A/N: This piece of amazing was written with a friend of mine, Leah N. on Google +. Ljota(Loi-ta)/Lokilein is her character, and Violet is mine.

VIOLET

I've felt some legitimate fear in my life — I have chased killers through the streets of London; I've seen my best friends suffer and almost die in front of my eyes; I've been on the mat of Death's door time and time again — but the I-almost-wet-myself-fear of my friend sneaking up on me, for some reason, never goes away.

"Hah!" She giggled, pointing at my shocked face.

"Lokilein!" I yelled my nickname for her. I had been in my Mind Palace for some time, thinking over a case — working, for heaven's sake! — and she decided to act like the mischievous five year old she is, and appear from thin air again.

" How many bloody times have I told you not to interrupt me when I'm thinking?" I growled, getting up from the floor upon which I had fallen — in fact, I had been lying on the couch, but she had scared me to the point of me rolling off, barely avoiding the table.

"No need to swear, Holmes," she said, grinning, stealing my spot on the couch, imitating me.

"Get off the couch, that's my spot."

"Sh! I'm in my Mind Palace!" she said, matching her voice perfectly to mine, which was unnerving. I knew that once she was in the mood for trouble, there was no getting her out of it, so I went to get some tea started. It was already 5:00 — I had been thinking for 2.3 hours — I could have been working longer, but since I had company, however rude she was, it was my duty to make tea.

"Blackberry, or lotus this time?" I yelled to her, rummaging through the cupboard.

"Blackberry, please — lots of sugar, preferably, or… what's that, honey, please," she said, in her regular voice now. Of the few things I have inherited from my mother, it was her lighter voice; Lokilein — or, Ljota, as her real name is — got her voice quality from her father, just like the rest of her. (She and I are Daddy's girls, in every sense of the term.) What I mean is — it is evident when she is trying to imitate me, or be herself.

But, I knew her well — honey? She took tea black, always. As I put the honey into the cup, and made a cup for myself, I thought. Tense voice, trying to hide it, holding something back — meant to be a social visit, but secretly wants to consult with me. Well…

I walked out with the cups of tea, and laid them on the table in front of her. She did not reach out. Good Gallifrey, she's not well. If she's showing not well, something is very wrong…

I then sat down on the table, cross-legged, placing her honey-infused tea on her stomach — she caught it just in time, staring at me with her bright blue-green eyes — with so much fake malice, it was pathetic. Her straight black hair was flopped over the arm of the velvet sofa — tousling it even more — her black and green shirt was re-used (traveling), her leather boots muddy. (Busy, tired.)

She was bothered. And showing it. She never showed anything except rage or devilish glee, just like I only showed interest and happiness. So — the time was ripe to be blunt.

"You're bothered — Oh, don't even bother to deny it, Ljota — you just wanted to talk and tease, like young women do," She looked away from me, scoffing — I'm 21 on Earth — but Ljota? She is 90 on Earth, but she was aged as a 18 year old; she looked younger than I — in her father's eyes, she was about 2, by my calculations — so she scoffed when I said "young" .

"You know what I mean, Ljota. What I am trying to say, is that you meant to be social, but you secretly wish to consult. There is something you wanted to get off your chest, but being… you… you wish to not say anything, laugh it off, as always, much like myself," I said, taking a sip of my tea. She almost spit hers out, I believe.

"Holy, Odin, you read my mind…. Have you any idea how much I hate that, Vi? And they say I am the one with magic," she muttered, sipping her too -sweet tea. " This is disgusting."

"You said honey!"

"I forgot how sweet blackberry tea is…" she sighed, staring at the blank ceiling. I had never seen her so depressed.

"Ljota, what's wrong? I am an unemotional machine, but you may tell me — I will help you." She fidgeted, quite uncomfortable.

"I… remember how I said I would visit my father after our last case together?" she said, slowly. I did — she often said that. For the past few months, she had come with me on my more fun cases — my other friend, Lilly Watson, was still in med-school. Last case, she said she would not be able to assist me for some time, because she was going to look for her father, whom she had not seen in months.

"Well — the Bifrost… It is not working for me," she sighed, her hand tensing. That was news to me. Well… not really, it made sense, after what had happened a while ago in the US.

"Lokilein, remember… incident with the Convergence in 2013, 23 years ago — Loki will still not be trusted —"

"That should not mean that I am banned from my father, from my home!" she said, jumping out off the couch, and pacing. The rage was setting in, for her. I knew how to calm her down, and, to be honest, I have my bad days — but, her eyes were flames. I stood up, just in case she decided to break one of the potted plants again. Yes, again.

