"I don't think you should come, brother."
The raven-haired man frowned. "I am an expert in this matter! Please, this is a dangerous artifact! If it's in that woman's hands-"
"Honestly, brother, I wish I could trust you as much as I want to," the blond interrupted, "but I don't. And what if you're seen? I can't have my friends detecting you, they'll think I lied."
The younger man shrugged. "Couldn't you simply tell them the truth? I mean, they do trust you, yes?"
"Never thought I'd hear you say that in all my life."
The raven bowed his head, a tear slipping out onto his pale cheek. "I know. I'm sorry."
Sherlock ducked behind a pile of crates just as two guards entered the huge chamber. He peered out from behind the wooden crates just enough to catch a glimpse of the goons, curious to know what they looked like since they were the first ones he had seen thus far. His jaw dropped when he saw how enormous they were - they towered easily over him and bulged with copious amounts of muscle. They could snap me in half like a toothpick, he thought. But no ordinary human could grow this large! And there are two of them! Although now that I think about it, that woman was rather tall as well. Perhaps they're all related? But what he could see of them through the Nordic armor didn't suggest any familial connections. Hmm…
"Keep your eyes peeled. He could be anywhere," the red-haired guard warned his partner. The blond one snorted.
"It's just a simple Midgardian! What harm could he do to us?"
What harm, indeed.
"From what I heard, he doesn't even come close to the dark prince, and he was one of the weakest warriors the battlefield has ever seen! In my opinion, there's no need to worry about the little gnat!"
"But also like the dark prince, he's extremely intelligent-"
Thank you! thought Sherlock.
"-so we have to be careful in case he pulls a trick or such like."
"Can a human really be that intelligent?" the blond guard wondered.
"Amora thought so. At least, she did until she met him. It's rumored that he's the greatest criminal investigator in the realm or something of the sort." The redhead glanced around. "Apparently he faked his own death in front of his dearest friend, who happens to be a healer! Anyone who can do that must surely be a genius!"
Despite himself, Sherlock cracked a smile. So these people, whoever they were, knew that aspect about him and were frightened by it. Well, at least the redhead, anyhow. The blond seemed to think he was just as stupid as everyone else. What to do, what to do… play dumb or get smart? he debated.
How about get out of here instead? With that thought, he slunk towards the door the guards had come through, keeping his eye on the two men all the while. Just as he reached the halfway point, the redhead turned and spotted him.
"There he is! Quick, get him!"
Just my luck. The young detective broke into a run; the guards hollered after him and followed. He glanced behind, and his eyes widened. They were nearly on top of him!
"Grab him! Now!"
Giant paws seized his arms. Sherlock felt mysterious energy shoot through his body and explode outwards. It flung the guards back and threw him forwards, and he hit the wall and fell on the floor. He lay there, his strength sapped.
What… what just happened?
"He's stolen the Aether! Alert Amora!" the redhead cried.
"On it!" his companion responded.
I need to get up…. Sherlock rolled over and struggled to his feet, using the wall to steady himself. I need to get out of here….
He ran as fast as he could, dodging guards and slipping through rooms until he burst out into the fresh night air. And into a crowd of guards, all armed to the teeth with maces, spears, and axes.
The brunette paled and gulped. Physically, he'd already lost. Mentally, he was running out of ideas. As the biggest brute took a step towards him, he bit his lip. Maybe I could talk my way out? Although if Amora knows about me and wants me dead, I don't have much to go on.
Let's try anyway. Sherlock raised his hands beside his head. "Um, so sorry, fellows! I'm afraid I haven't got the faintest idea where I am or how I got here, so if you could direct me to the nearest phone box, I'll be on my way!"
The leader glared at him and raised his mace. "KILL HIM!" he thundered. He swung his mace down on the young man.
This time Sherlock saw the red energy blast out of his body and throw the attacker into the crowd as he fell to the ground, clinging to consciousness. I… I don't understand…. What's happening to me? The angry yells of the crowd drew closer.
"Get back! Get back, you mongrels! Stay away from this poor man or you will find yourselves in the Underworld!" a man shouted above him. Sherlock blinked and found himself face-to-face with the most brilliant pair of green eyes he had ever seen in his life. The face above him gave a gentle smile. "It's all right. You're safe now."
"Wouldn't say that yet, brother," a blond man replied. Sherlock did a double-take- the man was floating in the air, suspended from a hammer he twirled above his head!
Great. Now I know I'm drugged. He felt slender arms slip around him and the air blurred….
