Loki is Johnlocked

by MethuselahPixie

John and Sherlock adopted a child to make their partnership - marriage, whatever they call it - founded. That was nine years ago. A baby found cast away in the cold, like so many others. What makes this boy so special? And why is Loki back on earth?

1. Like Father like Son

The wind whipped outside. The windows rattled, the curtains shivered. In the thick of the warm room cracks of cold crawled on their bellies from beneath the doors and floorboards. Their ominous creak approached a figure. Whirling, the small figure's dark hair flew. He grabbed his book from a sliver of moonlight and slid behind a table, pulling a blanket over his head. In his chest, his heart pounded, his breath pushing dust balls along the hardwood. Silent praying could not save him, though, and his dread mounted as a warm, deep voice wafted through the room from directly above him.

"Hamish," it said gently, removing the blanket from the figure's face. Crystal blue eyes met one another. "It's far too late to be reading." Sherlock reached out and gathered the boy in his slender arms, reaching next for the book he had been reading. His dark robe pulled back and the pale arm came forth to gather the fragile pages delicately.

The nine year old squirmed, pouting in his arms, but settled against his shoulder upon realizing the futility of his struggle. "Father, I was just going to finish a chapter," he whined grudgingly. He was pale as the moon, and thin for his age, but his blue eyes were bright and so full of life.

Sherlock tut-tutted at the small boy, his calculating look sweeping the book, and then the child. "At this hour? Morning light is much more attractive for reading." With long, sweeping strides, barefoot, Sherlock returned the child to his room and set him among all his disheveled covers. "And if you don't make your bed in the morning, I'm sure daddy will be very angry."

Hamish scoffed. "You, you mean? I haven't seen John in ages." Sherlock marked Hamish's page and set the book aside. A darkness hung on his shoulders.

"Daddy won't be gone long." He turned, nimble fingers fixing the blankets around the boy, a firm look on his face. "If you get up once more, Hamish, I will not hesitate to tie you to your bedposts. Now goodnight." Hamish looked away, crossing his arms, but Sherlock took the boy's head in his hands and kissed the soft black hair. "My boy. Please sleep well."
With that he was gone, a shadow in the night, and Hamish took his book and tucked it in beside him, turning over to stare out the window. He was coming. He could feel it.