Past
The two brothers, and the hero looked at the Monster of Earth, Demise. Minds racing, as the defeated beast died.
"Curse you, Prince Hylan, Prince Kyane, and hero! Curse you!" Demise yelled. "Hylan, Kyrane, I give you my power! Let this power corrupt, let the bond between you, break! Let you fight amongst yourselves, and act in my stead, for all eternity! The hero, be torn in two, between the ages! for all eternity.
So the curse of Demise said, and so eternity followed.
Modern Day, London
It was as if the walls of his Mind Place collapsed. To reveal itself as a mere room, inside a large palace.
A place that he knew, intimately. Yet a second before, he couldn't recall. Lifetime after lifetime, he had lived here, until it had become imprinted into his very soul. Through its various destructions and rebuilding. Growing up, and growing old.
Sometimes he had loved his family, until Demise's curse struck. Other times, not, but it was still his home. Especially the representation in his Mind, that was perfection, itself. That could not be recreated, through he had tried.
And now, a little representation of The Loft, on Baker Street, had taken over a room. A bedroom, that had been wholly forgotten, and ordinary, that it might as well had not existed. Only the fact that he knew it had been his bedroom, prevented erasure (and wasn't that a pleasant life, that he gained that wonderful word).
So much knowledge and wisdom, within these halls, with no end in sight. There was no need to erase anything, as this Mind Place was stored in the TriForce itself. Unlimited with wisdom imbued from Nayru herself. The Great Nayru, Sherlock mentally amended, with ultimate reference. Even as he did his best to staunch the flow of shadowed liquid from the fountain of Demise. It's curse slipping into the wood of the Loft, his current incarnation, in greater amounts than typical. No doubt a product of this life's 'family', which he should really destroy...later.
All that and more, flowed within seconds. The time it took to perform standard maintenance, a bit longer. However, he had long since mastered the ability to sort out eons, with minimal fuss, on demand.
Sherlock opened his eyes. Fully aware of his Brother, and Flatmates presence, and probable stares, and uncaring. The blue glow of Nayru's blessing was far more important. The single part of the TriForce, his part, glowing brightly, as he observed the hand mark.
Putting reference for the blessed artifact on hold, he observed the surrounding room.
The same ancient tunnels that they had been exploring before. Connected to the case, he and John had been working on, before his demented brother had invited himself. Before, the mystery had been so fascinating, but now that he had millennia of experience, it was rather dull.
Now, the tunnels rang of all the castle escapes, both necessary when Mycroft would try to assassinate him for the throne, or just when the castle had gotten dull. The little traces of Sheikah, hiding out of sight was so obvious, though he hadn't a clue of their presence before.
With a few gestures, he transformed his clothes into a suit and cape worthy of the Hylian Royal Family. If somewhat less remarkable than the extravagant garments Mycroft always favored, when he was Prince. A quick check of his powers, via creating a magic fireball on his palm, revealed everything was normal. More powered due to the curse of Demise being dominate, true, but Nayru was still the most ultimate of those above. Nothing like the pretentious pretender Din.
"Sherlock?!" John yelled, obvious concern coloring his tone, and body.
Sherlock smirked malevolently, at Watson. "Feelings again, Courage?" He rebuked lightly, with arrogance. Relishing at the hurt in Farore's Chosen.
Mycroft, watched this wearily. With a hint of worry Sherlock wouldn't have noticed before. "What happened, Sherlock?" He asked, unusually candid.
"Wouldn't you like to know, Power." Sherlock sneered. "Too bad you gave up that knowledge for a little might, Brother."
"What are you talking about?"
They could hardly know in their non-blessed state. Sherlock pitied them for it, including his former self, that did not know the Great Nayru, and all these millennia of memories and skills.
"Sheikah!" Sherlock yelled, knowing the faithful tribe would act accordingly.
Immediately, dozens of Sheikah jumped down, bowing infront of the former Prince. Waiting for his command.
"Subdue Courage and Power, please."