Thanks to my new beta, Seray for being so patient with me!
Everything around him had become dark. Whatever warmth the sun had provided, the shadows had suddenly destroyed.
Then, the feeling was gone. The sun warmed his skin once again. John was free of the odd sensation. He took a tentative step forward. Nothing was holding him back... except the feeling that whatever had held him captive was still there, lurking in the Armory.
Common sense dictated that he went straight to Chiron to tell him about the sensation he had just felt. But John thought that if he left now, all the clues would all be gone, and he might miss something important in the chaos that went on in his mind.
He looked over his shoulder, towards the cabins. They would all be awake now, the other demigods. He could hear their chatter in the distance. They were going to have breakfast in the dining pavilion. They wouldn't know what would happen to them, if anything even happened.
John took a deep breath and marched forward, right into the Armory. The door creaked open again. Once inside, John looked around for anything different- something that might have caused the him to lose control of his limbs. But there was nothing. As far as he could tell, it was exactly the same as he had left it before. John took another look around the Armory before turning back to go outside. But that's when the door shut right in his face.
John swallowed, and reached out for the door handle. He twisted it over and over again, but the door wouldn't budge. It was obvious that he was trapped. His instincts screamed at him to get a weapon of some sort.
As he crossed the room, the one source of light went out. John stood still, and waited for the unreliable bulb to flicker back on. When it did, there was one obvious difference from before; none of the weapons stood in their former places; they had all disappeared. Someone- or something had managed to make them disappear within a few seconds.
For a moment, he was tempted to call out, ask if anyone was there. But that never quite worked out well, did it?
The light went out again and this time John was ready and didn't move or make a sound. He listened for some sort of movement, or the sound of someone breathing, but there was nothing, just eerie expectant silence.
The light came on.
John was no longer alone in the armory.
A young man stood in the corner, looking somewhat amused. He looked about 5 years older than John, and he was dressed sharply in a suit. There was something in his eyes that John didn't trust even as he stood and surveyed him for the first time.
John thought about summoning his bow, but realised that it would do no good as the arrows and the quivers had disappeared along with the rest of the weapons. Still, the young man didn't exactly look like he could put up much of a fight. If he posed a threat, John reasoned that it wouldn't take much to take him down.
"I wouldn't try anything if I were you, Mr. Watson." The young man said. It took one long embarrassing moment for John to realise that he too was English. He had thought that most demigods were American, that Sherlock, Greg, and John were some sort of exception.
The man smiled, it wasn't a particularly friendly one. "I thought my display of power would have taught you not to attempt anything stupid, don't tell me that I'm wrong in this assumption." Oh, John did most certainly not like this one. He was itching to punch that look off of his face. Just who was this bloke?
"Please, why don't you sit down?" The young man gestured to somewhere behind John.
As John turned around, he saw shadows rise like smoke off of the ground, curling in small wisps, then growing into something bigger. After a moment or two, a dark wooden chair was formed. John turned back to the hawkish man. Like hell was he going to sit.
"What do you want?" He asked, surprised that his voice was steady. It was not as if the man before him didn't radiate power that resonated through each fibre of his composition.
The man lifted his eyebrows, but didn't seem all that surprised. Just even more amused.
"Aren't you tired from training? And putting away all that equipment? Really, you should sit down." The man said incessantly. To John's ears, it didn't sound much like a request at all.
"I don't want to sit down," John thought, by this point, that he might actually have a death wish. Where was all this rebellion and defiance coming from? Strangely enough, he believed he could get used to the alpha-like manner he was displaying.
The hawk-like eyes narrowed, and the young man took a few steps forward. John stood his ground, although he is thankful that the man didn't crowd his personal space. He was not quite sure how long this bit of bravery was going to last, but he hoped it wouldn't desert him when he needed it.
"I understand that you have met Sherlock Holmes." The man finally said, after looking at every inch of John and sized him up. It almost felt like he was uncovering every thought he ever had. Not once did John look away, he didn't feel he could afford to be intimidated by this man. Not if he was going to walk away from this confrontation whole.
"What about him?"
The young man laughed quietly. It's an unkind laugh, John realised, full of mockery and it made John dislike the man before him even more.
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a notebook. John can tell he was just pretending to read and John feels a surge of anger rise up through him, he wanted the man to say what he wanted to say and then to leave him the hell alone.
"You've been receiving messages haven't you? Ignoring them as well, I see."
"I have no idea what you're talking about?"
"Don't you?"
