One
In the land of fandom, where shipping is favourable and moderators guard against the midnight trolls, the Millennial women and men gather around the internet and they read a tale. They read of Jolnir, King of Gifts, and how he rides a sleigh pulled by reindeer and delivers presents to all the children of the Nine Realms. And they read of his daughter, Sigyn, and of how she travelled to Asgard in order to marry Loki, Prince of the Aesir, and brought him home to Alfheim to live in their castle there. And now in this season of bright flashing lights and fake Christmas trees they read of how Loki delivered a present to Sherlock Holmes, who would one day become the world's only Consulting Detective, but who at the time was only four years old...
As young as he was, Sherlock Holmes was already sceptical about the existence of Father Christmas. It just wasn't possible, was it, to be able to deliver all those toys in just one night? And yet he believed just enough not to call out when the slim, dark haired man suddenly appeared in his room with a bulging sack slung across his back.
He watched with interest as the man placed a brightly wrapped present at the foot of his bed and placed something smaller inside the stripy sock hanging off the bed post.
Sherlock was burning with curiosity. The man was definitely not Father Christmas. Or at least he didn't match any of the pictures Sherlock had ever seen, or any of the depictions in the endless number of Christmas films his parents made him watch. This man was far too thin and tall, with sharp features and long, dark hair slicked back to be Jolly St Nick. But, if he wasn't Father Christmas then why was he doing the job of Father Christmas?
"You don't need to pretend to be asleep, child. I'm not going to hurt you. I only came to deliver your present." The man spoke in a soft, clipped tone, but his words only served to spook the boy.
Sherlock yanked his duvet tightly over his head, heart pounding.
"Very well. I'm going. Merry Christmas."
Something about the weariness in his voice convinced Sherlock that he was not frightening as he looked. Sherlock flicked his duvet back, and crawled to the end of his bed. The man watched him with a slightly bemused look.
"You're not Father Christmas," said Sherlock.
"No. Who do you think I am?"
Sherlock thought for a moment. He looked at the man's sharp dark hair, pale skin, and the uncomfortable looking black and green outfit he wore; then he made a deduction. "King of the goblins."
"King of the - I look nothing like Dave!"
Sherlock shuffled aside as the man plonked himself down heavily on the bed, looking around the room disdainfully as he did so.
"I'm Loki,"the man said eventually.
"The Trickster," Sherlock added. "I've read about you in the book. You were naughty."
"I'm always naughty. It's part of my charm."
"I'm Sherlock Holmes."
"I know. The boy who wants a dog, more friends, and a real working pirate canon for Christmas. Just so you don't get your hopes up, you haven't got any of those things." Loki lent back to look at Sherlock more carefully. "You're not screaming the house down. Why not? You've just woken to find a stranger in your room, you should be terrified."
Sherlock shrugged. "You're too noisy to be a burglar. Or a kidnapper. And you're wearing a Christmas Wreath around your neck. And you have a sack of toys -"
"Shhh!" Loki hushed, pressing a finger to Sherlock's mouth. "You're speaking too loudly. I don't want you to wake Mycroft! I spoke to him last year and really don't want to repeat the experience. The thing is I'm not supposed to be seen. And you shouldn't be talking to me at all! Did no one teach you about Stranger Danger?"
"You started the conversation," said Sherlock, playing with his toes. "Do you work for Father Christmas?"
Loki looked appalled.
"No! I help Father Christmas. I work alongside Father Christmas. He is not my employer. No, he's my father-in-law. We've fallen a little bit behind this year, so I'm here I am, delivering presents. That okay with you?"
"No."
"Well, tough. I don't like it much either." Loki ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it up. "I've been doing this for three weeks straight now and I'm only half done. Well, three weeks for me, but for you mortals it's only one night. You've no idea how hard I've been working and all I get is comments like: Achtung! Es ist der Krampus! I'm doing my best, but clearly that's not good enough."
He completely failed to conceal his surprise when Sherlock fell against him, wrapping his thin arms as far as they would go around him.
