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.

Comments

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock's eyes went dangerously thin. His whole body burned like fire.

"GET. HIM. BACK."

His voice was low, an almost animalistic growl.

How in all the Realms did Fates find a way to sever the bond, to make him human again? Was it because he wasn't fully a god?

That didn't matter now. All that matters was getting John back.

There was apart of him that was hollow, empty, and he needed that part of his soul back. Obviously the severing hadn't truly fully happened, Sherlock left the emptiness of not having John.

He wondered if John felt the same.

Sherlock stared at Fates. He couldn't strike the man down, they were both gods, but he could hurt him if he had to.

Anything to get his John back.

[ihadabadday]

"He won't come back. He knew you didn't want a companion. That you never did." He said softly, "He returned to London."

Greg stepped back, watching him. Studying him. "You care for him. Why did you never tell him so?"

[seaweed_writes]

"I could find him, bring him back down, feed him again. It worked once, so it would work again." He didn't actually know if it would work again, he didn't know what that did the last time until he did it. But it was worth a try.

Sherlock's eyes went a bit wide at the question. " Hades? The Lord of the Underworld, in love with some... mortal?" He made a tsking sound. It sounded a lot less convincing when he said it than it had in his head.

[ihadabadday]

"It might not work." He said with a slow shrug. Greg watched him, his eyes distant.

"It will not work. You know that. But you are always to be entwined with John Watson, no matter the life. And no matter the life, he will always be John Watson, and he will always be the descendant of Ares."

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock stumbled back a bit, falling into his chair with a grunt.

He had been stupid and prideful and now he had lost John forever.

Or... had he?

"If he is the decedent of Ares, and he was a demi god... will.... he get old and die?

He held his chest, where his heart would have been, if he had one.

"I felt it.. when he became mortal." He was speaking to himself as much as Greg. "It felt like part of me was being... burnt away.. it's empty now, I have a hole inside of me."

[ihadabadday]

Greg laughed. It couldn't help it. He really couldn't. There were even fates that he couldn't forsee. They changed so fast and any little thing could change the course.

"I never could have imagined. A god and a demi-god as soulmates, when you don't have a soul. Or perhaps you do. And it's John Watson."

The Fates looked down. "John Watson will grow old and he will die. But he will be reborn, and he will continue to be the descendant of Ares."

[seaweed_writes]

His eyes thinned again. He didn't like the insinuation that Greg was making.

But the problem was, Sherlock was afraid that he might be right.

His body felt like lead. He was going to have to watch John grow old, and then die. And then be reborn again, over and over, he could look but he could never again touch.

"And he will have no memory of me.." Of how I treated him, or what I did to him, how he felt about me- he thought.

[ihadabadday]

Greg settled for shrugging and then vanished in a swirl of light. The Fates was not in a mood today. Not since he was seeing his friend, his only friend, tear himself apart.

John returned to his normal life. He returned to everything, catching up on years of medical advancements, technology and social. He met and married a woman who reminded him of Sherlock, but he never said it. They had a daughter. And he watched as Gods moved into the mortal realm, starting businesses and creating empires. It was a fascinating change. But the one god he had hoped would appear never did.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock knew that he could go see John, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. John deserved a clean break. He probably had stopped thinking about Sherlock, so there was no need to remind him again.

But that didn't mean that he would watch. Sherlock used the scrying crystal to observe John. He watched as the man became a doctor, got married, had a child. He seemed happy, getting on with the life that he would have had if Sherlock hadn't robbed him of almost 5 years of his life in Hell.

Sherlock didn't care that some of the gods were going down to the Overworld and getting close to the mortals. After John left, he didn't set foot there. He couldn't. He just couldn't be in the place that John was without being with him.

And so he watched John grow old. His child got married and had a child of her own, a boy they named after his grandfather. He watched John's wife get sick and die. He personally ferried her to the Pool of Souls once she arrived in Hell.- it was the least that he could do for John.

And then, years later when John's grandson was married and about to start a family of his own, John got sick.

He was not long for this world. And that was when Sherlock finally decided to see him, to help him shuffle off the mortal coil.

He took a shape he hadn't taken in close to 50 years, the mortal version of himself, tall and thin, in a black bespoke suit and a long black coat.

He walked into the hospital room where John lay, quiet and dying.

"Hello, John." he said, softly, to the sleeping man.

[ihadabadday]

John had a good life. A wonderful life. But there was a constant presence he often wished for again. Sherlock. He missed the god so. But no doubt the man didn't miss him. Didn't think much at all on their time together. That it was just a blip in his eternal life.

He wasn't sure why, but he opened his eyes. He was old and but his mind was still there. And he knew that silhouette anywhere, that shape. Not saying anything, he moved his hand and reached out, touching Sherlock's. He smiled softly.

John was still warm like fire and as bright as light.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock hadn't aged this form, he looked exactly like he had nearly 50 years ago when they had met in that alley in London.

Oh, those eyes, such a dark blue, like a stormy sea. He had missed those. His hair was gray and thin, just wisps in some places. His face was wrinkles, his eyes sunk, but it was still John.

His John.

Those eyes of his were a little gray and foggy with age, but he could see Sherlock, that much was obvious.

"I'm here, John I'm here to take you home."

[ihadabadday]

He squeezed Sherlock's hand and smiled. He was happy to see Sherlock. He had spent the past fifty years hoping that he would see the man again. And now here he was and he could die in peace. He closed his eyes, the life fading from him.

John Watson was gone.

But his soul could not be taken to the Underworld no. He was a descendant, it would go elsewhere to be reborn.

[seaweed_writes]

There were no final words. He had come just a bit too late.

But John had known that he was there. And he guessed that would have to be enough for him.