"No, I really don't." John countered. He was gritting his teeth. Messages? What messages? He'd been on the run for three weeks, who could he have been getting a message from? Unless... Unless he was talking about the nightmares. But those weren't real. Those were just nightmares. They didn't mean anything. This man had to have meant something else.
The look of confusion on his face must have shown, because the man started to smile again.
"Ah, you've figured it out, haven't you? It's about time, don't you think?" The man said smugly. John glared at him, as hard as he could. He was not going to confirm or deny anything- that would seem like surrender.
"This message of yours- listen to it again. As many times as you need to. But do hurry up, you're running on a bit of a schedule, or so I'm told."
Again, John said nothing.
"One last thing, Mr. Watson. Leave Sherlock Holmes out of it."
"I'm sorry, what?" John said, taken aback from the sudden turn of the conversation.
"I don't want him getting in any more trouble than he needs to be in. It would save me a lot of time..."
John narrowed his eyes.
"What do you care what happens to Sherlock, eh? I didn't see you out there, fighting the monsters along with him."
The young man obviously didn't like the way John was addressing him and frowned.
"That is of my own concern." He said, and snapped his notebook shut, then proceeded to tuck it back into his inside suit pocket.
"Are we done here?" John glared just as heatedly, his temper finally finding a way out.
"For now." The man began to take a few steps back into the corner, keeping his eye on John. "Do remember what I said, Mr. Watson. Keep Sherlock Holmes out of your mess." And then he melted into the shadows and the light above John flickered off.
When light covered the room once more, the weapons were back in place. John took a moment to gather his thoughts.
Who was that man? How could he possibly know about his nightmares? And did he want something with Sherlock? Was he a threat?
Whatever the case, he knew he needed to tell Sherlock about that man. (He would still be leaving his nightmares out of it, however, he still needed to figure out what those meant.)
Once out of the Armory, John started to speed walk towards what he hoped was the Dining Pavilion. It was a left right after the Armory, right? Something like that. Sherlock had to be there. That man wouldn't go after him, would he? In front of the whole camp? Just what was he capable of, anyway?
The chatter was getting louder, and thankfully, the pavilion wasn't that hard to find after all. All the demigods were gathered together.
Honestly, it was beautiful. The way the tables were set up, all lined up in rows. The sun was shining in through, making the vines hanging on the wooden structure shine. There was a great big fire pit in the middle of it all, the fire crackling and the wood at the edges smoldering. John thought that the smell of fire wood lingering with the scent of strawberries would smell horrible, but it didn't. It smelled a bit like home.
In front of the tables was a longer table, and on it were all sorts of foods. After all the exercise he did this morning, it looked and smelt better than it probably was.
John looked through the crowd of children and young adults, hoping to spot a head of dark curls. Much to his dismay, he couldn't find Sherlock. Of course he couldn't. That would have been too easy.
He ran through the pavilion, pushing his way past some people who were making their way back to their tables, some complaining when he bumped into them. Not everyone was a morning person, apparently.
Someone grabbed a hold of his arm and he nearly stumbled backwards.
"Watson, you okay? What happened?" It was Natalie. All of the Apollo children were sitting at the same table. John looked around, it seemed like all the siblings stuck together. Would've saved him some time if he knew that before but Sherlock didn't have any siblings that John knew of.
"I... Sorry, I can't- Where's Sherlock?" John asked. He thought about telling Natalie, but something didn't seem quite right about telling her. Looking up and across the pavilion, he saw Chiron. Maybe John ought to speak to him first.
No. He had to find Sherlock, make sure he was okay.
"Your roomie?" Natalie made a face, but then it slipped away, as if she had just remembered that John actually liked Sherlock. He would let it go just this once. "He's probably still in the Hades cabin. That kid never wakes up before noon."
John frowned.
"But I thought everyone had to come to breakfast."
"They do."
"...Right. Thanks, Natalie." John said. He turned to walk away. Trust Sherlock not to be normal regarding this as well.
"Hey, wait!"
John turned around again.
"You're going to miss breakfast, you know. There won't be anything for you to eat until one or two," She said with a concerned frown on between her eyes.
John sighed. It was not much of a choice, was it?
"I'm sorry, I've got to go speak to Sherlock about something," And he raced off without hearing what his sister has to say.
Sorry about the wait guys! Real life and laziness takes a heavy toll indeed. I wasn't exactly too happy about this one, but the muse demanded Mycroft. I hope you enjoyed it at least. I've rewritten this one about a thousand times!
