To Protect And Serve
Chapter Summary: Sherlock is a very young godling who is coming into his power too early, John is eventually destined to be his true devout. But they meet before they were meant to. Sherlock claims John as his own anyway even though he really shouldn't. John, while trying to do the right thing, finds himself wrapped up in things far beyond his ken, and has no idea why this strange and curious boy seems intent on not being more than an arms length away from him ever again. He has no idea of anything that is happening, and especially not the damage it can do to a young god with no other followers, for them to claim you, and then for you to lose your faith.
Tags: GodverseAU, The Holmes's are deities, kidlock, eventual Johnlock, BAMF!John Watson, epic misunderstandings, Hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, eventual romance.
Warnings: Violence, long term illness, discussions of death and dying, eventual M/M relationships
Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock or any of it's characters or content. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money off of this fanwork.
A/N: I have another story in this universe as well, but it is in the Kingsman fandom. I will be posting it soon.
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Little Sherlock trailed along behind his parents. Mycroft, his perfectly obedient older brother followed behind him, making sure that he didn't wander off. He wouldn't have anyway, the most interesting thing about this place so far was the elements, and how they were arranged, and he was busy cataloguing them as they passed and he touched them: Carbon, Nitrogen, Hydrogen, Oxygen, Helium, Sodium, Potassium, Iron, Copper, Sulphur, Phosphate, Nitrate, Nickel, Calcium, Magnesium, Maganese, Silicon, Zinc, Ammonia, Aluminum, ... They were here on a vacation which basically meant sitting around doing absolutely nothing, on purpose, for ages and ages.
Some of Mummy's and most of Daddy's relatives were going to show up over the next few days for a family reunion, the first one in an age and a half apparently, and a chance for everyone to catch up with people they had lost touch with over the years and make new connections with people they had gotten along just fine without until now, and meet everyone's newest kids. But Sherlock absolutely hated the idea of socializing and playing nice with people he had barely, or never even met before just because they happened to have a few bloodlines in common, it was absolutely tedious. Sherlock truly thought he was going to die of boredom before all was said and done with. Perhaps he could figure out a way to make them cut the trip short, although in all honesty there was nothing much for him to do back home either, but he liked the idea of home much better than here. Even if it was pretty right now, all of the people and their boringness and stupidity would ruin it.
The view was nice enough, and they had a house right on the beach. He liked the sound of the ocean waves on the sand, it seemed to soothe his thoughts, the deep repetitive motion, never the exact same twice in a row, but constant enough to set him almost into a calm trance. He made his escape as soon as everyone was busy unpacking their things and made straight for the water, though he didn't go in, even he knew that would be a bad idea that would get him into a lot of trouble. But there were some interesting shells on the beach that he picked up and stuck in his pockets, he liked the feeling of the beach sand, and he could feel both Gaia and Poseidon, here where the earth met the sea and he said hello. He lay down next to a palm tree so he could play with the shells he had found, and listen to the soothing surf. He had a very in depth conversation with a small hermit crab about how wise he was to have made his home next to the sea so he could always listen to the waves, they were almost like music in a way, weren't they?
The sound and the warm afternoon and the peace of the island eventually worked their magic, and before long Sherlock was falling fast asleep in the shade of the palm tree. He felt warm, gentle arms pick him up and hold him close to a very familiar heartbeat that was as steady as the earth, and felt a kiss on his forehead, and smelled the soft floral and ivy scent that he knew so very well and unconsciously drew closer to right before he fell completely unconscious, being rocked in time with the waves.
Mycroft of course went after his wayward little brother very shortly after he left, before their parents even noticed he was missing. They would rightly assume he was with Mycroft, whom they had asked to keep an eye on Sherlock, since Mycroft seemed to always be able to find his hiding spots, and follow his little brother's rapid fire train of thought best. Sherlock was obviously wanting to be alone for a bit, the journey had made him tired, bored, cranky, and restless, and he'd probably been holding onto his venomous tongue by an exceptionally thin thread. In fact he was surprised there hadn't been an outburst already. There was very little physical danger to be found where they were, but Sherlock always seemed to have a knack of getting into everything he wasn't supposed to, just because they were the more interesting places to go, and getting himself into trouble because they were the most intriguing things he could find to do.
Their parents found it very distressing that Sherlock was so adventurous, but he would keep an eye out to make sure Sherlock stayed out of danger, though he would stay at enough of a distance to let his brother think he had gotten away with slipping out from under their noses unnoticed. The last thing he wanted was for Sherlock to get in one of his Black Moods while they were on holiday. The boy was extremely clever and fiercely independent, it was sure to cause their parents an endless amount of grief over the fact, their Mother being all about peace and unity in the home and their father about strong family ties, neither of which would interest Sherlock, now or ever. The boy courted adventure and trouble the way some courted their sweethearts. It was a blessing of sorts that Mycroft could play to both sides, well any side he wanted to really. His talent was in seeing those ties that motivated and drove people, strengths and weaknesses, and then using them however he wished. He was already studying politics, a fact which made one of his uncles extremely happy.
It didn't take too long to spot Sherlock a ways off under a tree, talking to something in the sand. He didn't approach, the boy was obviously just fine. He watched him from a distance, and when it looked like he was falling asleep, he drew close. But another came from behind the tree and approached his little brother and it took Mycroft off guard. His immediate protest stopped as he recognized the person bending over his baby brother and picking him up to cradle gently in her arms, placing a kiss to his forehead. Mycroft needn't have worried, there was no safer place in all the world then where Sherlock was right now.
" Bisnonna ." He murmured respectfully and bowed slightly to her. She smiled at him in acknowledgment and then sat with her back against the tree with Sherlock in her lap, rocking him gently to the sound of the waves, humming a lullaby that she had sung to her own children when they had been babes themselves. She was Sherlock's favorite relative, the only one he really seemed to trust. His only explanation for how much he adored the woman was "Because she's Real." No one else got it, but she apparently did, and Mycroft had a sad suspicion that he knew too, even though he hadn't said.
Several expected Sherlock to become a scholar with his quick wit and all seeing eyes, or were pressing for something with the arts, since his skill with the violin was becoming something of a source of personal pride in their family, almost all of them wanted a return of the Classical Age, before things like Rock 'n Roll, and other 'terrible forms of discordant noise' had seemed to take over the world. So every time the immediate family got together, Sherlock with his Violin were trotted out and all of their other musically inclined relations would play for the family. It was the only thing Sherlock didn't mind doing in respect to his relations. And the music they made spoke to the Soul. But Sherlock had told him he didn't like music to create something beautiful, he liked it 'Because it couldn't lie' and 'It speaks true even without words'. He also liked that it could easily be translated into mathematics. Hardly comforting notions from someone of Sherlock's young years.
Everyone said Sherlock was too young yet to truly know his Talent, or his Path, these weren't the Old Days after all where belief was strong, and you were born knowing your Purpose, so they tended to manifest much later, since you had to work for recognition these days. But Sherlock was nothing if not a prodigy, and Mycroft, able to see these kinds of patterns, knew it would most likely take the form of an Absolute, a minor one if he was lucky, but most likely a Science of some kind, perhaps Chemistry, or Physics. Either of which would grant him several followers, but also had the potential to turn his baby brother very hard and cold, or worse, tear him into madness, half of himself extremely strong, and the other half eternally vulnerable, since these days the Sciences seemed to go against their natures to a degree, because some silly humans had decided Science and Religion had to be mutually exclusive to each other, and therefore there could be no 'Gods' in Science. And since they themselves were nothing if not for human belief, it had become a rather weak truth, but a Truth nonetheless. It's true these were not the Old Days, but part of Mycroft wished they were, if only for Sherlock's sake and nothing else.
He returned to the house, his parents went wide eyed upon seeing him without a tag along.
"Where's your brother?!" his parents asked in unison. Mycroft fought not to roll his eyes, as if he'd allow something to harm Sherlock, or intentionally leave him somewhere unattended.
"In the copse of palms with Bisnonna , he's sleeping. She seemed unwilling to let him go, but was in a fair spirit and I decided not to press the matter."
His Mummy sighed and nodded, looking out towards the trees. Bisnonna had her moods too, but no one could dispute the fact that she would never let harm come to Sherlock. Mycroft unpacked his possessions into the room he would be sharing with Sherlock, and did the same for his brother's things, who wouldn't bother otherwise no matter how long they were there. He placed the Violin case on the dresser where Sherlock was sure to see it easily, then set about finding the book he had been reading, and taking it and his afternoon snack out onto the patio to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine while he read.
It was two days later and relations were still pouring in for the celebration starting that night. Flights were coming in every few hours, and a ship from the mainland was coming twice daily with more people. They were almost fully taking over two of the island's largest hotels, which happened to be right next door to each other, and though the staff at the resorts had ample warning about how many guests to expect (up to 6,000), even going so far as to hire additional people to make sure they could handle the influx, they were also unaccustomed to having so many of their patrons be extremely high maintenance all at one time. The larger of the two probably had it worse, it was where all of the special dietary requirement ones were going because it had convention and conference spaces which were being taken over for the reunion itself, and had the added benefit of also being connected to a huge industrial sized kitchen that was now taken over, stocked, and staffed by their guests own personnel and chefs, temporarily converting a large ballroom into a 24 hour buffet where you could literally have just about anything your discerning palette desired.
Though this reunion had been in the planning stages for 3 years, and the hotel had been given a year and a half notice of what to expect (for the most part), one could only imagine the reaction they had a week ago to the delivery of an entire cargo ship's worth of cattle, sheep, deer, pigs, chickens, geese, turkeys, pheasants, guinea hens, rabbits, peacocks, and even some crates filled with snakes and doves, all still alive and waiting for when the kitchen was ready for them. A ten acre plot in the rear had been set up just to house and care for them until that time. Twenty-five huge air conditioned shipping containers held a shipload's worth of fruits, vegetables, grains, cheeses, eggs, seafood, herbs, spices, and specialty foodstuffs that had arrived the day before. Another ship had arrived absolutely stuffed to the keels with beverages, mostly huge wooden barrels of beer, wine, and other alcohols, though there were two confirmed shipping containers full of sodas and juices too.
The Holmes family's decision to use one of the beach houses was turning into quite the wise decision, where the staff remained pleasant and unstressed for the most part, being as they only had twenty houses, all filled, but with people who were not nearly as picky or filled with self importance as some of the others.
Little did anyone realize just how much trouble was headed their way.