Sherlock glanced down once more, before throwing his phone away behind him.
Please, God, be there, you irresponsible fool.
He strained his eyes, knowing it was futile- if Loki didn't want to be seen, nobody would see him, not even Sherlock. He just hoped the god of mischief would actually be down there, otherwise he would be scraping a flattened Sherlock off the pavement.
He blinked at John once more, trying to quell the pain and ache that he got in his chest as he memorised his friend's face, before spreading his arms and closing his eyes, dropping off the edge of the roof with a prayer to a god who was most likely laughing at him.
There was a jolt in his stomach as he fell, and the wind was cold, making his coat flap up around him, as his hands reflexively grasped for something to hold on to.
He vaguely heard John's scream of his name, and scrunched his eyes up as the pavement hurtled towards him. Or rather, he hurtled towards the pavement.
Loki, you bastard, you said you'd be there!
Sherlock hit the ground more gently than physics would allow, and he felt strong, invisible arms encase him.
"Quickly, you don't have much time," said a silky voice in his ear.
Sherlock, lying on the floor, but not feeling any of the impact he should have felt, having just fallen who-knows how many feet from the sky, rolled over, and saw familiar green eyes sparkling with amusement.
"I thought you'd forgotten," he gasped, his breath having fled him due to the adrenaline of falling to his could-have-been death.
Loki scoffed and grinned, and passed a hand over Sherlock's eyes. "Shh, you don't have time. I'll deal with it."
Some sort of magic plundered Sherlock's body, and his limbs went limp. He blinked upwards, feeling Loki's magic working.
A hot liquid was gathering around Sherlock's head- fake blood. His pulse was slowing down and his breathing stopped. Sherlock's vision was blacking out, but his eyes didn't close.
Loki was putting him in a death-like state.
Sherlock sighed, and let the magic overtake him.
Sherlock gained consciousness slowly. He could hear someone moving around him. He could feel a cold slab underneath him. He wasn't wearing his coat anymore, and someone had removed his shoes. His hair was sticky, and he felt shivery.
He blinked his eyes open, and was blinded by a white light. He lifted an arm to shield his eyes, and titled his head up to look around. He spied Molly Hooper as the only other person in the room.
The woman, who was busying herself near the sink, gasped and whirled around.
"God above! Oh, you're alive!" she rushed over and pushed her fingers up against Sherlock's neck. "You didn't have a pulse! I was so afraid! Th-there was blood everywhere!"
She looked utterly frazzled, and alarmed, and surprised, and most of all, terrified. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were puffy and red. Sherlock felt somewhat bad for not telling her the whole truth, but how could he, without getting submitted into the psychiatric ward.
Molly, I might die, but don't worry, it's just the magic of a mythical god.
Speaking of which...
The doors to the morgue banged open, and Molly shrieked, shoving Sherlock down roughly, and attempting to hide his body.
"Aside, Lady, I know Sherlock Holmes."
It was Loki, and Sherlock pushed himself up to see him.
"How long have I been out?" he asked, but Loki paid him no mind, pushing Molly to one side so he could press a cold hand to Sherlock's forehead.
"Less than an hour. My spell wasn't too strong."
Molly looked scandalised, and was panicking, and Sherlock knew he should explain, but he was too busy staring at Loki.
He had chosen human clothing, which was nice, as there is only so much Asgardian leather a man can take before he goes mad (too many fastenings and buttons and layers). His hair was less oiled, as if Loki had left his house in a rush, or had been running his hands through it. His eyes were cold and calculating, as he measured Sherlock's vitals with a single touch.
"You look awful," Sherlock said bluntly.
"Ruin and defeat does that to a person."
Sherlock chuckled, and gently removed Loki's hand from his head. "Yes. Quite impressive what you did over there last year. Mycroft was going spare, dealing with the damage."
"Let us all pray for the end of elder brothers then, shall we?"
Sherlock gave a grim smile, still holding Loki's hand in his own.
"W-what on earth is going on?" Molly squeaked, surveying the two with wide eyes. "Who the hell are you?"
Loki's eyes flickered to Molly, and he rolled them exasperatedly, ignoring her.
"Six years, Sherlock, and not even a hello?" he asked with a wry smile.
