Title: The Cure
Author: AvengerWarlockDetective
Fandoms: Avengers, Sherlock (BBC)
Pairings: Anything canon to the MCU or Sherlock – Tony Stark/Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Thor/Jane Foster, John Watson/Mary Watson etc.
Genre: Mostly Adventure, but maybe there will be a bit of Crime (this is Sherlock), Fantasy or SciFi (this is the Avengers), mild Romance, and possibly some Humour and Angst if I actually manage to be good at either. This is just a big mix of genres, deal with it.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Marvel, the Avengers or Sherlock – if I did it would be incredibly awesome and I would probably be the happiest person on the planet, but unfortunately I don't. Strangely, this is FanFiction, so if I actually owned them, I don't think I would count as a fan, and I certainly wouldn't be writing FanFiction about my own characters. Because that would just be weird.
Author's Note: Hey guys (if I actually get any readers … oh well)! Sorry for the long introduction here – it definitely won't be like this every chapter, just occasionally an Author's Note. I just wanted to have all my pairings included because I know some people don't like to read fanfics with particular relationships. This is set immediately after Age of Ultron (and Series 3 of Sherlock, but presumably most people have seen that), so it WILL contain spoilers! This is my first fanfic so constructive criticism is welcome! I have no idea how often I will update this, maybe once a week? Anyway, most chapters will be between 1000 and 2000 words, but that's just for now and they will probably vary. Enjoy!
AvengerWarlockDetective xx
Chapter 1
"John, there's no such thing as 'magic', and you're not going to convince me otherwise!" Sherlock Holmes folded his arms and glared at the doctor accusingly, signalling the end of the conversation.
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring the glare. Sherlock Holmes, despite being a genius and probably the smartest man on the planet, could be ridiculously narrow minded sometimes. "Yes, as you've said about seven-million times already." He ignored Sherlock's muttered comment of 'Seventeen, actually', and continued. "But all the evidence leads to a dead end and surely magic is the only possible explanation?"
"Yes, yes, certainly," Sherlock grumbled sarcastically, spinning back around in his chair to shuffle through a stack of photographs on the table. "It's definitely the only possible explanation."
John growled in frustration. "Is this where you tell me how stupid I am again? If it's not magic, then what is it, Sherlock? What do you think?"
"Well, it's obvious," the sociopath said patronizingly, not looking up from his work. "This 'Loki Laufeyson' fellow is clearly intelligent – look at the focus of his eyes! The way he assesses the situation before taking action … he's very clever, if not a genius. So we know if he wanted to do something criminal, he'd be able to do it well. Which brings us onto our next point, his motives …" The consulting detective held up a photo of two men, the dark-haired Loki and a more muscular blonde one. "The blonde is Thor Odinson, part of a top-secret branch of the American government, the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."
"They need a new name," John commented. "And if it's top secret, how do you know about it?"
Sherlock ignored him. "If we assess the way Odinson acts around, talks to, and even looks at our criminal, it infers that they have known each other for a long time, if not their entire lives. So, this brings us to assume that they are brothers. However, we can tell that they are not genetically related by the fact that their physical features are so completely different that it's almost impossible they are siblings. We –"
"Why do you keep referring to yourself as 'us' or 'we'?" John asked, smirking.
Sherlock glared at him this time. "Shut up, John! As I was saying, we can assume that Laufeyson is adopted …"
John absent-mindedly fiddled with a piece of paper that had been left on the coffee table, folding it into various different origami shapes, and his mind drifted. Instead of thinking about the international criminal, he began thinking, for some unknown reason, about Winnie the Pooh. Even when he started humming the theme tune under his breath (A donkey named Eeyore is his friend, and Kanga and little Roo. There's Rabbit, and Piglet, and there's Owl, but most of all Winnie the Pooh … Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh …), Sherlock didn't even notice his friend wasn't listening and continued to drone on about his deductions of Loki.
"So, John! I told you that was a much more plausible explanation!"
John blinked, looking up from his piece of paper. "Uh … sorry?"
Sherlock sighed. "Loki Laufeyson was the adopted brother of Thor Odinson. Thor was treated better than him by their father, probably given all of their father's inheritance, which activated psychopathic tendencies which Loki had been harbouring his entire life. Psychopaths often have a particular mind set, but it's often not visible until later in life. Loki, feeling isolated and unwanted, decided he would strike fear in the heart of the people of New York by pumping hallucinogenic drugs into the water system, meaning that people thought they saw aliens pouring out of a wormhole in the sky and superheroes flying around and a big green monster thing, when really it was just drug-induced images. Meanwhile, Loki set explosives off in various parts of New York, which is what caused all the damage. See? Makes much more sense than 'magic'."
John put his head in his hands. "No, Sherlock. No, it really doesn't. Nor does it make any more sense than all your other theories about it. Including the one about all of it being a messed up government conspiracy plot, and that one was weird." He reached for his mug of tea, and grimaced when it was cold. How long exactly had Sherlock been talking? "Anyway, why are you getting so hung up on this? It was three years ago, for god's sake. Can't you just accept what the press told everyone?"
"No, I can't!" Sherlock said violently. "It doesn't make sense!" And with that, he slammed the photographs down on the table and stormed out of the door.
"Uh, Sherlock?" John called. "Where are you going?"
"Out!" came the reply, before the front door slammed.
John sighed and flicked the TV on. There had been no point whatsoever in even coming to 221b this afternoon. He should have known that all Sherlock would want to talk about was the event in New York. The consulting detective had, surprisingly, only found out about it recently, as he was too busy solving the Moriarty case at the time. Since then, he had been brainstorming theories about it over and over again. It was, apparently, really bugging him.
John was snapped out of his musings as the headlines appeared on the TV.
"Breaking news: Yesterday afternoon, a terrifying and bizarre event happened in the region of Sokovia in Eastern Europe," the female newsreader said in a crisp monotone. "An entire city was elevated almost one-thousand feet from the ground by a form of immensely powerful, and, as of yet, unheard of electronic system, whilst the city's residents were attacked by flying robotic drones which could be a form of artificial intelligence."
The screen showed a shaky clip of a huge drop down to mountain scenery, as man-sized robots flew around them, shooting lasers at people. John stared. "What the hell?"
"Once again, the day was saved by the world-famous 'Avengers', who first made their appearance in New York three years ago, who go by the aliases, 'Hulk'; 'Black Widow'; 'Hawkeye'; 'Thor'; the ex-CEO of Stark Industries, Tony Stark, known as 'Iron Man; and the revered WWII super soldier, 'Captain America'." There was a shot of a young woman wielding red energy in her hands, her eyes glowing the same shade. "This mysterious woman has also been sighted, recently identified to be the orphaned Wanda Maximoff, twin sister of Pietro Maximoff, who died in the battle."
The clip cut off to switch back to the newsreader. "The Avengers saved more than five thousand people yesterday. However, there have been more than a thousand fatalities and almost two hundred deaths. For more updates on the crisis, tune in to BBC One News at 6 O'clock."
The news finished and an advertisement started. Numbly, John flicked the TV off and stood up. "Not magic, huh?" he mumbled to no one, as he left the apartment and descended the steps to the front door. There was no way that Sherlock could explain this now. That girl - Wanda Maximoff - was controlling weird red energy! How was that not magic?
He needed to find Sherlock.
