I

"Mrs. Hudson wants to know when- Sherlock?"

The black haired man looked up from the small black object he was holding and wrapped his hand possessively around it. "Hm?"

"Do you even know what I´m talking about?!" John demanded.

"Of course!" A pause. "No, I have no idea."

"What´s that, anyway?" the shorter man asked, reaching towards Sherlock's closed fist.

"Nothing," he answered and drew his hand away from John´s reach. John frowned. Sherlock never hid evidence from cases from him. And that´s the only thing it could be. Sherlock didn't keep any sort of sentimental possessions.

"Sherlock," the blonde demanded slowly, but the other did not budge. "Come on!"

The detective rolled his eyes and slammed the mysterious object into John´s hand before huffing away. An eye patch. "What case is it from?" he asked.

"Why would you assume it is from a case?" Sherlock replied dryly. "I was holding it in my hand, just gazing at it, not letting my only friend come close to it. It obviously represents memories I want to forget. If it was from a case, I would be in the kitchen or at Bart´s analysing it. It clearly has some sentimental value to me."

"I thought you didn't have, you know," John hesitated, "feelings. Or that you keep them locked up deep inside your stone heart."

The side of Sherlock´s mouth quirked into a small smile. "I have feelings for only two things in life, John." The doctor did not know any of them.

"So... it´s from the time you wanted to be a pirate?"

Sherlock's face hardened. "I am going to murder Mycroft." John simply smiled.

The blonde waited for ten full minutes before asking, "You are not going to give me any more details, are you?"

He already knew the answer so he stood up and walked to the kitchen to brew himself some tea before his friend had a chance to answer.

The two men were walking away from a crime scene, Sherlock´s coat wrapped tightly around his thin frame. When they were out of Lestrade's view, they burst into mad fits of laughter. "Sh-Sherlock! It´s not decent!" John complained as he fought for breath, but he didn't mean it.

"But Anderson's face! He made a complete fool of himself, John!"

John giggled as he remembered. After Sherlock had worked his deducing magic, Anderson had tried to argue, saying it made no sense, only to be corrected by the suspect herself. His ugly pale face had blushed deep scarlet. "Oh, shut up. You are only happy because you were able to show off. Again!" John laughed.

Sherlock suddenly stopped laughing and his eyes widened. His hand flew to the pocket of his coat as if he expected to find a weapon, but as far as John knew, he only kept his pocket magnifying glass there. The soldier followed his gaze. The tall man was looking at a frail old lady crossing the street. For John, she was no danger, but he still tried to look at her through Sherlock´s analytic eyes, with no result.

"Um, d´you reckon she´s going to beat us to death with baked goods?" he asked his friend.

The black-haired man looked at him with a How-can´t-you-see-it? Look, but then he apparently remembered something. "No, John. Where did you get that idea?" he said and walked away, leaving a confused John behind.

"You are hiding something from me."

"No, I´m not," Sherlock answered. "And we are out of eggs."

"What does that have to with anything? And I bought eggs yesterday!"

"Tried to extract enough DNA to clone a chick. Failed," he explained mechanically.

John frowned and rolled his eyes. "Anyway, back to you hiding things from me.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Sherlock asked.

"Because you are. The eye patch, the old lady you were scared of..."

"That you, John, were scared of an elder woman does not mean that I was scared of her."

"Sheer-lock, of course you are! You know you can tell me anything!" John pouted.

"Not the things that put you in danger, John." Sherlock´s tone was serious.

"You microwave eyeballs, make me go on a demon hound chase, I had to wear a bomb vest just because you know me, but you don´t like to put me in danger? Really?"

"This would be more dangerous than anything you´ve seen, more dangerous than Moriarty. Well, maybe not the hound, if it had been real."

John frowned. "That sounds almost impossible... but I´m only asking for an explanation! How can a few words hurt?" he wondered.

"You have no idea."

"How?! How could it hurt?! Tell me!"

"Imagine that I told you that... I don't know, some English birds have a spot in their feet. Before I told you, you would only see the bird but ignore the feet, but after I told you,you would try to look at the feet," Sherlock explained. "Understand?"

"No," John answered. "Tell me."

Sherlock rubbed his eyes. If he told him, John would see everything he saw. The only difference would be that Sherlock had grown up seeing it. John would be shocked. Sherlock looked around, looking for something he could use as an example. He eyed a glass of water, its water creating a rainbow. He dug into his pocket and found a cold metal circle. Good, he had cash. It could come after the sword.

"So, John, what do you know about the Greek gods?"

"Erm, some myths. Zeus is King, Hera is his Queen. Not much."

"Nemesis?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"Like... an enemy? What do you mean? Where is this going?"

Sherlock huffed and, wrapping his gown around him, flipped over, his face facing the back of the couch. "Useless," he said.

John was used to Sherlock´s random fits. He poked the detective´s slim hips. "Oh, come on! I´m sorry for... whatever I did."

Sherlock continued talking without turning around. "Greek gods. What would you do if I told you they were real?"

"Laugh," the army doctor answered, "and then freak out because you never joke."

"You are sitting down. Good. That minimizes the chances of you hitting your head when you "freak out"."

"Oh-kay."

"They are real," Sherlock stated, and then stood up suddenly. "Tea?" he asked, considering the conversation done.

"Whoa, whoa, what?! That´s it?! "They are real"?!" John practically screamed.

"Yes. That´s it."

"And what does that have to do with you?" he asked. "If they are real."

"Oh, right. Me," Sherlock chuckled and John rolled his eyes. "Do demigods figure in your minimal knowledge of Greek mythology, John?"

"A son of a god and a mortal, yes," the blonde replied. After a pause, realization dawned on his face. "Oh, no. You have got to be kidding me! You? But... wha- I- you- prove it!" he demanded finally.

"I knew you would say that." Sherlock took out his magnifying glass and spun it thrice in his hand. For the detective, he was now looking at a bronze sword as long as his arm with a black handle studded with grey crystals. For the doctor, it was still a pocket magnifying glass.

"And?" the shorter man asked unimpressed.

"Oh, for the love of the gods! John! Think of what I just told you! Focus and look beyond your tiny mortal mind!"

"Gee, thanks." John stared at his friend´s hand. After a few seconds, his jaw dropped.

"Finally!" Sherlock grumbled. He pointed at John with his sword. "Now you believe me? Good. I´m going out, I feel like stabbing a Greek monster." And he was gone before John could tell him to put some decent clothes on.