Death and Flowers


He had taken to wandering the Underworld on his own again. He could not bear to be in his chambers, nor could he bear to stay in his palatial mansion. Not while she wandered through the halls, her natural, heavenly glow still about her despite her extended stay in the Land of the Dead. He could not bear to look at her anymore; the stubborn fire in her eyes as she looked at him with hate and something akin to pity.

It was as if, when she looked at him, she could see him, really see him, and the thought made his innards roll. Nobody had looked at him like that in a millennia, not even her, the Goddess. She had frustrated him to Tartarus and back, but never to this extent. She had not forced him to shun his own house. She had never made him feel so exposed with just one line. She had been a puzzle. He had pushed his very impressive brain to the limits in his attempt to figure her out, but she had been ruled by logic, and logic he understood. Her every action, every deception, every attempt at seduction had been calculative and logical; he understood why she did what she did.

And now, the Lord of the Dead had been forced to wander, unable to return to his home, because of a little slip of a Goddess with warm eyes that made him feel strangely inadequate.

He had tried going back to his chambers after that dreadful confrontation, but her sobs had filtered through the shield he had erected in his mind as he stood outside the door. He should have been irritated by the woman's pathetic snivels as she sobbed into his sheets; he held no sympathy for those who came to his court weeping and sniveling, hoping to sway him.

And yet, as she sobbed, no doubt wetting his silk sheets with her tears and mucus, he did not feel disgust. He wanted to go to her, pull her warm form into his arms, bury his nose into her sweet smelling hair; he wanted to kiss her, kiss her tears away, taste her delicious mouth again and again. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to promise her that he would not hurt her, let no one hurt her, he would be anything and everything she wanted him to be.

The moment flashed away just as quick as it came, and he ran, raising his mental shields as he did. He was not a weakling, he was the bloody King of the Underworld, and eons spent strengthening mental shields, ensuring that nothing distracted him from the task at hand, did not crumble away to dust at one little goddess's heartfelt sobbing.

"Just let her go."

He raised his head, and turned to look at the speaker. Working out the creaks in his neck, he stared impassively at his friend as the Keeper of the Gates walked towards him, in that humanoid form he preferred.

"Let her go," John said calmly, sitting down next to him with a familiarity not one of Sherlock's other subjects enjoyed. "Let her go, and come back to your senses."

The Lord of the Dead did not bother answering, but then again, John hadn't expected an answer. "What do you stand to gain by making her stay here? Other than the war your brothers and sisters rage outside your gates?"

"Why are you here, John?" Sherlock drawled, "Should you not be at the gates?"

"We have reached an impasse," John replied. "I think your brother will hold another meeting in Olympus, and he expects you to attend this time."

Sherlock gazed at the Styx, the rise and fall of the tide oddly calming him. "I see Mycroft has finally learned not to bother beating down at my gates. I thought we settled this eon ago. He gets the Heavens; I get total control of the Underworlds."

"Lestrade wanted to keep battling," John said. "He was her suitor, you know."

There was a subtle stiffening of Sherlock's back that only John could have discerned. "Was he now?"

"Yes, he was," John continued, slowly now that he was aware he was threading thin ice, "Demeter would not let them marry, but I guess he still feels for her."

Sherlock slid off the rock he was perched on. "Lovely chatting with you," he said perfunctorily, "Now off you go. Don't want any of the souls to escape now, do we?"

"Sherlock!" John shouted as he too, jumped off the rock. "Do you not understand what I am saying? We have lost many hounds, your hounds today!"

Sherlock whirled around to look at him, eyes wide and John knew he was paying him his full attention. "Lestrade," he explained. "He brought in one of his Cyclops. Killed off a dozen of the lower hounds before I could get there."

"All I'm saying is," he continued. "You do not love her, Sherlock. Let her go. She deserves to be free and don't you see what she is? She is a goddess of the light. The Earth will suffer without her; she will suffer without the Earth. In her grief, Demeter has stopped her favors to the mortals. Earth is dying, Sherlock."

The Lord of the Dead seemed to temporarily lose his ability to say anything. John had not doubted for a second that his speech would work, but Sherlock actually looked moved.

The Spring Goddess must have gotten under his skin deeper than John ever thought.

Sherlock began to walk away, and John followed. "We might not even have lost as many hounds if you showed up! Where have you been? You haven't been performing your duties correctly, I'm worried, Sherlock-!"

"I must return our guest to her home tonight," Sherlock said without looking at him. "And I will talk to my brothers. Demeter will be dealt with, you need not worry, old friend. I have been negligent in my duties, but no longer. I will give her back."

