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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"Oh.. too much, my pet?" Surprisingly Moriarty actually pulled back a good bit, almost all the way out of John, holding himself there for a moment.

Then his eyes went cold again. "Too bad." He shoved himself hard again, deep and fast into John. It only took a few shallow thrusts before he was coming deep inside of John, way down this throat, massive amounts of his seed, much more than Sherlock ever produced.

He continued to thrust even after he was done, finally pulling back with a satisfying pop.

"Oh, my little one. You are such a good toy. It's a shame I'll have to get rid of you."

John coughed after swallowing the seed that Moriarty released. He heaved and then looked up. He whined and wiped his mouth. "Get rid of me?" He asked confused.

"Have I displeased you?"

Had Moriarty found out? No. He couldn't have. They were all so careful.

Sherlock tensed. He might have to go into action fast. He got ready to jump down and run into the throne room if needed.

--

Moriarty shook his head. "You were a wonderful little pet, but.. you have outstayed your welcome. And I can't have you sharing yourself with anyone else now, can I? " His voice was mockingly soft and gentle.

He grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured most of the rest of it over John's head, only leaving a small bit at the bottom.

But, you did insist that this was good whiskey, I suppose that I should give it a little try, so maybe you can see how much I enjoy it as I slit your throat.

Moriarty pushed John to the ground, using his foot to keep him immobile, pressing down enough to have crushed bone, if he had been a normal mortal. But it was enough to keep a demigod where he was. He had the remains of the whiskey bottle in one hand, and in the other, he created a blade with his magic.

"It wouldn't be enough to kill a REAL god." he mocked. "But a little half breed like you, this should slit your throat nicely.

John was panicking. He stared up at Moriarty, his eyes widen. Oh god. No. He couldn't leave Sherlock again. He refused to leave Sherlock again.

His eyes flashed red and gold shot from the floor, wrapping around Moriarty and holding him tight.

This wasn't the power of Persephone. It was Ares. It was pure Ares and pure magic. Rage fueled. Sherlock had once seen what the rage inside John Watson had done. He bared his teeth and then forced Moriarty to drink the last bit of the whiskey.

Once that was done, he used the power to throw Moriarty across the room and into a wall. John stood up, an overlay settling over him. He was Ares only heir, his only child. And all of that power lay in John Watson. Fueled by rage and desire.

The millisecond that Sherlock saw the power coming from John, he jumped down from the ceiling and ran into the throne room. By the time he was there, John had made Moriarty drink the whiskey, and before he could get to John, he had already thrown the man across the room.

"John!" He ran up to John, afraid to touch him, he was crackling with energy. He looked over to Moriarty, who was trying to sit up, but was weak, and was stumbling around.

He looked to John. "I have to kill him now. You shouldn't look." He had killed many people, but never in front of John, he didn't want John to see what he was about to have to do.

John looked at him and then nodded. He turned and then stopped. He looked back at Moriarty. "I hope you burn for eternity. You deserve it for killing my love." He hissed before pulling the power back under his skin.

He crossed to where Cerberus lay. John sighed and stroked the middle head gently. "All this upheaval."

Cerberus had been in the entry chamber, but the entrance between the two massive caves was huge, and it could see what was going on, though it knew that it couldn't interfere. It had watched with great interest.

Being a giant demon dog, it didn't have a lot of emotions to show, but its body seemed to be less tense now, it knew that its former master was finally coming back, and if a giant elephant sized demon hound could look happy, it would have. As it was, it gently pushed its middle head against John in what could almost be called a nuzzle.

__

Sherlock made sure that John was not looking. When h e could see that John was with Cerberus, he went to Moriarty and stood over him, putting his foot on the man's chest. He was weak enough that he couldn't get up.

He created a scythe with a wooden handle, a tool he knew had been associated with Death for eons.

He stood over Moriarty, scythe raised high. And he repeated the last words that Thanatos had ever said to him. "Good bye, Thanatos. I'm Lord of the Dead now."

