Hearth

A/N: This is an AU guys. Serious AU. Might also contain general butchery of some myths, but I'll need to bend some to make this fic work. You'll find out soon enough. Carry on reading!

Prologue

Snow had fallen in the mortal world. She leaned against the trunk of the tree, watching the snow flakes blanket the earth. Looking up towards the heavens, she sighed. It was rather cold, but she'd rather be here than on Olympus, tending to a hearth that was dying fast. Not for the first time, she wished her family would stop fighting. It weakened her to see the hearth cold and forgotten.

At least here, during what the mortals called Christmas, the hearths of the family were warm, filled with love and affection. Mortals had stopped praying to them long ago, but that didn't mean she couldn't sustain herself. Any prayer blessing the home, the love of family, the hearth fed her, and kept her strong.

"Aren't you cold up there?" A voice said from somewhere below. She startled and looked down, her gaze falling on a small, thin, curly haired youngling with eyes that seemed to glow. She was entranced by their unusual hue. The boy didn't take nicely to being ignored. "I asked you a question, girl. Aren't you cold wearing that flimsy dress?"

"No child," she answered, still reeling from shock. He shouldn't be able to see her. Not many mortals were pure enough. "I am not cold."

"Who are you calling child?!" The boy shouted indignantly. "I'm older than you." She bit the inside of her cheek. She had forgotten the form she had taken, that of a mortal girl barely at the cusp of womanhood.

"What are you doing up there?" he asked again, and she could see from her vantage point that his eyes were burning with curiosity. Maybe if she ignored him, he would go away.

"Hey!" he shouted after a while, "I asked a question!" She merely looked straight ahead, already berating herself for speaking to him.

"What's your name?" She ignored him, but she could still clearly see those eyes in her mind.

"Well, you are in my orchard. I reserve the right to know your name."She glanced down at him. One look told her he wouldn't leave. He had an aura around him that clearly told her that he wouldn't leave until he had solved her mystery. Interesting…for a mortal.

She dropped down in front of him gracefully, her bare feet touching the snow covered ground. He barely blinked, which surprised her once more. "You might be a gypsy," the boy muttered to himself more than her. "They are camping in the field nearby." Almost as an after thought, he added, "Do you want to come in? I expect you wouldn't mind warming up?"

She couldn't help it. She laughed, "Are you normally of the habit of inviting strangers into your house?"

He shrugged, as if he hadn't really thought about it. Mortals and gods alike had this instinct of always realizing that she would cause no harm. She exuded peace and friendliness. He stretched put his hand. "Sherlock Holmes. And since you don't have any name, or you won't tell me, can I name you?"

She giggled childishly. She hadn't felt this much mirth since the time Poseidon had dropped a number of sea creatures on Athena's head in a fit of childish pique. She nodded, still smiling. The boy took her hand without preamble. "Come inside, "he said, dragging her along. "I'll think better at home, and I'll get you a coat. You are making me feel ill."

She stood in front of the fireplace, her white Grecian knee length dress now wrapped up in furs. She smiled as the boy came back with a glass of milk, a look of intense concentration upon his face. "Drink it." He stated, and gave her a small smile as she sipped it dutifully.

His house was cold, she realized. There was no one home, except the servants. "Where is your family, Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes were downcast. It was amazing how one sentence could remove the sparkle from his eyes. "Mother and father are on holiday on the Alps. My brother didn't bother coming back home from school."

Anger bubbled inside her. "And they left you?"

"Mycroft is the only one who can control me," Sherlock mumbled, sitting on the rug and picking at it. "And he was too busy at school; so Mother said I'd be better of here." He paused and then added indignantly, "I don't like skiing."

She sank down on the floor and sat next to the child. She tentatively reached out and brushed her hand against his, "Are you lonely, Sherlock?"

"No," Sherlock snapped.

She leaned over and whispered conspiratorially into his ear. "I'm lonely too."

His sea-green eyes met her chocolate brown ones. "Will you stay with me?" His hands grabbed hers and she could see the depth of his abandonment had affected him.

She shook her head, feeling regret sweep into her. Funny. She hadn't felt anything other than contentment for…eons. Sherlock visibly deflates. "But I'll visit," she says quickly. "It might not be all the time, sometimes I might not see you for years. But-" She rests her hand over his beating heart, "Always know that I'll be here, Sherlock. And I will come."

"I won't be lonely anymore?" he says so innocently that she is tempted, so tempted to leave Olympus up to those pompous, power hungry Gods. Leave and stay here. With this lonely boy with jewels for eyes, and so pure that he can see deities. Watch him grow up and maybe she could change herself-

She hears a distant rumble of thunder echo in her ears. She jolts back from him and it's time to leave. "No you won't," She says defiantly. Let Zeus think what he may. "I'll always be there in your heart. " She pauses and remembers the small memory spans of these mortals. "You will, won't you?"

"I won't ever forget," Sherlock says reverently. She puts down the awe in his voice to her natural aura. "I'll never forget…Molly."

She throws her head back and laughed. "Molly?"

He stands up to tower over her. "Yes. I like the name. My great-grandmother was called Molly."

She stands up as well, matching his height now, and reaches for his hand once more. "Okay. I'm your…Molly."

He leans over suddenly and kisses her, full on the mouth. She jerks back, eyes wide in shock.

"Father does that to mother when she looks at him like that." Sherlock says sheepishly. "Is it bad?"

Is it bad? He has no idea what he has done, this little youngling.

"No…it's fine," She says, a niggle of amusement in the back of her mind that her first kiss was with a mortal- a ten year old mortal at that. "I have to go."

She makes to shrug off the furs Sherlock had given her when he protests. "Mother won't mind," he explains. "Keep them. You won't be cold."

"Okay Sherlock." She smiles at him, feeling younger and freer than she has in eons. This mortal would be something else entirely, if he is already capable of affecting a deity like that. He steps out up to the threshold with her and keeps on looking at her until the snow blocks her from view.

He keeps on rolling her name, the name he had given her, on his tongue over and over again, feeling pleasant warmth fill him up better than hot chocolate. "Molly…Molly…My Molly."

Once more up a tree, the Goddess Hestia leans back against the bark and smiles.

A/N: Here it is! Guys, I really hope you like it, and really, all your warm encouragement on Tumblr gave me the courage to post it. Thousands of love, hugs and general fangirly ness to A Pirate By Any Other Name, who is a wonderful beta and honestly deserves someone a lot less whiny than me.

Review please? Because I'm needy and I survive on your comments.

Love,

Adi x