As his heart monitor flatlined, he watched John's soul leave. He tried to grab it, but it was like smoke in his fingers. It faded away, and John was gone, truly gone.

He didn't really notice the doctors and nurses come in and pushed Sherlock to the side. They tried to resuscitate him, but Sherlock knew that of course it was no use.

They called the time of death, too busy with John to see that the man that had been there faded into nothingness.

Sherlock arrived back in Hell a moment later.

"AHHHHHH!!!!" In a fit of anger, he shot of bolts of lighting all around, screaming up to the heavens, destroying the rock around him. Even Cerberus retreated into another room. It had seen his masters very rare foul moods, and knew better than to get int he way.

Sherlock stormed around, destroying whatever he could find, until he was drained. He collapsed into his chair, his head in his hands.

[ihadabadday]

Greg appeared, he wasn't sure how long it was since John Watson had passed.

"You look terrible." He told his friend as he crossed the room. He noticed the rubble and how it looked aged and how Sherlock was still appearing as a human.

"John Watson was reborn today."

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock had no idea how long it had been, and honestly he didn't care. He hadn't even bothered to change back to his normal form since he had come from the Overworld.

Sherlock looked at Greg, flashing him a look.

"And now he will grow up having no idea that he is the descendant of a god, or that he had ever been to Hell. So what does that have to do with me?" He grumbled.

*HIS* John was gone, and he would never come back. It didn't matter how many times he was reborn, he would never have the man he... well.. whatever he felt about him back.

"He won't know me. He is John Watson in name only."

[ihadabadday]

"He will have the memories, but they will be locked away." Greg walked over to Sherlock before kneeling down in front of the man.

He touched the man's shoulder. "Sherlock... There is a way, but you would have to relocate."

[seaweed_writes]

Locked away? What was he talking about? There was a way that he could get his John back?

"He won't be the same, he won't look the same or act the same, he won't be the same John, even if he does get the memories back." Sherlock argued.

"Why would I have to relocate out of Hell to make John remember again?" It made no sense. He had no want to go back to the Overworld. "Besides, I can only go back and forth from Hell once a year. It wouldn't be very .. convenient to ferry souls."

[ihadabadday]

Greg explained. As many of the gods, who often had the same limitations, were bypassing them. By moving their realms into Overworld in the guise of businesses. It allowed them the same luxuries as other gods who were able to walk among those in Overworld entirely.

He explained it would take time to build it, to transfer everything. And when someone was reborn, a descendant, they would eternally look the same as when their power first manifested.

[seaweed_writes]

"So, I will have to move to the Overworld and try to figure out some sort of... mortal business to get into so I could set up shop up there. And then I will have to both run whatever this company was and do my job to ferry souls to Hell." He said in a rather bored voice.

It wasn't like his job was particularly hard, but he didn't really relish taking on additional responsibilities.

"What could Hades do in the Overworld that would interest those... humans?" A smile filled his face.

"A crematorium." It would be a nice way to get the dead bodies' souls and then dispose of them as well.

If he had to do this to get his John back, so be it.

"What do I have to do?"

[ihadabadday]

"That could work. But I'm told there is quite a business in souls. People selling them for things that they want. Power, fame, money..." Greg stood up and stepped back.

"Whatever you decide, I will be there to support you." The Fates was eternally wound with Hades. Over and over they would rotate around one another. Each other's support.

[seaweed_writes]

The evil smile grew on his face. Of course Sherlock had listened to countless Blood Whispers, but they weren't the same as offering a soul.

"So I could give people what they want, and then collect thier souls after they die. Which I am going to do anyways." He said. He gave Greg the first real true smile while his mind pondered all of the possibilities. "Are the humans really that stupid to offer thier souls for a quick fuck or a quick buck? And.. would I have the powers to actually grant thier wishes? It would certainly be easier than cremating. I wont need any machinery or such to give those greedy bastards what they want."

[ihadabadday]

Greg nodded. "You will. I will make sure of it." He answered. He then extended his hand to Sherlock.

"Shall we?" he asked.

Mortals were desperate. Always so desperate for everything, for things they didn't have, couldn't have, yearned for.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock shook the man's hand, feeling the magical tingle of a binding contract between them.

The next couple of years were mostly a blur. Thankfully, Sherlock needed very little staff, as he had a hard time keeping people for long with his personality. He found a little building in London to work out of. People were hired to advertise and run the actual business part of the business. They were selling their souls, but there was still money involved as well. They had power bills to pay, after all.

And in the basement of the building, behind two locked rooms that only Sherlock could get to, and magically sealed, was a door back to Hell.

He often went back to Hell, sometimes several times a day to watch the reincarnation of John Watson grow from a loud, annoying crying baby, to a toddler, taking his first steps and saying his first words.

[ihadabadday]

The Fates ran most of the day to day staff, allowing Sherlock to do most of the deals for mortals souls. He was the people person of the two of them. Supporting the mortals through tears and screams of fear, want and fright.

His name was still John Watson. It seemed the Fates was right that every incarnation would be John Watson through and through.

He was a dynamic child, vibrant and curious. He grew up to be an equally dynamic man. One who defended those weaker, less able. He rose above circumstance and worked hard to get into medical school, a good one. He wanted to help people.

[seaweed_writes]

The man had been in his 30's when Sherlock met him the first time.

Sherlock was patient, but the more that he watched John become closer and closer to the man that he had known now coming close to a century before, he decided that the time was coming nigh to.. introduce himself again.

But how to do it?

And how was he going to unlock those memories?

One night after work, Sherlock cornered Greg.

"John Watson, his 30th birthday was soon. I believe that he was about 35 when I met his first incarnation. It will soon be time for me to meet him again. You said that I can unlock his memories, but you never told me how. How do I do it? How do I make him the John Watson that I knew?"