"I know. But, Ljota, I am merely just stating the facts. Just calm down, please, so that nothing happens to my flat again," I said, while she growled and sat down. She took one of the pens that was lying on the table, and magicked it into a dagger.

"Put it down, Ljota —"

"No."

"Fine. So what do you want me to do?" I asked, folding my hands together so they didn't do anything stupid.

"Who said I needed your help?" she muttered, smoothing her shoulder-length hair down with her hand that wasn't twirling the golden dagger around.

"Oh, shut up, don't be stupid. Just tell me what is wrong, and we can get on with our lives," I said, very impatient, leaning forward to show that I was sincere. After a while, she opened up — tough nut to crack, all of my friends.

"Fine. I've told you the problem. I just have no way to get to Asgard without the Bifrost, for father has taught me none of the secret routes. I know you have that thing that works much like the Bifrost —"

"— Vortex Manipulator. You wish me to use it to get us into Asgard, somehow? But… wouldn't your father be imprisoned?"

"YES!" she spat, because, who wouldn't have it at a touchy subject. "Yes, he is currently imprisoned, as always, because Odin is always imprisoning him!" As she said this, she threw the dagger with dangerous accuracy at the wall with the best wall paper.

"RASSILON, Ljota, control your emotions!" I said, as I pulled the dagger out of the wall — a bit hard, even for a strong person like myself.

"Okay," I said, changing the dagger back into a pen with my Sonic Screwdriver,

"So we find a way to get into Asgard, find your father, perhaps bust him out of jail, happily ever after, yes?" She contemplated it, as I mentally stepped on my own foot for letting myself say I would bust a criminal out of jail. She nodded.

" Fine. But… how do you propose secretly getting into Asgard, of all places? It's not a simple bank on Midgard, Holmes!"

I didn't want to know how she knew how easy banks were to break into, but I continued. " I have a theory. Let's go downstairs, ask my Dad," I said, heading to my room to change into decent clothes — black dress-shirt and black jeans, just in case we had to sneak around.

"What would Sherlock Holmes know about Asgard?" she asked after I came back.

"He's a Timelord too, you know," I said, putting on my black leather boots.

It is now time to explain my personal story, I realize, or else the rest of the narrative will not make any sense.

If you are reading this narrative, you are either, a) not from Earth, or, if you are, b) reading it past the year 2045 — I'm not releasing it to humans until that date — only after that date are "aliens" treated humanely by the human race. Therefore, if you are reading this story, if you can call it that, then there is a great chance you know of the Doctor — the last Timelord in existence, saver of Worlds, Oncoming Storm, man of legend — my Grandfather.

Back on Gallifrey, his planet, he had several children. My father, known in his youth as "the Detective", now known as Sherlock Holmes, as well as his elder brother, Mycroft (then known as "the Agent", I believe), followed in the footsteps of their father — they got bored of never being able to do anything, stole a TARDIS, and headed to Earth.

The year was 1879.

My father did become the Detective, my uncle, an Agent of the British Government, and they were still pretty young — only a couple of centuries, I believe.

Then, my father ran out of money. He signed up for a flatshare, and, funny enough, met another Timelord who got bored of life on Gallifrey, who had escaped with him, the Soldier. The Soldier had just served as an army doctor in a war on Earth, so he was out of money, "with no kith nor kin in London". Dad decided to let the Soldier document their adventures together, and they had many cases; many adventures.

So the World was introduced to Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson for the first time.

But — the Time War came… Long story short, both where called to fight, both escaped in the last seconds, before… it ended. They didn't know that either lived, however — and they had both regenerated, besides.

Dad and Uncle Mycroft (who had also regenerated) found themselves on Earth again, back in England — where some very friendly humans that most know as my grandparents raised them, that's how young-looking Dad and Uncle's regenerated bodies were. No one remembered the names "Sherlock" nor "Mycroft" Holmes, nor "John Watson" because Uncle found a way… well, he took care of that.

When my father found himself broke again, he signed up for a flatshare once more — and once more met Dr. John Watson. The rest is known to the modern world.

A while later, to the surprise of everyone, Sherlock Holmes fell in love and married Molly Hooper — a year later, I was born. Being half Timelord, I have two hearts, a large brain, the ability to regenerate, and that odd power to sync with/"read" someone's mind. I was later given a Vortex Manipulator (which looks like a fob watch, to which I will refer in the story), and a sonic screwdriver, so at the age of 18, I took up the family business, and became a Consulting Detective — for the Universe at large, though. Scotland Yard is for Dad.

As I regarded upon before, Lilly Watson is busy with school (I skipped first grade, which is why I graduated college at 21 instead of 22). People insist, for some reason, that I must travel with someone, so when I met Ljota Lokidottir, and saw how capable she is, I asked her if she wanted to have a little fun, and we've been solving crimes for five months now.

