A/N: Make sure to read and review PLEASE! I can't figure out if I still want this to be a thing.
Loki had finally succeeded! He had the throne, Thor had come to the realization the he was an idiot and every one was none the wiser. He'd reveled in his victory for some time now but he hadn't expected the huge chunks of free time that were suddenly awarded to him. Really, being a king in a peaceful universe was quite boring.
So he had taken up a new hobby, popping in on earth just to stir up a little bit of trouble, nothing too serious: an earthquake, maybe a car crash here or there, he enjoyed following the police sometimes just to see what they were up to. This is how he came in contact with Sherlock Holms, pseudo-celebrity detective, who piqued his interest from the very beginning: when the Detective Inspector had mentioned his name and the entire force had stiffened.
He gathered that the man, Sherlock Holmes, was not well liked and his suspicions were confirmed when he heard several of the officers refer to him as 'the freak' and display some very hostile body language when they spoke about him. If Loki did the whole 'relating to another person' thing, which he did NOT, this man would have been it. Loki was anxious to see him and was not disappointed as Sherlock swept into the room drawing all attention to him with his billowing Belstaff and sharp, sea glass eyes.
Loki thrilled as the man's thoughts whirred through the room demanding his concentration as the synapses fired and crackled so quickly Loki almost saw stars. Sherlock examined the scene and began to explain, at that point Loki had been hooked, there was no denying it. Someone who finally had the brains to match him, who could follow his thoughts, maybe even out do the great God of Mischief himself!
"Oh what fun we'll have, you and I." Loki whispered into Sherlock's unhearing ear. "The chaos we could inspire, the devastation and destruction we would rain down on this world. I will have you dear Sherlock." He allowed the last word to be barely audible, a faint brush against the inner ear but Sherlock heard. By then Loki had gone however his plan had just begun.
From that day onward Loki had allowed Sherlock to spot him in crowds every so often, passing him on the street, in a café window. He would whisper sweet nothings that Sherlock couldn't hear and he would often spend quite some time just observing Sherlock in 221B as he went about his experiments and bouts of crippling boredom.
Sherlock had become increasingly paranoid. Something was going on but he could not figure out what. He could tell he was being watched but by whom, he could not say. He had torn 221B apart looking for any sort of audio visual equipment, cameras, motion trackers but his search proved fruitless. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary so why did the hair on the back of his neck prickle when he sat down to think or lay in his bed?
John said that he needed to sleep more and that staying awake puzzling about it would only make the sensations more prominent. Then muttered something about it just being Sherlock's big head convincing him that there had to be someone watching him all the time because he was in constant need of an audience now that John had moved out.
That would have been the end of it if it weren't for the sightings. Sherlock was certain that he had seen the same person several times in the past few weeks but, very oddly indeed, could not remember what they had looked like. This, above all, had vexed Sherlock the most. He could remember everything except for this person that seemed to melt into thin air the moment Sherlock turned around to get a second look.
Sherlock had had enough! Whoever it was watching him he would find out and he would strangle them with his own hands! He had no other choice.
"Mycroft, someone is watching me." He spoke quickly into the phone.
A long sigh came through on the other end "Is that so? How do you know?"
"I haven't the slightest! I swept every available surface for any foreign technology and I found nothing but someone is still watching!" Sherlock tried his best to keep his voice calm and measured.
"Indeed? Well now that is very interesting." Mycroft did actually seem a little intrigued at this, Sherlock admitting he didn't know something was no small matter.
"I simply called to check that it is not you."
"Not guilty. Though maybe you've acquired a ghost? I would not be too surprised if that flat is haunted after being under your care for as long as it has." Mycroft frowned at the dial tone, he had really thought that was quite funny.
Sherlock paced in his blue dressing gown trying to decide what he could do about this problem. It had been weeks, almost a full month of feeling like he needed to look over his shoulder at every moment because someone was right there, he knew it! And that same person everywhere he went, they had something to do with this.
"STOP IT!" he couldn't hold it in, it just exploded out of him. All the stress and nerves had worn down his control.
A dark chuckle rolled over him and he stiffened. "Oh darling, did I upset you? You should have said so earlier."
Right in front of him a man, early 30's if he had to guess, materialized out of the darkness on the landing outside his flat. He was impeccably dressed in a slim fitted, perfectly tailored, but forgettable, suit. A black trench coat was draped casually over his arm along with a green and gold silk scarf. He leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe and smirked at Sherlock as he tried to collect his thoughts.
There was little Sherlock could tell about this mystery man, there wasn't a speck of dust or lint on him and his accent was tinged with something he couldn't quite place. His hair as well, slicked back and quite long: obviously foreign.
Straightening up Loki strode into the room "Oh dear, Sherlock, I'm really quite put out you don't recognize me. I recognize you, even if you are not quite as…formally attired as usual." He smirked as he passed Sherlock to sit in John's old chair.
