The afternoon is bright and sunny, and the tea is steaming merrily in the pot that has been set out by the *not* housekeeper Mrs. Hudson. The newspaper is crinkling slightly in the doctor's hands as he reads a rather interesting article that the genius detective read half a minute ago, and found very boring.
Speaking of the detective, he examines his watch, curious about whether it is broken. Silently he stands and goes into the kitchen, the time is the same. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his pants and saunters back into the living-room feeling befuddled.
"John," He says, tearing the good doctor from his read.
"Yes Holmes?" the sandy blond replies, not even bothering to lift his eyes from the newspaper.
"Does your watch say 9:45 a.m.?" he asks, pacing toward the window. John's eyebrows go up, this time he does look up at his friend, "Are you expecting someone?"
"Mm." is the dark-haired man's only reply. John looks down at his watch, "It says 9:46 a.m."
"That's because we've been talking for a whole minute. My watch says the same."
"Why? What's wrong? Who is it that you're expecting?"
"An old friend," Hums the detective.
As if on cue, there are sounds of footsteps on the stairs and the disgruntled voice of Mrs. Hudson saying; "How did you get in here? I didn't let you in. Sir? Sir!"
If John could have seen Sherlock's face, he would have seen a smirk twitch his lips. The door to their living-space opens and standing in the morning light is a dark haired man, dressed in a black button-down and black pants. His shoes are thick leather and shine brilliantly in the sun.
"You're late," says Sherlock.
"Am I?" replies the stranger.
"Indeed. Exactly twenty-minutes late, actually." The detective watches the people below on the street without interest, "I believe your time is off."
The stranger chuckles, "I'm afraid it is your watches which are off, Holmes." He turns his head to look at John and smiles, "You must be Doctor Watson," He holds out a slender hand, "Pleasure."
John eyes the cat-like stranger and shakes the hand, "I wish I could say the same, only I don't know who you are…"
The man grins, "I'm sure your friend will introduce me if he wishes."
The doctor's friend is actually examining his watch in irritation, the time reads: 9:31 a.m. He jerks his head up and stares hard at the newcomer. "I really hate your games," he says, his eye twitching.
"I know. Not many people enjoy them. But I do, and that's what counts to me." The stranger looks at the empty chair, "May I?" Sherlock nods and walks to the tea set.
"Sugar?" he asks.
"Come, come, Sherlock. You know how I like my tea." The green-eyed stranger smiles softly, sharing a secret that John knows nothing about. He suddenly feels very out of his depth, not unlike when he first met Sherlock. Only he feels that this man is far more dangerous than his friend.
"M-may I be introduced, then?" He looks at Sherlock. "Who is he?"
"Ah, of course, sorry John," Sherlock turns with the delicate teacups and places them on the table in front of John and their guest. "John, this is Loki. A friend from a long time ago," He smiles.
"H-hold on a minute… Loki? The Loki…? Loki, the uh god of mischief Loki?" John rapidly looking between Sherlock and Loki, "What in the world have you been up to?" He asks as he looks at Sherlock.
"You know I don't keep track of those things." The detective waves his hand, dismissing the comment.
"We do have a history, don't we?" Loki picks up the teacup. "I can still remember the day we met." He sips the tea and closes his eyes, letting it warm his insides. "Your housekeeper makes a splendid cup of tea."
"Oh, she's not our housekeeper," says John suddenly.
"No?" Loki's eyebrows rise, "Well she does do a pretty choir around here for *not* being your housekeeper."
Sherlock's lips twitch as he struggles to suppress a smile. It is good to have Loki back.