"Hello," Sherlock supplied. "Although I know that's not true for you. I know you've been keeping tabs on me. I'm not an idiot."
"If you were, I wouldn't be keeping tabs on you at all."
"Too busy felling New York?" Sherlock teased, and tried to get up off the morgue slab. Loki held him down, urging him to rest.
"Don't speak to me of New York," Loki said bitterly. "The only peace I get from remembering the whole experience is the image of Tony Stark's face as I threw him out of a window."
Sherlock grinned. "Why didn't you visit?"
Loki's face was carefully blank. After a moment he said, "You were busy."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "For the god of lies, you are surprisingly bad at it."
Loki hesitated, before fixing Sherlock's shirt collar. "Because if I had, I would have been too distracted."
They stared at each other for a while.
Molly cleared her throat tentatively. "Um...Sherlock?"
He looked at her. She seemed utterly lost, and somewhat afraid of the tall, pale figure dominating the whole room.
"Molly, I can't sufficiently thank you enough," Sherlock told her honestly. "I trust the autopsy and report are properly carried out?"
She nodded, gaze flickering between Loki's stony face, and Sherlock.
"Good. I think this is one of the situations where it is best that you don't ask too many questions," Sherlock told her, and she looked as if she was about to protest, but wisely shut her mouth.
"I will be back," he told her, giving her a small smile. "It is imperative that you keep the truth hidden. Especially from John."
Molly nodded again. "Are you not going to tell me who this is?"
"This is Loki. He saved me from the fall," Sherlock said, glancing up at Loki's immovable face. After a second's hesitation, he said, "He's my husband."
Molly's expression was so priceless, even Loki cracked a small smile.
She choked. "H-husband?" she trilled, going very red in the face. "Husband?"
Sherlock tightened his grip on Loki's hand.
"You never said-" Molly was finding it hard to get a sentence out, and was flailing and stuttering. "Why didn't you tell me you're married? All this time I've been..."
Sherlock shrugged. "Loki is very rarely in London."
"Or on Earth, for that matter," Loki spoke suddenly, and then raised his hand up to Molly's head. A fine green mist emanated from his fingers, and Molly gaped up at them for a moment, before passing out.
"Was that really necessary?" Sherlock asked, after a moment's silence, as they watched Molly being magically levitated to a chair.
"She was annoying me."
"You were jealous."
"Now is not the time for your childish deductions."
Sherlock smirked. "Jealousy."
"Don't be absurd," Loki sniffed.
"Maybe if you visited more often, I wouldn't have to pretend."
Loki said nothing, but his eyes looked sad. He went over to Molly's cupboard, and pulled out Sherlock's coat. He came back over, and helped Sherlock into it.
"You know why I can't," he spoke quietly, unnecessarily holding Sherlock's arms as he hopped down from the slab.
"Yes, but then you can't be jealous when people think I'm unattached."
"You can tell them you are married," Loki said haughtily, and Sherlock smirked up at him, as he went to retrieve his shoes.
"People don't believe anything without evidence."
Loki pulled a face. "Stupid humans. Come back with me to Asgard."
"Come live with me in London."
"I ca- oh, very clever," Loki drawled. "How very me of you."
Sherlock smiled again, finding his shoes and slipping them on. "Do you need to leave now?"
Loki was still and silent, giving no reply, and when Sherlock had done his shoes, came up behind him and held onto his shoulders. "I can leave whenever I want."
"That's a lie."
Sherlock knew Loki had rules to abide now. After his stunt in New York, Loki wasn't allowed anywhere without supervision. It was a miracle he was allowed to come to Earth at all, but then again, Thor had always had a soft spot for Sherlock, the strange human who had captured Loki's heart. Maybe Loki was on parole.
"I know it's a lie," Loki breathed into Sherlock's neck. "I just want it to be true."
The cold of his fingers were managing to seep through Sherlock's coat, and his equally cold nose was pressed up behind Sherlock's ear.
"Come on," Sherlock said. "We need to leave."
Loki nodded. "Wait one moment."
He turned Sherlock around, and held his hands either side of Sherlock's head. A hot gas swept over Sherlock's skin, making him close his eyes. A second later, it lifted, and in Loki's arms, a dead body, the exact replica of Sherlock, was lying prone.
"Nice," Sherlock remarked, helping Loki haul it onto slab.