"There. Now you are no longer in their grasp," the cultured voice told him.
Sherlock sat up to get a better view of his smiling rescuer. Pale skin like mine, sharp cheekbones, wavy raven hair, and those kind yet haunted emerald eyes… "Who are you? How did you find me?"
The man's smile faltered. "Y… you don't know who I am?"
"No, but I would appreciate it if you could answer me."
The young man gave a silvery chuckle. "To the first question- I'm a bit surprised you didn't recognize me. As for the second… well, I don't quite think you would believe me, Mr. Holmes. Although you didn't seem disturbed when I teleported just now."
"Wait, teleported?!" Sherlock sat bolt upright. Sure enough, they were a block away from the compound. The detective looked the other man in the eye. "So you're related to this Amora? Why did you save me?"
"Related? No, no, no, you've got it all wrong! My brother and I came to retrieve the Aether! Of course, now that you've got it inside you…" The young man sighed. "If only it had stayed put, we wouldn't have to deal with this mess."
"I didn't touch it intentionally," Sherlock retorted. The raven shook his head.
"That's not what I meant. You must realize, none of this is your fault - it's all Amora's doing. She stole the Aether, after all."
"I see. I don't suppose you could teleport me to Baker Street, then? My best friend is likely going to kill me for being away so long without giving him a sign that I'm not dead."
The man frowned. "I wish I could, but because you're housing a powerful artifact within your body, you'll have to come with my brother and me to a secure facility where we can extract it. But don't worry, we'll notify your friend of your whereabouts."
"Couldn't you just teleport this… Aether… out of my body?"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You see-"
The blond man landed beside them just then. "Get us to headquarters!"
"But-"
"NOW!" the blond roared. The raven nodded and grabbed hold of Sherlock and his arms. The air blurred again…
…and Sherlock found himself standing in a sharp, clean room, surrounded by several men and two women who hurriedly drew various weapons and aimed them at the trio. He glanced at each of the new people, reading them.
Short man with bow and quiver- assassin. Redhead with wrist gauntlets- also assassin. Brunette with goatee and mechanical glove- inventor, going by the slight grease stains under his nails. Timid brunette with glasses- scientist. Tall, muscular blond with a modern haircut- soldier. I haven't the faintest idea who the bald red-skinned man is- cosplayer, perhaps? The other woman is Eastern European, seen some trauma…. not sure what she does for a living. Maybe model?
The short goatee-man took a threatening step toward the trio. "Thought you said Reindeer Games was gone for good, Point Break."
"Stand down, Tony." The red man blocked the inventor with his arm. "His intentions are harmless. He didn't come here to cause trouble."
The raven-haired man stared at the yellow stone embedded in the red man's forehead, frightened. He whimpered. The blond with the hammer patted him on the back.
"Calm down, brother, he can lift Mjolnir."
Sherlock started. "Wait, Mjolnir?! As in the mythical Norse hammer?" Why did't I make the connection earlier?
"Geez, isn't it obvious, dude?" the archer griped.
The young detective faltered. "But- I don't understand- it's just a myth-"
A look of realization crossed Tony's face. "Oh. Oh, shoot. You have no idea who we are, do you. Seriously, Holmes, you've never heard of the Avengers?" The archer muttered something about "got over that quick." The inventor rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Barton, I'm trying to talk to this guy!"
"The Avengers are a fictitious group of comic superheroes," Sherlock replied. The archer scoffed.
"Sure. And Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."
The tall brunette narrowed his eyes. "You know my name and think I don't really exist?"
"What do you think you're doing to us, pal?"
Sherlock bit his lip. "I've got to still be comatose," he murmured. The others laughed, except for the raven-haired man, who gave him a sympathetic look.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Holmes, this must be a lot to take in at the moment," he said, "what with the Aether and all."
"Aether? You mean the mystical red stuff that was partly why Dark Elves invaded London a few years ago?" asked Tony. He turned to Sherlock. "I wasn't there for any of it, but sorry about that whole mess anyway. Um. Yeah. That's not good. We need to get that out of you as soon as we can."
Sherlock's head spun, and he felt faint.
"Um, excuse me?" the raven piped up. "Could we please get Mr. Holmes a room? I'm sure he's had a rather trying day and is very exhausted."
"Right. You three, follow me. Tony, Natasha, keep Clint restrained until we get Loki to a safer room." The soldier turned and strode out the door with the trio behind him.
"I wasn't exactly throwing myself at him, if you couldn't tell!" Barton shouted after him.
