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]

"Well, that is rather presumptuous of you." Sherlock scoffed. "You have no idea how many sexual partners that I have had. And I can tell you that I have been inside almost all of them," This was true. He never received, he either fucked them to within an inch of their lives (or sometimes beyond) or he made them suck him off. (And sometimes that ended up bad for them as well).

Of course he would never admit that obviously except for HIS John, he was better than anyone else he had ever been inside. He didn't need to know that.

Sherlock hardly had any worldly belongings. Why would he need stupid mortal comforts? If did indeed move in with this man, he would need to buy.. whatever it was that humans had, to keep his cover.

[ihadabadday]

John shrugged a bit at that answer. "Why don't you just start by staying the night then?" He offered.

After a moment he got up. "Or you can go home." He said. John wasn't sure anymore about his burgeoning feelings for this man. He seemed doubtful. John knew wasn't he doubtful, that he felt something for Sherlock. But if the man was just using him for a quick shag...

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock could sense the man's disquiet. He wasn't trying to pus John away of course, but he really had no idea what he was doing when it came to these mortal emotions that he was trying to figure out.

"I would like to stay the night." he said, getting up and standing close to John. "This wasn't just a shag and leave." He continued, not even sure why he was still speaking or what he was going to stay. "This was..." He trailed off, trying to figure out how to complete the sentence. "..Nice"

It wasn't great, but hopefully it was enough for John, for now at least. even saying that simple thing had been inordinately hard.

[ihadabadday]

He reached up and stroked Sherlock's cheek. He smiled at him and then nodded. "Alright then. I want to shower." He informed his new lover.

John stepped away and headed back towards the bathroom.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock watched John go into the loo and close the door. He had no idea what the protocol was now. Was he supposed to join John in the shower, or just wait here until he was done? All of his other shags were a fuck and then gone. There was no lingering, there was no talking, and there was certainly no showering afterwards.

He looked down at himself, he was a bit of a mess himself. One quick sweep of his fingers would get him clean, but then how would he explain that to John?

Sherlock sighed, and decided that staying slightly messy and naked was preferable to dirtying the only pair of clothes that he had with him.

So he slumped down on the couch and waited for John, trying to occupy his mind so he didn't die of boredom first

Not that he actually COULD die, but he was sure he was going to if the man took too long.

[ihadabadday]

John came out of the bathroom only ten minutes later, wrapped in a fluffy blue robe. He smiled when he saw Sherlock. "You look like you might melt into my couch." He moved over and sat next to Sherlock, but not close enough to touch.

He glanced at the man and then away. "If you want to clean up, I did lay out a fresh towel for you."

[seaweed_writes]

The couch, for all its rather ugly camel brown pleather look, was much more comfortable than it had any right to be. If he had needed sleep, he might have actually taken a nap.

As it was though, he just sat there for 10 minutes and sank into his thoughts until John returned.

"Oh.. umm.. thanks." He had never taken a shower before, but it seemed the prudent thing to do.

He got up and headed into the loo. It was still warm and steamy from when John had been there, and he sighed softly. It reminded him of Hell, of home. He actually kind of missed the place, and he decided then that after John he was going to spend a bit of time there. It was odd to be homesick, but he spent so much time there in the past that it had just become a part of him.

Except, of course for the past 30 years.

He turned on the shower as hot as it would go, the dial all the way to the left, and decided that if John had taken about 10 minutes, that was what he would do.

Sherlock used his magic to clean himself, but thought that he might should smell like he cleaned, so he rubbed something from a bottled called 'shampoo' all over himself and lathered it in, so he would smell clean. it smelt like John's hair, and he found himself twitching softly at the thought. He had rather liked how John's hair smelt.

Almost exactly 10 minutes later, he got out, wrapped the towel almost dangerously low on his hips, and went back into the living room, feeling surprisingly refreshed.

Maybe he would have to take these.. shower things more often.