"It pains me to see such an image," Loki muttered vaguely, a tiny crease marking between his eyebrows.
"We can't all live forever," Sherlock smiled.
"Then come live with me on Asgard."
"Stop pressing that matter!"
Loki glared at Sherlock, the most emotion he had shown yet.
"You do look terrible," Sherlock brushed a finger under Loki's left eye.
Loki caught his hand, and tugged him closer. "Where have you been all this time?" he said sadly, his clear green eyes shining.
"In London, where you left me," Sherlock reminded him.
Loki sighed, and rested his head against Sherlock's shoulder. "I am-"
"An idiot?" Sherlock suggested, and Loki tugged sharply on his hair, then grimaced as the fake blood, sticky and dark red, came away on his fingers. A wave of his hand, and Sherlock's hair was clean, and Loki fixed an errant curl.
"I will take you wherever you need to go, but then I have to leave," Loki said, and Sherlock felt a pang in his chest.
"Fine," he said shortly, and pulled away from Loki's embrace. "Take me to Mycroft's house."
Loki nodded slowly, then grasped Sherlock's left hand in both of his again. He passed a spell over his hand, and a glowing golden light emerged from around Sherlock's fourth finger- their binding.
"Good Sherlock, clever Sherlock, always faithful Sherlock," Loki muttered, ceasing his magic, and the immortal ring vanished.
"If I hadn't been faithful, what would you do?" Sherlock asked, half curious, and half teasing.
"Oh, I don't know," Loki said lightly. "Murder and mayhem sounds fun."
Sherlock felt his face flush in pleasure. "You're going to have to up your game. Jim blew up entire buildings for me."
Loki's face clouded over. "Ah yes. Jim. The ultimate organiser. I would admire his efficiency, if his ideals didn't directly clash with my own."
Sherlock smirked. "Well, rest assured that he is dead. His organising cannot meddle with your chaos any longer."
Loki surveyed him for a moment. "Who is John?"
Sherlock's discomfort must have shown on his face, because suddenly Loki was peering into his downturned eyes, a worried expression worn on such delicate features.
"Sherlock? What pains you? What is wrong?"
"Do not attempt to lie."
Sherlock simply stared at Loki for a while, just gouging every nuance of his husband's subtle movements. He could always tell when Loki was genuinely afraid- his eyes widened, and his lips quivered, and he had such an earnest expression. Sherlock's heart thumped. "Come on, let's go."
Loki grasped his hands, and before Sherlock could even utter a suggestion of Loki taking a London cab for the first time, they had materialised into Mycroft's front living room.
"I will never get used to that," Sherlock muttered.
"Why are you mourning?" Loki asked him, still on the matter of Sherlock's sadness.
Sherlock sighed. "I'm going to miss my friend John, whilst I am away."
"Your friend?" Loki asked, confused.
"I thought you were keeping tabs on me?" Sherlock asked irritably. Why did nobody believe him when he said he had a friend?
"I check up on you every year. Last time I checked, you didn't have a friend," Loki explained with a shrug.
He glanced around Mycroft's living room, before clicking his fingers, and all Mycroft's little knickknacks, his furniture, his rug, everthing, flew up into the air, and then reassembled themselves in the room.
"That is going to piss Mycroft off no end," Sherlock said, startled by the sudden change. He caught Loki's mischievous but utterly innocent gaze, and then together they both started laughing heartily.
"Until next time, Sherlock Holmes," Loki muttered with a small smile, taking Sherlock's hand once again. "I will try to come more often."
Sherlock nodded. "I miss you."
Loki pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's palm, and then, as Sherlock blinked, he vanished.
Sherlock sat heavily down on Mycroft's sofa (which had originally been facing the window, but was now on the opposite end of the room), and ran his hands through his hair.
"What a mess," he sighed to himself.
Loki's appearance had come at just the right time. He had known from the very beginning about Jim's plans to completely ruin him, and Mycroft had gotten word to Asgard, somehow.Sherlock had had one very tense phone call from his husband after years of separation, where they sorted out a plan. Loki's words had been, "You can always trust me to be there."
And he had.
"What in god's name has that bastard done to my living room?"
Sherlock grinned up at his brother who had just entered the room, and a silky chuckle came from the empty seat beside him.