"You are good enough! You care enough to do your best," Sherlock said, full of the all the optimism and compassion typical of a four year old, but with the wisdom to express it in a way that showed him to possess a maturity and intelligence beyond his years.
For a moment Loki was too frozen in shock to do anything other than sit still. Then he wordlessly pried Sherlock's arms away and reached inside his coat pocket for something. "Have a chocolate."
"I'm not supposed to eat after bed time. Especially chocolate."
"Child, it's Christmas. From Christmas Eve till Boxing Day you're supposed to feast on chocolate to the point of throwing up over the turkey. If you don't then you're not celebrating it properly."
Sherlock un-twisted the brightly coloured wrapper and placed the chocolate inside his mouth. It was good.
"I suppose I should ask if you've been a good boy this year, not that it makes any difference."
"Yes," Sherlock said, immediately. He knew what was expected of him.
"Really? That's no fun. Sounds dull."
"Eurus has been naughty."
Loki's face softened slightly. "I know all about Eurus. I'm going to deliver her present next. Really hope she doesn't wake up."
"But she's been naughty."
"So? Like I said, it doesn't really matter how you have behaved, we still give presents to every child without exception." He lent forward to rest his chin on his fist and blew out his cheeks. Then he looked about the room warily as though making sure no one else was about.
"Tell you what, Sherlock, I'm not supposed to give extra gifts, but for you I will make an exception if – and only if – you agree to owe me a favour."
"What favour?"
"I don't know yet. But, when I need you I will come for you."
"Will it be dangerous?"
"Never waste time being afraid of danger, Sherlock. It's around us all the time, like dust in the air. So, do we have a deal?"
Sherlock frowned. "It's not a gift if I owe you something. It's an exchange."
"If you like," Loki said, with a smile. "And if you chose to owe me a favour I will give you this."
He shook out his hands and in them appeared the most amazing looking coat Sherlock had ever seen. Dark, woollen, with a large collar, and a red button hole for tiny splash of colour. Sherlock straight away knew that it was his coat. He had always envisioned his adult self in traditional and stereotypical pirate garb, but this was a different kind of pirate coat – modern and sharp and smelling of adventure.
He reached out to touch the sleeve; there was magic in the very seams, he could feel it.
"Deal," he breathed.
"You'll have to wait until you've grown," Loki told him. "But, it's a very good coat. It will protect you from the sharks."
He laid it across his lap and folded it over and over again until it was no bigger than Sherlock's sock and then he threw it carelessly into the toy chest.
"Time to for you to go to sleep," he announced.
"No." Sherlock folded his arms across his chest, far too excited to want to sleep.
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Oh, well, perhaps you also don't want your present after all."
"I do!"
"Then you know what you have to do."
Looking his most petulant Sherlock lay down, but with his arms still tightly folded.
Loki smirked as he tucked the duvet around him. Sherlock was about to ask him a question when Loki tapped him on the forehead. He was out like a light.
For a year Sherlock waited up every night (apart from Christmas Eve when he inexplicably fell asleep early and stayed asleep) for Loki to return. He told Victor all about him, draw pictures and wrote stories about the adventures they should have been having, but the Trickster never came back to claim the favour that was owed to him. After that he soon faded from Sherlock's memory along with so many other things.
At least not until 24 years later...
AN: Thanks for reading.
I'm worried that some people may be confused about the premise of this fic, so here's a little background:
Jolnir is a Marvel character who appears in an Avengers animated film called Frost Fight. He is Father Christmas, but instead of only giving presents to humans, he gives presents to every child in the Nine Realms, using his unique Space-Time magic to travel from realm to realm quickly. According to Jolnir's page on Marvel Wiki he is half Frost Giant and half Ice Elf.
In Frost Fight Loki tries to steal his powers, but of course is stopped by the Avengers. I haven't seen it but I really want to.
In this fic and in the crossover fic I started, Loki is married to Sigyn, who is Jolnir's daughter. She is being trained to take over from Jolnir when he retires. They make friends with Sherlock and Molly, and have lots of adventures and fun together.
Thanks again...Any thoughts on a title?