There are no normal friendships in my family, the same is with hers. I suppose, I must clarify — she is the daughter of Loki, known to humans as "the god of mischief" in Norse is he whom we were about to look for — and, you can imagine why our task was difficult.

We made our way up to 221B Baker St. I had keys to the flat, so I just let myself in, Ljota right behind.

Dad was doing an experiment on an ever-cluttered table. I noticed he had grey dye in again. Timelords do not age in most of their Regenerations, so once Dad's child-like state of his Regeneration was grown out of, he was bound to look like he was in his 30s until he Regenerated again — if he chose to. He put grey dye in his dark curls to look human — and, to make Mum feel a bit better about the whole thing.

"Ah, Violet. Long time no see," he said, putting the eyeball he was torching down, and sliding off his fire-retardant gloves. "And…" he struggled for the name he had deleted.

"Ljota," she replied, not for the first or last time.

"Oh, yes…" he said, absently. Mum walked in then, happy to see us.

"Violet, Ljota!" she said, giving each of us a quick hug. Ljota was a little taken aback, but she hugged back anyway.

"Haven't seen you in a month… too busy saving the Universe to visit your Mum and Dad?" she teased, lightly, as always. God, I love my mother.

"Something like that, sorry," I said, as Mum directed us to the couch. She and Dad knew straight off that we weren't just there for the sake of social visits. Ljota was fidgety, impatient. Dad sat in the "Consulting Chair" as I called it, the business-like black one, not dissimilar to the one I had downstairs. I pulled up two chairs for Ljota and I to sit in, Mum in the red armchair. I would have sat in the couch, but it was a bit far away to speak comfortably.

"So — Ljota, you're looking for your father, are you?" Dad asked, hands steepled under his chin. Ljota was perturbed again — usually, she was the one with all the tricks up her sleeve, but when she was around my family and I, we were on equal ground — something she was taught to never be.

"Lokilein…" I muttered.

"Yes. Mr. Holmes, may I ask —"

"Sherlock, please. Boots, hair, shirt — you're usually quite organized, but, not today. So you've been traveling. But you look tired, distressed, so you're searching for someone. Now, I remember you, just not your name — you are the daughter of Loki. My guess is, you don't have much other family that you hold so dear — father Loki it is, then," he rattled off.

It was obvious, for us, but the way he said it… Mum stared daggers into him, as did I. Ljota was visibly upset again.

"Oh… that was blunt… right… sorry." Dad said, his light blue eyes embarrassed.

"Go on, Ljota," Mum said, gently.

"First, how do you know of my father?" Ljota asked, hiding her anger.

"Well… to be honest, back when. Back when I was on Gallifrey, I liked looking after Earth and the surrounding planets. Asgard was like Gallifrey in a few ways, so, my eye was on it a few times. Loki was on our people's radar anyway, so I remember him well enough." he said, nonchalantly. Ljota, again, disliked this, but continued.

"So, you know of the Bifrost."

"Of course. It is really the Vortex in a contained form, I'm sure you know," he said, looking at me. I had suspected, of course. Ljota looked at me.

"You knew?"

"Uh… I had my suppositions," I said, smiling guiltily. She was going to cause my second regeneration, and I knew it.

"We'll talk about that later, Holmes — er, Violet, sorry," she said, looking at Mum and Dad.

"So, your problem is getting into Asgard without the Bifrost?"

"Yes. But, as my friend here pointed out," Ljota continued, "If we use her device —"

"— Vortex Manipulator"

"— To get into Asgard, we don't know where to land. We cannot go into the heart of the city, not with me, a daughter of the most hated Asgardian in history!"

"There has to be another way?" Mum asked, interested now.

"I do not know of any — my father taught me none."

Dad thought for a second, his face set like stone, the gears of his mind working at top speed.

"Well… there is a way, but it involves getting wet," Dad finally said.

"How?" Ljota almost screamed from excitement.

"Well, Violet has a VM, the Bifrost is the Vortex. If you use a small bit of 'magic' to tell the Bifrost to shoot you a little further than the gate, the guard —"

"Heimdall" Ljota spat, disliking the person the name belonged to, I deduced.

"— May miss you. He is all-seeing, I know, but if you do it quick enough, it should work in a way that even he will not notice."

"Are you sure?" Ljota asked.

"80%, yes."

"Oh, that is comforting." she muttered. I didn't like the stats either, but I said,

"Lokilein, do you want to find your father, or no? This is our best shot."

She thought, and there was a long silence.

"Well?" I pressed. She smiled.

"We're breaking into one of the most secure planets in Creation, right under Odin's crooked nose? Of course I shall!"