[ihadabadday]

John had actually drifted off to sleep, looking so peaceful and at ease. He had a long day at the A&R, and a rather full night. His phone was on the table and buzzing slightly with a text.

He didn't think his day would end up like this. Meeting someone like Sherlock, bringing him home.

[seaweed_writes]

He was quite surprised when he saw that John was asleep. This was his chance to leave if he wanted to, even to go back to Hell for a bit if he wanted to.

But he found that he didn't want to.

He wanted to stay with John, and find whatever the key was to opening those memories, the HIS John that was locked up tight in there, somewhere.

He looked down at the text, reading the screen before it went black again.

If he had had a beating heart, it would have stopped.

[ihadabadday]

The message was from someone simply named Harper. It read 'had fun the other day, look forward to it again'.

John Watson was not in a relationship. He had a couple of friend whom he slept with on a semi-rotating basis.

He shifted a bit on the couch, but remained asleep.

[seaweed_writes]

Harper. Either a last name, or a male first name. Sherlock read it again. It was pretty innocent sounding, they could have had fun going to get a beer, or watching one of those.. sport things that mortals did.

Sherlock was surprised at the spike of jealous that went through him. He didn't watch John every hour of every day.. He had caught the man having sex once or twice while using his scrying crystal to watch him. But every time he did, he immediately stopped watching. He couldn't watch the man have sex with someone else.

Was this just a random friend, or.. something more to John? Maybe he could reply to this.. Harper person, pretend to be John to get more information. But what would he ask to be prying, but not so much so that it would seem suspicious?

Before he could do anything else, the phone buzzed again.

[ihadabadday]

'Look forward to sinking my cock in that plush arse of yours again.' Attached was a picture of a well endowed hard cock.

There were other men out there that were having John Watson, claiming him in the way that Sherlock had.

He shifted a bit on the couch, his robe falling open just a bit. He was nude under it.

[seaweed_writes]

Burning red hatred flamed in Sherlock's eyes. This man had had John, taken him.. what should have been his all along.
When John shifted, and his robe fell open, he could see that soft, pink cock laying against his thigh, the cock that he had licked, stroked, had taken into his body.

He didn't even give a second thought to the picture of the cock, longer and thicker than John's with a strange leftwards bent to it. This man would pay.

Sherlock had a favor to cash in.

To do human business, he had a mobile phone, one he didn't use more than he had to. But this was important.

He texted Charon, his ferryman for the dead.

I need you to kill a mortal. I don't care how, or what you do with him, make it look like a suicide.

Charon was about as hedonistic as him, and he knew that if he told the man he didn't care how he died, it would most likely involve non consensual sex, a lot of blood, and pain before the man died.

Text me when its done.

He put up his phone, smiling at a job well done.

[ihadabadday]

John shifted a bit and then opened his eyes. He looked at Sherlock. He sat up and rubbed his face. "Sorry, I must have drifted off to sleep. I had a long day in the A&R..." He yawned and then shifted to lean against Sherlock. He didn't see his phone in the man's hand.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock quickly hid the phone behind his back, using his body to block what he was doing while his hand went behind his back and put it back on the table.

He stood up to disguise what he had done. "You'll sleep better if you are in your own bed." he said, offering John his hand to help him up to his feet, trying to avoid looking at the robe that was hanging open. Sherlock was still only in his towel, he hadn't even had time to get dressed yet.

[ihadabadday]

He whined but then took Sherlock's hand and stood up. "Are you going to come with me? Or do you want to go home?" He hoped he was hiding the look of hopefulness on his face.

He wanted Sherlock to stay and wanted more with the man. He knew he would need to cut out some of his friends with benefits over the months.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock didn't need to sleep, and he didn't really want to lay in bed for 8 hours or however long John was going to be asleep, waiting for him to wake up again.

If he thought waiting for 10 minutes might kill him with boredome, 8 hours would be pure torture.