If John did not know any better, his friend actually looked broken.


He hadn't expected her to be in the throne room. He had expected to find her curled up in his bed, frightened and a nervous wreck. Or maybe he had expected her to be wandering around the palace, her face a blank mask except for her fiery, stubborn eyes.

He had not expected her to be in his throne room, sitting at the foot of his dark throne, singing softly to a ghostly little girl.

She stopped in mid note as soon as she saw him, and the soul of the little girl grasped at her hands, fright written clearly on every inch of her body.

The Spring Goddess looked at him defiantly; she was afraid of him, he could see that clearly, but she refused to show him that. He noticed that she still had his black flower in her hair.

"The Fields," he drawled at the ghost, who bowed and vanished.

"Will she be alright?" Molly asked, staring at the spot where the girl had been.

"Yes of course," he said distractedly. "She had been exceptionally good during her short life."

"That's nice," she said, fiddling with her hair in a manner he found surprisingly endearingly. He waved the thought away in disgust.

"I will…just be going then," she trailed off when he neither spoke nor moved.

"I will be taking you back to your mother now," he spoke quickly, finding it difficult to speak as seconds passed. Her head snapped up, and she focused her steady gaze on him.

"What, what changed your mind?"

"A friend," he replied. He did not want to give a straight answer. He did not want to talk to her anymore, he needed her gone. He could feel the walls of his world crumbling, if he did not pour himself into his work soon, the Underworld would fall.

"You don't have friends," she said.

"I have one," he snapped, feeling inordinately proud to prove her wrong. He extended an arm to her. "Come along, then."

She looked at him warily.

"I will not hurt you."

She tentatively took his arm, and a spark travelled through both of them. Both recoiled simultaneously.

"Forgive me," he said quickly, "Sometimes, my power gets away from me."

He could see that she did not believe that for one second, but she nodded anyway, and took him arm again. This time they ignored the spark that flared between them.

"May I keep the flower?" she said suddenly, and he looked at her curiously. "It's very different from any other flower I have seen," she explained. "I have been keeping it rejuvenated. Please, may I?"

"Black suits you," he said simply in reply, feeling his words stick to his throat.

"Do we not need the ferry?" she asked as she felt him pull on his reserves of power.

"Being the lord of the Underworld means I get to do what I want. One way journey, though, I'm afraid. I usually have no power left for a return journey. Taking two pushes even my own limits."

As the world glittered around them, and he pulled her closer to him, inhaling her sweet scent deeply, she said, "You will find someone, Sherlock. I have heard tales about you and the Goddess of Chaos. Maybe she will return-,"

"Or maybe," he chuckled darkly, as Olympus came glittering into view. "I will rule alone, with no one but a three-headed dog, who likes walking around in the least threatening form ever, as my companion."


A/N: Hello again. I was absolutely not sure about posting this chapter. To be honest, I was supposed to post this up two days ago. Then another fellow author posted a Hades/Persephone styled fic, and they brought up a point, that most Hades/Persephone styled fics (like mine) have dubcon\non-con elements, and Molly has no say in anything once Sherlock decides to make her his. I'm sorry if I have offended you or anyone out there. I just thought Hades, seeing as he was the Lord of the Dead, he would be dark. He isn't evil, but he isn't the hero type either. Mix that in with Sherlock, who has no respect nor does he understand sentiment, I figured this wouldn't be the type of story to be happy little bunnies.

I refuse to make this story fluffy as hell. Because the Hades/Persephone story was dark and deeply embroiled with dub-con elements, but I assure you I will give a warning if I DO post anything very mature, but as you can realize after reading this chapter, there might not be dub-con anymore. Don't hate me for writing this fic as it is. I know I sound whiny, and bitchy, but I really needed to get this out.

And I do appreciate anyone who takes the time to read, review, fav and follow my stories.

Anyway, thank you for your comments- MorbidByDefault, hihiyas, magicstrikes, Rocking the Redhead, Aditi, MadAsAHatterJayy, CreamCrop, Faye Kinitt, starshortcake, LaserGirl77, hipkarma, Empress of Verace, ShareBear the DeathBear, katdemon1895, Lono, Beth-TauriChick, patemalah21, ForeverACharmedOne, Ash, Darth Verity of Cybertron, Lady Krystalyn, Pixiesky and the guests.

Thank you to her Royal Majesty the Empress of Verace for clearing something up for me ;)

Lots of love to my darlings Tiffany and Novera. You rock, and thank you for the occasional kick in the pants.

Review?

Love,

Adi xoxo