaic, though it made sense, he thought. He was pretty sure, even as a former mortal, and a demi god, their bodies wouldn't be... compatible, even if that was something he wanted..

He didn't even know what he wanted.. yet.

John laughed. "No... I can't... I can't change a mortal to a god. It's not part of my skills." he let out a breath.

"Hades died. About a hundred years ago. There are some plants, not of Earth, that can kill a god. I had left for Sydney for the Southern Hemisphere's winter, and I felt it. A connection being severed. I never wanted to feel that way again. I vowed revenge upon those that killed my love."

John let out a breath. "All these years and I've never stopped loving him. Excuse me." He got up and fled to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, trying to stop the torrent of tears that threatened to fall.

"Oh." He was surprised to find that he was actually a bit disappointed that this demi-god couldn't make more demi-gods like himself. He guessed maybe that only a god could make a demigod? Which would confirm his hypothesis that Hades had been a true god.

But if Hades was dead, who was running the underworld? Unfortunately he didn't get to ask before John ran towards the loo.

He gave John a few minutes, then politely and softly knocked on the door. "John. Umm.. if you need to reschedule, it's fine. I can come back another time. I didn't mean to upset you."

So.. he had apparently loved Hades, and had taken a pomegranate seed to be a demi-god with Hades, and then Hades had died, and he was here now.

There were even more questions and less answers. Who ran Hell? Did he get his revenge?

John opened the door after a minute, having calmed himself down and dried his face. "Sorry about that. It's not often I... Not often I converse with people that don't know what happened."

It seemed every god and demi-god knew what had happened to him and Hades.

"We don't need to reschedule. We can continue dinner. I promise." He smiled at Sherlock. Though it was getting harder to smile anymore.

Sherlock frowned. It looked like so far all he was doing was making this man miserable, bringing up old memories and getting him more and more upset. He was beginning to think that the best thing he could do would be to leave, but he wasn't sure how to bail out now. He should have left while John.. or Persephone.. or whomever was in the loo. He had lost his chance.

That smile John gave, it was not a happy one. Sherlock sighed. Maybe he just needed to change the subject... and now, of course, the lamb would be cold and the wine would be slightly warm.

"If.... you are sure..." Sherlock followed John back to the living room where thier food sat, untouched.

John sat down at the table and let out a breath. He let his power circle around the wine and food, warming and cooling. He then pulled it back into himself. "There, the food should be warm." He offered.

He didn't know if he could do it. Break Sherlock's life like this. He seemed so... Happy.

"Wow.. You can just heat things up like that? You have a lot of powers. I wonder what else you can do?" Sherlock had to chuckle.

Finally, he took a bit. "This is excellent!" he said. It really was good, he wasn't just saying that. He started in, in earnest, enjoying the lamb and potatoes. They worked well together

John smiled, glad that Sherlock seemed to be enjoying it. He didn't need to eat or sleep or breath. But he did so to seem mortal. And to be honest, he enjoyed it. There was something about waking up next to a partner that pleased him.

"I'm glad you like it. The wine is excellent." He said in response.

"I've had that for a while, never had a reason to use it.. until now." Sherlock almost blushed.

He tucked into his food, a bit of an awkward silence fell over the table. Sherlock really had no idea what to say, he knew nothing about this man, and every time he asked a question, it just made John feel worse, so he ended up just being quiet and eating.

In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject