ihadabadday | In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed

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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.

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When Sherlock left, John crumpled into himself. He started to sob. Sherlock didn't want him. He had no doubt seen what happened on him.

He just. He didn't want. Want... Why? Sherlock. His heart broke and he wanted to vanish. He couldn't go back to Moriarty. He couldn't live with that.

Sherlock didn't understand. Why had John turned away? Had Thanatos brainwashed him? Was John lost to him forever? There was such sadness in John's face when he had turned away, like John wanted to still love him, but couldn't.

He hadn't cheated on John, he had only ever been with Demeter the entire time, and they all knew that she was more like a mother or a big sister to them, he would never think about her in that way.

So what had changed?

He had no idea, and it totally broke his heart.

He went walking around the edge of the volcano. Even if he threw himself in, it wouldn't kill him, so he walked, in his bare feet, the red hot lava hissing around and between his toes, but he thought nothing of it.

Greg appeared and slapped Sherlock across the face. He didn't often lose his temper in such a way. There was a cool simmering around him.

"He thinks you left because you saw the truth. Moriarty... He had no choice but to sleep with him. To gain his trust. Demeter is there consoling him, trying to convince to not poison himself." He hissed, "John loves you more than anything. He is doing everything to get Moriarty to trust you."

Greg turned and paced along the ledge.

"I didn't see Moriarty killing you, that was not a fate I expected." He admitted, "But you and John will take back Hell."

He rounded to look at Sherlock. He hardly ever revealed the future.

"What the fuck?" Sherlock wheeled around after the slap that had turned his face to the side. He rubbed his face where Greg had slapped him, had.

Slowly, surprise dawned on his face, then anger, simmering anger. His eyes grew red and flames grew around his body. "

I will kill him, that usurper. He took me, took my title, and took my lover. I will make him suffer before he dies.Mark my words. I don't know how, but he will suffer at my hands. An eternity of pain will not be enough suffering for what he has done..."

All of the anger and hatred faded as soon as Greg said those next words. He looked at his friend, confusion on his face again.

"Wait.. why.. are you telling me this? You aren't allowed to reveal the future..." Did that mean that Fates had changed the future by telling him what would happen? would everything unravel if it happened as he deemed it?

"Hades belongs in Hell. No matter the upsur that has taken residence. That single fact cannot be changed." He hissed, "Now return to your Persephone and beg his forgiveness."

Greg vanished with the plant and a huff.

Why... did he take the plant? If Greg was gone and he took the plant, what were they going to do now?

Maybe Demeter had another one ready? He could go to the US.. but no. He had to get back to London. Wait.. she was in London now.. with John.. but she wouldn't have brought a plant with her.. He was even more confused than before, but he vanished in a poof of smoke.

A moment later he was back in the London flat, with John and Demeter almost right where he had left them.

"John.... I..." His voice falter. "Greg.. he told me... everything..." His head sank. What could he say? I'm sorry wouldn't even begin to cover it..

Greg was there, carefully grinding the plant into a powder. He eyed Sherlock.

John looked at Sherlock and started to shake. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I couldn't deny him. I... I..." He started to crumble, tears falling down his face. He was a wreck.

Sherlock sighed with relief when he saw Greg to the side, preparing the plant. Was Fates allowed to intervene like this, he wondered? Well, apparently so.

He turned back to John, his main focus.

Sherlock ran over to John, collecting him in is arms and gently rocking him back and forth. "John.. don't apologize. You had no choice." Sadness turned to anger. His eyes turned red and flames engulfed them both.

"I will make the usurper pay for what he did to you, John. You can take my word on it." He immediately calmed down, kissing and rubbing any part of John that he could get a hold of.

"We need to be strong now. We can't have any weakness when we go into Hell. He will latch onto it and use it against us. You have to be strong now, John. Can you do that, for me, please?"

As much as Fates was connected to all. It was Hades that he was connected to the most. The Underworld of most religions wad one fate that no one could escape. No matter what. Hades belonged in Hell. Not Thanatos.

John clung to Sherlock, inhaling his scent, pressing against his love. To feel him again... It was everything. He let out a breath and returned the kiss. He could get lost in them.

Sherlock wished that he could lay John down right now and make love to him, or hell even just give him a nice fucking, to remind him that he still loved John and he always would, but of course Demeter and Fates were here, so he reluctantly broke apart from John, but not after one last kiss.

He turned to Greg. "So, we put that in some American Whiskey, and then somehow John gets him to drink it... and then what, will he just die, or will he just be weakened and we have to kill him?" Sherlock had no qualms about killing him, getting in the killing blow. In face, he hoped that he would have to. He would have rather kept the man alive to make him suffer, but that was dangerous he knew, he had to be killed and quickly.

"I will have to drink it as well." John said softly, "But there is a reason why. Over the course of some time with Demeter, I dabbled in poisoned. This particular one, I have a small immunity to. So I will be able to drink it and not have him suspicious.

Greg poured the powder into the whiskey and then focused on resealing the body. It was a rarer American Whiskey.

Sherlock shook his head.

"NO. No way. This is what killed me. This is what is going to kill Thanatos. There is no way that I am going to let you drink any of this, John! What if something goes wrong and its too strong or its not what you are immune to or it weakens you and he notices? There are too many things that can go wrong with that plan."

He shook his head vigorously "I... I am not losing you again!"

"I have to. He will want me to. If I deny, he will know something is wrong with it." He replied. John hated the look on Sherlock's face. He let out a sigh. "I am not jeopardizing this."

He stared stubbornly at Sherlock, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"Fuck." Sherlock muttered under his breath, then he waved his hands in an angry, dismissive manner. "Fine." He knew John was right, but he didn't have to like it, so he crossed his arms and huffed, falling into a little strop.

John was not ready to return to Hell. Return to Moriarty. They had a plan though. God he hoped that it would work.

He walked past Cerberus, feeling a sense of calm come over him. He could be the shy, timid god that Moriarty wanted. A play thing.

"I'm back! I brought presents." Along with the whiskey, he had brought various other things they suspected Moriarty would like. Or things they knew he would.

Cerberus had raised his heads at John, but had mostly disregarded him. It was obviously going to let John back into Hell.

But it cocked its heads to the side at the man.... well, god, who was behind John. Despite not having seen its second ever master, and its longest running master for over a century, it knew who Sherlock was. It looked a bit confused, but happy that he was back, but looked into the throne room, then back to Sherlock.

"I have to stay out here, hidden, with you Cerberus." He gently petted the middle head, earning a growl of contentment. "John is going to go kill your master, I hope, and then I will rule here again.

Cerberus laid its heads down again, looking content that things would soon be back to normal.

--

Moriarty had been looking rather bored on the throne, but he jumped up and almost ran over to John, caressing him gently.

"Oh, I missed you, Johnny Boy." He said, saddling up close. "What did you bring me?" He looked like a kid at Christmas.

"A rare American Whiskey, I sampled it and it was very good." He said showing Moriarty the bottle.

He then showed him some books, a watch. Just honestly handsome things. But the biggest was the whiskey. He smiled and produced two glasses. He knew better than to assume Moriarty was going to drink alone.

Moriarty thinned his eyes. "You said you sampled it, yet this bottle looks unopened." He studied it carefully. "You drink it." He said. "All of it. And if its good, I can get someone to go get some more for me."

He was obviously not going to take any chances here, even if the bottle was unopened. He wasn't a fool.

"When I bought it, the seller let me sample a handful of whiskeys to find the right one." John said. His shoulders dropped.

"I just wanted to do something nice for you." He said sadly, "I'm sorry." John stared at his lap.

Moriarty sighed. He hated when John used the puppy dog eyes. "You will drink at least half of it. And then.. I might take a sip." He said, finally acquiescing a little bit.. He was still skeptical, but he took the whiskey and shook it up, so if there was anything on the bottom, it would be all through the whiskey, then handed it back.

"Come on, pet. Drink up."

John nodded and opened it. He poured himself a glass and downed it. And then another glass until half the bottle was gone. He sat there, watching Moriarty, there were no ill effects. Poisons were instant. Especially ones for a god.

"See, nothing's wrong." He said, "Besides wasting half a bottle of good whiskey."

"Oh, it's never a waste watching you suck something down." He almost purred.

"I think I'm going to have fun drinking the last of this whiskey, then I'm gonna let you give me a blow job, so I can feel those whiskey soaked lips on my cock." He looked down, apparently getting a little excited. "Or maybe, I should go ahead and do that right now... " he looked at John with e predatory grin.

John swallowed. "You can do both? Drink the whiskey while I'm sucking you off?" He offered. He didn't want to, but he had to keep up the apperances. He shifted a bit forward and pressed his hand over Moriarty's groin.

"Enjoy two things at once?"

Moriarty thinned his eyes again. "You seem awful excited to get me to drink this whiskey." He said, looking at the bottle. He had half a mind to throw it against the floor, but he abstained at the last minute.

"Get on your knees, pet, and let's see how that mouth works, and maybe we can talk about the whiskey later."

--

Sherlock was out of eye shot, but he had enough of a view from a little alcove in the ceiling, he could hear and see what was going on while staying in the shadows. It took every single little bit of his willpower to not get angry enough to give away his position. He bit the inside of his lip till he felt coppery blood. His body was thrumming but he stayed still and quiet, for now.

John went to his knees and swallowed. "I really just want you to try it." He admitted, "But it can wait." he focused on working Moriarty's cock free and then taking it in his mouth.

He swallowed and then began to bob his head up and down,

In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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