Loki is Johnlocked

by MethuselahPixie

John and Sherlock adopted a child to make their partnership - marriage, whatever they call it - founded. That was nine years ago. A baby found cast away in the cold, like so many others. What makes this boy so special? And why is Loki back on earth?

2. Flung Therethrough

The saying 'trapped like a rat' is such an overused, pestering figure of well-being. It was so abhorred, even, that just the thought of it brought bile into his throat. Shrugging his shoulders violently, he jerked his head. Black hair flew.

The night sky above him shone with the stars of a foreign galaxy. Here beneath the single pale moon lay a battered figure. A flash from the tesseract broke him from his chains and flung him through dimensions. He battled demons and pulled himself from ravines of living black blood that acted similarly to quick sand and endured monsoons of volcanic rock, only to tumble through the last portal into... this. A graveyard for garbage. Hills and mountains of plastic bags and rotting food.

Pushing to his feet, Loki dragged himself through the filth. He knocked aside milk jugs reeking with fermentation. His boots sank into garbage. It was disgusting. A far, far fall for a god. Not into death, but into shame. And for a saying, trapped like a rat seemed perfectly suiting for a god flung from power, defeated by the hands of arrogant heroes, put through the very pits of hell, and then brought back... almost in one piece. Only his pride had been ripped from him.

Hours he dragged his legs through that human scourge. Their waste. Their pathetic sludge. As the morning began to approach, he finally flung himself over the last hill and rolled onto solid earth. Cold, hard dirt met his shoulder, and he managed to stop himself at the foot of a large metal box. A cry from inside roused his attention, but he was wounded, torn, damaged and exhausted, on the verge of losing consciousness. He panted vile air as a creature in an orange vest burst from the metal box, and bent over him, flipping out a small device and talking into it very, very loudly. With a groan, Loki tried to get up and failed, his arms giving out on him. He lay flat out on the ground, on his stomach, breathing in the dust instead of the filth. Darkness sucked him in. The human in the vest grabbed him and shook him, but it was too late. He was already out cold.