But he saw the look on John's face, the one he tried to hide but was doing an awful job at it.

"I will stay." He said, softly. Maybe he could get up when John was asleep and amuse himself on John's laptop while the man snoozed away.

[ihadabadday]

John led him to his bedroom. Truthfully, he never brought his friends with benefits over, he just went to their place. He sat on the bed and watched Sherlock for a moment.

"Are you human?" He asked after a moment. His entire life he'd had an intuition when it came to gods versus humans.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock froze where he stood, by the bed, in front of a sitting John.

Even though gods were in the Overworld, and humans knew that they were there, they almost never actually revealed who they were. These companies that the gods ran employed humans, demigods, and gods, so there was no telling who on the staff was a god. Often, the head of the company was a just a human puppet, a person placed there to do the gods bidding so they didn't have to get directly involved.

There was no hard and fast rule saying that you couldn't reveal yourself as a god while in the Overworld, but it was... frowned upon.

"Why would you think I wasn't a human?" Sherlock asked warily. He he done something to reveal himself? He had been so careful. He went over the past hours but couldn't think of any giveaways.

"I could ask the same of you. Are you human?" Sherlock knew John would say yes, even though that wasn't the whole truth.

[ihadabadday]

"You... You have this aura about you. It's something I've always seen around various people. So I assumed that you might not be fully human." The blonde looked down at his hands, "If I overstepped my bounds..."

John let out a breath. "You don't have to stay. You can go." He got up and nearly ran into the bathroom, shutting the door. He didn't want Sherlock to see. He was trembling, and it almost felt like like... Like there was something under the surface, threatening to break free. He didn't want Sherlock to see the gold in his eyes.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock let out a long sigh. If he wanted to get the man's memories back, he was going to have to be honest with him.

He walked over to the loo and spoke through the door. "No. " He said simply. "I am not human." He didn't really want to elaborate on that.

"I don't need to sleep, but I want to stay with you." He said, loudly enough that he knew he could be heard. "I can stay with you in your bed until you fall asleep. And I can be there when you wake in the morning, if you would like for me to."

[ihadabadday]

"Please go." John asked quietly. He just...

He didn't want Sherlock to see him like this. He barely noticed as there was a gold glow around him.

It seemed the part of him that was Ares and Persephone, the years he had been both the sides had merged to become something new, was awakening before his memories did.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock almost roared in frustration, pacing back and forth in front of the loo door.

He didn't understand these mortals and their weird emotions. First he said that he wanted him to stay, now he says that he wants him to go. Which is it? Why can't these humans make up their feeble little minds?

"Fine. I thought you wanted me to stay. If you want me to go, I will." He turned away from the loo door. Maybe it wasn't worth the fight. If John was going to be like this, then he wasn't the John that he remememberd, that he wanted.

He'd go back to Hell. Fuck the company and fuck the Fates, he was no help anyways.


Maybe he'd stop for a good hard revenge fuck while he was at, find some junkie that he could kill that no ne would care about.

[ihadabadday]

He didn't know what was wrong. It didn't know why he was feeling like he was being split in two. Oh god it hurt. He crumpled onto the floor with a cry, holding his head. What was going on? Why did it hurt like this?

John sobbed and curled against himself. It felt like lightening rocketing through him, ripping him open and breaking him.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock was walking away, he was about to send himself back to hell when he heard the yelling.

"John!" He ran back, thankfully he hadn't locked the door (not that that would have actually stopped a god, but he wasn't about to rip John's door unless he had no other choice."

The man was on the floor, curled up. He looked like he was in immense pain.

"John!" He took the couple of steps into the tiny loo and kneeled next to John, He already had his mobile phone out. "I'm calling 999. I'll get the paramedics here for you." He didn't have any healing powers himself, and he had no friends among the gods to call, so he was going to have to trust the man to mortal medicine.

If they failed to help him, Hell would come for all of them.

Literally.