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.

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[ihadabadday]

"I know." John looked at him.

He and Fates had found a way to sever the bond. To return John Watson to the mortal coil. It would only be a matter of time until he returned.

That's what Sherlock always wanted, right? To not be saddled with a companion.

He had heard rumblings of some of the Gods changing the way they did things, becoming modern, more human. To seem more approachable, to encourage people to come to them. Sleek skyscrapers and contracts were replacing the old.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock studied the man. There was a lot said there in two words.

He looked.. almost... sad. But why was he sad, didn't he wants this, or maybe it was because he knew that whatever it was that he wanted, Sherlock couldn't give it to him?

He just wasn't sure.

When there was nothing else coming, Sherlock threw up his hands again. "Then what do you want me to do?" He asked, getting more frustrated by the moment. It was obvious that Sherlock couldn't care for this man like he wanted, so what did John want from him?

[ihadabadday]

"Nothing." He answered. John looked to one of the plants in his room. He would miss this place, oddly enough.

"I don't want anything from you. I just wanted you to know."

[seaweed_writes]

"Oh... okay." He got the distinct sense that there was something else here, that John wanted to say or do more, but Sherlock was not a mind reader, even with all the powers that he had. If John wanted to tell him something, he was going to have to say it.

"Well, if there is nothing else then.." He turned around and went back to his throne room. There was something going on, but he had no idea what it could be. He shrugged it off and went back to work.

[ihadabadday]

John swallowed and watched him go. Well. At least he didn't suspect anything. For now. He knew Sherlock resented him here, just wanting a plaything, but getting a companion instead.

Time later, he went to Sherlock, watching him for a moment. "Can you remove the plug?"

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock had been deep in thought, trying to figure out the enigma that was John Watson, and exactly what it was that he felt for the man but he seemed no closer to solving that mystery than he had been before.

He was surprised for a moment when John came up to him and asked that. It was still only very early spring, it wasn't like he could go back to the Overworld yet.

Or.. did he want more from Sherlock?

That seemed unlikely.

"Alright. though I have to wonder why." He said, in a clipped tone. He waved his fingers and the plug disappeared. He was not disappointed though by the wonderful flood of his own come that flowed like a river down John's thighs and into a puddle onto the stone floor below.

Sure, he could clean it, but he didn't think he was going to. He liked the reminder permanently stained into the ground.

[ihadabadday]

"Thank you." John nodded to Sherlock and retreated back to his room. He got in the shower and cleaned himself up. Without a word he dressed and then left Hell.

Part of him didn't want to go, to leave, but he knew that he wasn't what Hades wanted. He was a companion, not a toy. And John wanted more from it.

The process was not easy. It was painful and it felt like he was being ripped in two. But soon enough he was returned to the Overworld with the funds he would need to start his life over again.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock couldn't help but watch John walk, still slightly leaking towards his room. Well, he guessed, he wasn't quite ready for round three, but he would come around soon enough.

Or Sherlock would make him come around.

He only half paid attention when John left his room. He was, of course, free to wander anywhere in Hell that he wanted, and the an sometimes took a walk around to stretch his legs, so he thought nothing of it.

Sometime later, about the same time as Sherlock noticed that John hadn't come back yet, which seemed like an unusually long time to be gone, he felt a pain. It was low and dull at first, but it grew and grew until he was crumpled on the ground, writhing in pain.

He, the lord of Hell, felt like he was burning from the inside, and he had no idea why.

Then, as suddenly as it was there, it stopped. He felt no pain, but he felt.. empty inside, like a part of him had been burned away.

In a flash, he searched every single corner of Hell, but here was no John.

"FATES! COME TO ME!" He yelled up towards the heavens. He ran to his scrying crystal and immediately got the attention of Greg. "HERE! NOW!" He demanded.

[ihadabadday]

Greg appeared in a swirl of light, looking quite exhausted. "Yes?" he asked.

He saw the state of Sherlock and knew it wouldn't be long until the man figured it out. From his ages of knowing Sherlock, he knew the man would have wanted this. To be free from the companion he'd unknowingly gained.

But right now, seeing his state, he wasn't so sure.

[seaweed_writes]

"WHERE IS JOHN?" He demanded, grabbing the collar of Greg's robe and jerking him forward towards him. He had never, ever been bodily towards Greg before.

When Greg was just a few centimeters away, he growled, his eyes glowing red, the flames atop his head burning a bright, hot almost bluish color.

"WHAT. DID. YOU. DO."

[ihadabadday]

Greg was not frightened. He removed Sherlock's hands from his robes. "He's returned to the Overworld, permanently. He knew you didn't want a companion and found a way to sever the bond and return to a normal life as a mortal." he told him calmly.

[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."