Sherlock eyed him warily "That's John's chair."
"Not any more. He no longer lives here." Loki gestured to Sherlock's leather chair across from himself and waited for him to sit. Once he did Loki continued "Really Sherlock? Sentiment for another man, are you trying to make me jealous?"
"Should I care whether or not you are jealous?" Sherlock replied flippantly, not liking at all the fact that he was not in control of this conversation.
"You should indeed, jealousy is quite dangerous, especially on me." Loki cocked his head and studied him further.
"I have seen you, in crowds for the last month but I could not remember your face. Why?"
"Ahhhh, you did not remember my face, as you usually do, because I did not wish you to." Loki stood and aimlessly wandered a few steps from his chair.
Sherlock took advantage and studied him, cataloguing everything he could so he could examine it further once his visitor left "Who are you?"
Suddenly Loki was nose to nose with Sherlock sporting a full Cheshire grin "Oh come now love don't be dull. I'm sure you will figure it out."
Sherlock was determined not to look startled as he stared back into molten emerald. He did his best not to flinch as cold fingers fluttered over his throat. The icy tips scaled his neck to rest just under his chin, forcing his face up just so. Loki's eyes ravaged Sherlock's face, taking in the contours of his cheekbones, the slight crook of his nose, perfect cupids bow and intense, ocean-deep eyes, pupils blown wide with fear.
Loki hummed loudly, smiled and whispered lowly "I do so love the look of resolute resistance to fear on you."
Sherlock opened his mouth to retort but Loki snapped his jaw shut for him "Do not try to lie to me. It is an exercise in futility." Loki took one more moment to memorize the slight surprise on Sherlock's face before he stood back up and made for the door.
"I shall leave you a clue as to who I am and when you do find out, don't hesitate to call." He tossed back over his shoulder before winking and descending the stairs. "In the mean time I'll leave you to it! I'll expect that call within the hour!"
Sherlock was up out of his chair the moment the man was down the stairs to see him leave, if he got in a car, a taxi, walked, which direction he went, anything to help him but it was like the man never stepped off their doorstep because Sherlock did not see him go.
Sherlock laid on the couch 5 minutes after Loki left, hands pressed together under his chin. The man was a puzzle indeed, the suit gave nothing away it was bland and perfect, nothing like the man in it. He moved on, Hands: not dry or cracked: he cares about the way he looks, fingernails: not ragged and dirty, he has plenty of time on his hands (no pun intended). The hands told him money, old money at that. His face had not given him much to go on either except that he had the same tired, almost haunted look that Sherlock had after a case. So he was much like Sherlock in that aspect, thoughts always moving, connecting, working. It was tiring. But if Sherlock were to follow that logic, and this man was similar to him, what would Sherlock do if their places were reversed?
Sherlock sat up abruptly "Of course! The answer isn't in how he looks. It's in what he said! Clever!"
Sherlock stood and began to pace only to stop at the first turn. The green and gold scarf sat innocuously over the arm of the sofa. Snatching it up he examined it closely, determining what it was made out of, no tags, searching his memory banks he came to the conclusion that had never seen anything like it. The weave was incredibly fine, much too fine for any commercial distributor. Private then…who had the time OR money to commission a pure silk scarf?! Some one very rich indeed, or particularly powerful and persuasive which this man clearly was. Holding it close he smelled it, trying to see if there was any cologne residue, instead he smelled something akin to a burgeoning lightning storm with a faint hint of apples and leather. No, no, no! This obviously was not working. He reverted to his original epiphany.
"You should have said so earlier." Implying he has the means to watch Sherlock at all times.
"I'm really quite put out you don't recognize me." He's well known, someone most people would recognize.
"Jealousy is quite dangerous, especially on me." The reason why he is well known has to do with a streak of jealousy, possibly toward a sibling. Common in well-off families, most likely scenario considering his upbringing.
"I do so love the look of resolute resistance to fear on you." Now THAT was telling. Sherlock had gotten a good look at his face and had taken his pulse at that point, he had been very aroused at the thought of Sherlock being afraid of him.
"Do not try to lie to me. It is an exercise in futility." The emphasis was wrong, something was amiss with that sentence. Sherlock's eyes landed on the scarf and the wind was almost knocked out of him. Of course! Old money, Royalty, clever, witty, tired, haunted, powerful, persuasive, green, gold, black, apples, leather, jealous, sibling, don't lie, don't lie, don't lie! NEW YORK!
"Loki!" He whispered it to himself, could hardly believe it. He was almost sure that those videos had been faked by the crazy American news reporters!
"8 minutes, color me impressed." Sherlock jumped slightly, whipping his head to the left to see the same man who had left his flat not 10 minutes ago, grinning widely at him. "Yes, you will do very well."
A/N: Again R/R! you like? you no like? moar? "Oh god please no!"?