As they walked, the blond introduced himself. "Steve Rogers. It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Holmes."
"Um, thank you." Sherlock fell into step with him. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"
Steve frowned, confused, then laughed. "Oh. That. Right. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
"World War II."
Sherlock's eyebrows shot up. "Impossible! You should be dead or in old age by now!"
Steve chuckled. "Ever hear of the super soldier serum?"
"No. Why would I?"
"It enhances human metabolism and provides a person with superhuman strength, speed, agility, resilience, and aging resistance. Actually, I shouldn't be too surprised you've never heard of it, considering you probably either don't read comics or hack into SHIELD on a regular basis."
"SHIELD… I believe Mycroft may have mentioned that once. He said it was some form of peacekeeping organization."
"Yeah, I think I might have seen him around HQ a couple times. Tall, brown hair with receding hairline, sharp-dressed, kinda portly guy, really intelligent."
Despite his agitation and faintness, Sherlock smirked. "That's Mycroft all right."
"Steven?" the other blond interrupted. "If you don't mind, after Mr. Holmes is settled in, could you direct my brother and me to a safe room where Clint cannot obtain access? Or anyone else who wishes to bring him harm, for that matter."
"Sure, no problem," the super soldier replied.
"Thank you." The other blond then turned to Sherlock. "You may have already guessed, but I am Thor Odinson, prince of Asgard. Forgive me for not introducing my brother and myself earlier - after all, we were attempting to get you out of that rather sticky situation."
"I… see," Sherlock murmured. "And you are who he calls his brother?" he asked, addressing the raven. "You can't be related, you're two completely different individuals."
"I'm adopted. My name is Loki. Loki Laufeyson."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "The trickster god?"
"We're not gods, you know," Loki replied. "We experience birth and death, injury and sickness, just like humans. Asgardians are essentially extremely sturdy, long-lived humans who have access to higher technology and magic."
"And you?"
Loki lowered his gaze. "I'm a Frost Giant, or so Odin tells me. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure that I'm fully Frost Giant. I haven't all the features, you see."
Sherlock observed Loki and noted the young man's embarrassment. Must be a touchy topic for him. Best to stay away from it then.
Just then, Steve stopped in front of a plain white door. He held a card in front of the scanner on the doorframe, and the door unlocked. Pushing it open, he ushered Sherlock inside. "Nobody lives here, but we keep this room furnished for guests just in case."
"Clearly," Sherlock breathed, grateful for the sense of normalcy the room provided. The warmth of the mahogany furniture and the brown textiles gave off a soothing air that calmed the young detective's nerves. He sighed, the exhaustion from the day's events finally hitting him hard, and slumped in a nearby sofa.
"Guess I'll leave you to it, then. Have a good rest, Mr. Holmes," Steve said and left the room.
Sherlock stood and went over to the bed, but before he could sit down, a pile of neatly folded pajamas appeared. The young man started and stared at the clothes for a moment, then remembered Loki's teleportation. He sensed the sorcerer's presence in the room and turned to face him. "Thank you."
Loki smiled. "You're welcome, Mr. Holmes."
"Sherlock, please." Sherlock couldn't help but smile as well. Loki chuckled.
"Very well then, as you wish." He sobered. "We'll find a way to help you, Sherlock. You have my word that I will not stop until the Aether is free from your body."
Sherlock nodded. "Thank you," he repeated.
Loki smiled again and vanished.
Sherlock glanced at the pajamas. It was so late it was probably tomorrow, and he was so very tired and confused. He dressed and slipped under the covers, and within seconds he had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, the events and cares of the previous day entirely forgotten.
A/N: Hi everybody! Captain Spunker here with the second chapter of Silver Wizard! I just want to say I'm so, so sorry for not updating earlier. Life kinda gets in the way. And sometimes I lose interest, especially since I've already laid out pretty much the whole story in my head. Having to revisit it and go back over every detail is, to put it Sherlock's way, "boring!" Often a few things get mistakenly changed or misremembered - for example, I was going to have Loki meet Sherlock in his flat at the very beginning of the story, but I forgot about it until after I posted the first chapter. Oops! XD (By the way, let me know if I should edit that in, and I'll do it. I feel like I should, but I'm not sure what you guys think.)
Again, thank you so much for reading my story! Like, comment, review, no flames or profanity please!
I don't own Sherlock or the Avengers, just the plot. If I did, well... this story wouldn't be just fanfiction...