One fell swoop, and his head was released from his body.

Immediately, he could feel he power surging back inside of him, all the powers of the Lord of the Dead.

"Cerberus. Fetch." He picked up the head by the hair and threw it high in the air. Cerberus, showing an extreme amount of dexterity for such a large dog, bounded past John and caught the head in its middle maw, gulping it down in one bite. Immediatly it went to the body and between the three heads made short work of it. There were only large spots of blood and little bits of flesh and cloth when they were done.

He looked over to John. "Sorry it was so gruesome, but it is done." He was glad that Moriarty was gone, but killing another god, even one as terrible as Thanatos, left a scar on his soul.

John turned and looked at him. He smiled at him. "It's okay. You were protecting me."

His world spun, a combination of the poison and using an unknown power. John made a noise before he collapsed into a heap.

He was not dead. Just exhausted. As a demi-god, rest was how he restored his power.

"John!!' He rushed over to the man, looking him over. Okay, he was breathing.. Breathing, what a silly archaic thing. But it meant that he was alive.

He looked to the chambers that Moriarty had made. Sherlock shook his head and with his magic made it just like John had had before, a small bed with a bedside table, and a small alcove with a toilet and shower, just like over a hundred years ago.

He laid John down, Gave him a light kiss on the forehead, then went back to the throne room and used the scrying crystal.

"Zeus. It's done. Inform the other gods that Hades is one more Lord of the Dead, and his Persephone rules with him." He severed the connection before his brother could answer, but he knew the word would go out instantaneously from Hermes, the Winged Messenger. In moments, all gods would know that he ruled Hell once again.

John woke days later. He stared up at a familiar sight. His room. Had that been a dream? He sat up and rubbed his face. He wasn't sure.

He got out of bed and went to clean up. A hot shower always helped. He pressed his head against the cool tile as hot water poured over him.

He imagined Sherlock's arms sliding around his waist. He imagined those lips laying kisses along his neck, hands stroking and touching. Before finally being breached, taken by the god.

The days had been filled with one thing or another for Sherlock. He checked in on John often, but he also had to do his actual job of ferrying souls, he undid all the changes that Moriarty had made to his home, the throne room especially, he put in a new throne for John, and he had made several trips up to Mount Olympus for meetings with Zeus and other gods to be filled in on what had happened while he was gone.

It wasn't until he heard the water running that he knew John was awake. He wanted to run to the man and kiss him all over, but he knew he was still recuperating, so he gave the man some space to come out when he was ready.

John didn't bring himself off. No. Instead he wanted it to be Sherlock. He got out of the shower and wrapped himself in robe. It was one he picked for Sherlock specifically. It was nearly sheer, giving a hint of what lay under.

He left his room.and crossed to where Sherlock sat. He put himself in the god's lap and smiled.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the man in the sheer robe walking towards him. He shifted a bit to give John room to sit in his lap.

"I assume you had a nice sleep then?" He asked with a little smirk. As much as he had never been one previously for human comforts, he liked the way John smelled when he came out of the shower, whatever the shampoo and soap was that he used had eucalyptus and mint in it. And of course there was still his underlying musk, even after cleaning himself.

Sherlock gave him a long, lingering kiss. But he stopped there. Moriarty had used and abused him. He had only seen the blow job, but he had done more. Sherlock had no idea how much more or what, and he wasn't sure what John was comfortable with doing.. if anything.

He would wait.. if he had to. As long as he had to, until John was comfortable again.

John settled himself in Sherlock's lap and nodded. "I did. The rest was needed. Though it was missing you." He answered with a small pout. He leaned against Sherlock, resting his head on the man's chest. He took a breath, though he didn't really need to. It was calming though.

He looked up to say something, but found himself kissing Sherlock. Oh it was wonderful. Wonderful. He wrapped an arm around Sherlock's neck, returning the kiss. He bit at the man's lips, wanting more.

