The feedback for Conviction has been, quite frankly, unexpected. So I must say thank you. A lot. To EVERYONE (Including my sister who saw me writing and offered a listening ear for the dialogue)

Special mention to my reviewers for (1) Making me smile like a complete loon when you got the not-so-hidden subtext and (2) Giving me the written feedback that I need. Honestly, it goes a long way in becoming a better writer.

"Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do."

― Apple Inc.

GERMANY

MIDGARD

Thor's not my brother, Loki repeated for what may have been the hundredth time since his fall. While his consciousness knew it was the truth, there was something about it that felt wrong.

There were many things one was capable of lying about. Matters of the heart were not one of them. So claimed the God of Lies himself.

Yes, Loki knew what it felt to irritate his older 'brother'. He was well aware of the excitement that accompanied doing something that Thor would've disapproved of, and letting slip what he did, just to see his expression.

He knew...

Loki narrowed his eyes, but lowered the scepter.

"I think I can relate to that," he said, and though Sherlock saw the small motion, the glimmer of a smile was too fast for him to decipher what he possibly meant.

It had been under ten minutes, and already the… man, if he were to think of him like that… before him was already proving to be as unreadable as a certain person back in London.

"So why are you here?" Sherlock asked, as he pressed the button to allow the elevator to continue its descent.

"You consider yourself a detective of sorts," Loki said as though he hadn't heard the question.

"I don't believe I…"

"You ask too many questions. You observe what many would overlook… You may be useful to have around," He added as an afterthought

"I don't work for anyone."

"Except the group known as MI7?" Loki's eyes flashed.

"They were my ticket here. I don't need them to continue, and if they think I'd be keeping in touch…"

"But you'd have to, else they'd think something is wrong. Then they'd send someone else."

"Why would they think something was wrong? I'm notorious for my tendency to avoid people who irritate me."

The Asgardian stared at him, deciding what to make of the man before him. He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Both men stepped out into the ballroom area.

"Three possible exits," Sherlock announced, "Without heavy security."

"Four," Loki corrected in an almost bored voice. "You missed the balcony."

"We can't get up there."

Loki let out a mirthless laugh. "You mean you can't get up there."

They strode into the party, without anyone so much so as batting an eyelid. "People see, but don't observe," Sherlock whispered to himself.

"Exactly," Loki said, picking him up on it, "And when you're planning to traipse… you called this place Europe?"

"Germany."

"Right, it's something you take advantage of. Amazing, isn't it?"

"Surprising. Are normal people usually this daft?" Sherlock wondered, "Even John isn't…"

"You should know far better than I." A pause, "Who's John?"

"A friend."

Loki smiled. "You have a weakness then."

"What?" Sherlock said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Do you normally talk this much? I always thought of criminal masterminds to sneak around the place without raising any suspicion to themselves."

"I am no common criminal. If I were, your life would've been cut short in the elevator."

"Ever heard of science fiction?"

"What? Are you going to continue to drop these..."

It's a genre of writing that my brother hates on principle. I used to read it on purpose," the curly dark-haired man shrugged, "You remind of a character right off the page."

Loki said nothing.

Their steps were synchronized as they made their way across the floor. The people around engaged in casual banter, occasional raucous laughter echoing across the hall.

But Sherlock, for once, did not bother to observe anyone but his temporary companion.

He understood why the Asgardian God wanted his company. He even agreed with it. But his demeanour troubled the consulting detective.

Loki seemed like the type to keep his most private thoughts locked up. And while Sherlock sometimes functioned on the same need-to-know basis, for someone who intended to rule the world, Loki wasn't doing a very good job at it.

It bothered him that the dark-haired man beside him was not predictable.

They reached the doors, and Loki pushed them open. The cold air bit at Sherlock's extremities and he held his hands close to his mouth to keep them warm.

Loki did nothing of the sort.

He stared down the street, then up, before descending the stairway to the sidewalk.

"Might I ask what you're planning to do?" Sherlock asked, his voice clipping slightly as his muscles spasmed with the temperature.

Loki silenced him with his hand, as he closed his eyes.

Minutes ticked on, taxis passed, invitees greeted the pair who, to them, seemed to avoid human contact.

"Where's England?" Loki asked at last.

"Where I'm from," Sherlock answered, irritation colouring his tone.

"Is it far?"

"Couple of hours."

"Good, I need to get there before SHIELD figures out what I'm up to."

He started down the road, but was stopped when Sherlock gripped his wrist.

"Listen to me."

"After that flimsy effort at stopping me? I could've broken your arm, by accident."

Sherlock shook his head, eyes narrowing. "You and I are very different."

"Said the sociopath."

"Can you stop it? Gods, I feel like John." He closed his eyes for a second. "You need my help, and I'm willing to come along. But I'm not in the habit of not knowing. I'm not in the habit of following. It's either you tell me now, or…"

"Or what?" Loki asked, smirking.

"Or… I let you be. You'd last a long time without detection, I'd give you that. But not as long as you would if I help you." He fixated his gaze on the Asgardian, whose bored expression had not changed. "So, I ask again, what are you doing?"

"I told you already. And you've heard, but not listened. Your world is in danger. I'm the only one who knows about it, and I'm the only one who can do something about it. And if I can get the Earth along the way, no one's complaining."

"Actually, I can think of a couple."

The Asgardian smiled.

"You're a bit of a psychopath, aren't you?" Sherlock asked, matter-of-factly.

"Crazy people get things done that others would be too scared to try. Think about yourself, Sherlock Holmes. If you weren't a sociopath, would you be here right now?"

He didn't answer, and neither did he have to.

"So England it is, then?" He said instead.

"Yes," Loki said with a nod. "We will need a flying craft?"

"Aeroplane," Sherlock corrected, "But if government agencies are looking for you?..."

"Government agencies?" Loki scoffed, "Who are they looking for? Loki of Asgard?" He laughed.

And before Sherlock's eyes, Loki transformed into a woman- long black hair, small built, gentle features, but with the same green eyes.

"You're… You're…" Was he, Sherlock Holmes, actually rendered speechless?

"I'm honoured," Loki said, with a grin, "But forgive me if this form makes you uncomfortable. It is preferable for Midgardian international travel. Many people would not think of looking for the Tesseract in the hands of a woman."

"Or maybe, not with a woman who looks like this," Sherlock said.

"Precisely. So… airport?"

"Airport. But what about…?"

"Documentation? I have it. No need to be unduly concerned. Keep in mind, Sherlock Holmes, while you may be the genius of Midgard, my name is known across realms. I don't neglect any fact, nor possibility."

"Never said that you did."

"But you were thinking it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. If this escapade didn't land him in prison for the next couple years, it would only be because Mycroft took pity on him.

How ironic.