ihadabadday | In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed

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?

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

"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?"

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.

"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."

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."

"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?

"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.

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.

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.

"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.

Sherlock felt the tingle of magic behind him. He turned just in time to see the very end of the flame dancing in John's palm.
If he could have gone pale,then he would have.
He turned back to Greg. This is how Moriarty, the previous Hades died, isn't it? He was separated from his Persephone." He sounded angry but it was actually more fear than anything else.

"You say what happens is up to me, then you tell me not to separate from John. So it really isn't up to me, is it? How long do your Fates says that we need to be joined?" Anxiousness was ramping up inside Sherlock. He wished to hell that he had never met John Watson, his life had just become infinitely more complicated.

He looked back to John, studying the man. Was he doomed to spend forever here now because Sherlock hadn't know better? He never cared about what happened to mortals, but something inside of him felt.. almost... sorry for the man.

Greg nodded. "It is. Some suspect a murder plot with it." He answered, "this was not the only outcome. But one of many. And unfortunately, the only one that did not lead in John Watson's early death."

If Sherlock had never brought him here. If he had just left the mortal be. But Fate was a tricky mistress, constantly changing and adapting.

"Some might say the two of you were always destined to meet, no matter the circumstances." He offered.

John closed his fist and looked at the two men. "What happened to my magic?" He demanded.

A long sigh emanated from Sherlock's throat. Well, this was going to complicate dealing with his brother. And complication was never good when it came to Mycroft- the might Zeus as the mortals called him.

"If I hadn't brought him here, he would have already died." He asked Greg, though it was more of a statement than a question. "And yet he still might die at the hands of my brother."

For the moment at least, he was ignoring John. He was part of the problem, not the solution at the moment.

"It sounds like Hades' fate was sealed. It happened with Moriarty, and it happened with me. And I know that you know what happens to us, to this mortal and I. But I also know that you won't tell me."

He looked back to John when he asked the question, but didn't answer.

Suddenly, his head whipped back to Greg. "Persephone was a goddess, not a mortal. Does that mean that he is...." His voice trailed off, he couldn't even contemplate what that might mean.

"No ones fate is truly sealed." Greg supplied. He liked Sherlock, he really did. He was the least annoying of all the gods and goddesses.

"Every thing anyone does subjects them to a change in their fate. John Watson might have lived, or he could have died in Afghanistan." he shrugged a bit, "Fate is fate. It can be changed, it can be swayed and moved."

He glanced at John and then back at Sherlock. "The process is happening. There are rules for killing one of our own. You know that. Even Zeus would not break those rules." Greg warned before stepping back and vanishing in a swirl of light.

"What the hell is going on?" John demanded. He was more confused than angry.

Well, that had left things even less clear than they had been before.

'The process had started'- he had said. The process that will turn John from a half breed into a true god, he wondered? It was an immensely rare thing to happen. He had only seen it a couple of times in all his eons of being.

And what title would he take? Certainly he would not submit to being Persephone, as that is a female name. Though it would be the role that fate.. or Fate in the guise of Greg has seemed to cast him in.

Unfortunately, all of those questions would have to be saved for another time. Mycroft was going to be pissed that they were as late as they are, though he is fairly sure he would be have scryed to find him, so maybe he already knew some, or all of what ha happened.

Only one way to find out.

"Not now, John." He grabbed the man's arm and in a quick swirl of smoke and ash. they were gone.

Less than a heartbeat (if Sherlock had a heart, which he didn't) they were standing on clouds, surrounded by the humongous glittering gold gates that heralded Mount Olympus. The two gates stood 100 feet tall easily, and at the moment they were closed.

"Well, consider yourself lucky. No mortal gets to see this, at least not while alive."

John opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it. He was... Pouting. That was a good term for it. He huffed and then grabbed onto Sherlock when they began to vanished.

Christ.

He was going to kick the man, regardless of his current appearance. Which was rather handsome.

John pulled away and then looked up at the gates. They reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite place it. "I am sure other of us mortals would be pleased to see the gates to a heaven they don't believe in." He grumbled. More to himself than anyone else.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "This isn't heaven. This is Mount Olympus. Mortals don't come here when they die. Very few mortals ever see this place, and none while they were alive. You should count yourself lucky and sound a bit more grateful." Sherlock snapped at him. He didn't have time to be pleasant with this man.

He grabbed John's arm again, and in another moment they were in what looked like a giant hall with a great table that seemed to stretch on to eternity inside.

And standing, at the end of the table, leaning against the back of a chair, his legs crossed at the ankles, was Zeus.

If Sherlock was tall at 9 feet, then Zeus was gigantic, close to 12 feet tall, his skin glowed with a golden yellow hue like he radiated the sun. Crackles of lightning played across his skin, and around the giant white toga that he wore.

"You're late." He said, in bored tone just like Sherlock's.

"I'm sure you are aware the The Fates paid us a visit." There was no response from Mycroft. He just looked down his nose at the little man next to his brother.

You are the mortal at the center of this?" he huffed. "I expected someone.. Taller."

John crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at Zeus, a decidedly 'not impressed' expression on his face.

"By no fault of my own. I was quite content living my life. And don't say that it was a worthless life. It was my life and that's what mattered."

John Watson did not cower, John Watson did not beg. And he certainly didn't give a rats ass about the men in this room. He would stare them down until his dying breath. He would live and die on his terms, not these gods.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and throw some rather satisfying insults around, but just barely.

In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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