Sherlock was going to say something, then John started kissing him back, taking advantage that his mouth was open (not that Sherlock was complaining), and it all floated away.

Of course he had missed John as well, but if he couldn't say it, he could show it in other ways.

He ran his hands up and down the cloth on John's back, feeling the sheer material bunch and move under his fingertips.

Sherlock licked and nipped back, his tongue finding John's mouth and exploring as much as his hands were. A low groan escaped his lips. Much longer like this and John was going to be... uncomfortable in his lap with something growing....

John squirmed against Sherlock's erection as he felt it pressing against him. There was something about the man that made him lose all sense. He bit at Sherlock's lower lip before pulling back.

"Take me to bed Hades." He whispered to him, "I need you."

He needed Sherlock to erase the memory of Moriarty.

"Are... Are you.. sure?" Sherlock look concerned.. He knew what had just happened a few days ago, and understood that it could be traumatic.

Even as he asked the question, though, he did rearrange John in his arms and stand up, holding him easily. He started walking towards John's room, worried that he would trigger old memories, but desperate to make new ones.

It never bothered him that Sherlock was so much stronger. It was his nature as a god. He was also nine feet tall when he wanted to be. But he loved it, knowing Sherlock could move him so easily if he wanted to.

"I am. I want you to make me forget it." John had done what was necessary to return Hades to Hell. And he would do it again and again. He would die for Sherlock.

"Alright." Came the simple answer.

Sherlock walked into John's room and laid him down gently on the bed. He knew they had talked about.. kinky things and that they would discuss it after he ruled Hell again, but this didn't seem like the best time. He just wanted to be close to, and inside John now. They had the rest of eternity to to discover other things.

One movement of the fingers, and they were both nude. Sherlock laid carefully on top of John, worshiping him in every way, with his mouth and tongue and teeth finding every little nook and cranny of his skin- licking, biting, kissing, making it known that he was adored.

John gasped and squirmed with each pass of those lips and teeth along his skin. It was a feeling he loved. Knowing Sherlock was worshiping him. That he adored him. He shuddered and arched when Sherlock found a sensitive area.

Oh god.

He wanted to stay like this forever, just the two of them. But they both had duties to attend to.

A small smile curled up at the corners of Sherlock's mouth. Oh, so he was particularly sensitive where his inner thigh met his belly, hmm? He filed that away for later, and licked and sucked his way back up John's body until they were kissing again, this time harder and more desperate than before.

He would worship John's body all day, if it reminded the man of how much he was loved, but he knew that there was something more that they both wanted.. needed right now.

John returned the kiss, one hand tangling in those glorious curls. He tugged and nipped at Sherlock's lips. It wasn't enough, but it was. And he wanted to feel the man move in him. He whined into the kiss before hooking one leg around Sherlock's waist. He pulled the man closer.

Another smirk played across his face. Oh, they both knew what they wanted.

Sherlock created lubrication for his fingers... he's rather have just pushed right in, but he had no idea what that bastard usurper had done to John, so he knew he had to be gentle.

His mouth and lips moved over John's skin while his finger pressed gently inside. He couldn't feel anything odd, like permanent damage from Thanatos, which was good. He pushed in until his arse hit against his knuckle, then started to thrust, slow at first.

John cried out when Sherlock pushed a finger into him. It was... It wasn't enough. He moved his free hand and clutched at his love's back. He dug his nails in, gasping.

Thanatos had been brutal, without mercy... But John was stronger. He had survived.

When Sherlock started to move his finger, he gasped and pushed to meet it.

It was only a few moments before he pressed a second finger in... and then a third.. Every few thrusts he would either scissor his fingers out to stretch John more, or hook his finger up to rub against John's prostate. The pain of John's nails in his back only urged his on harder and faster, both working towards the ultimate goal of being joined again.

In Plain Sight - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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