~*~So today (August 8) one year ago, this plotbunny was born. I sent a fic-sentence to Kat, she begged me for more, and six one-shots and five chapters later, here we are. I'm enjoying myself, how bout you?
Now comes the part we've all been waiting for: The Confrontation Between Loki and Sherlock. Damn both of them, they're hard to write. Also, miserable!Loki makes me happy.
Warnings: some squick, be warned.
Musical Muse: The Wizard of Oz, don't judge.
Disclaimer: I own a year-old plotbunny that's getting cake later, but not any cake-less fictional men.
Props to Kat, who helped breed this bunny and actually got this chapter back to me within reasonable time. Cake for her too.

~*~Illness~*~

Sounds drifted through Loki's ears, slowly forming themselves into recognizable voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying, exactly, but at the moment, that didn't matter. Loki was a bit more preoccupied with feeling as if he were going to die at any moment.

Tremors wracked his thin body, harsh shakes that came from his very core. He was horrifically cold, the coldest he'd been in a very long time, and yet was sweating hard enough to soak the fabric beneath his head. Nausea filled his torso and made his head ache as though Thor's hammer was pounding on it. He'd felt worse before, but only just, and that knowledge didn't make his current situation any better, because the last time he'd felt like his...he shivered again, trying not to remember that. Surely this wasn't more of the same, surely that would never happen again. Once was too much.

One of the half-familiar voices grew nearer, and a sensation of something moving over his forehead made him start. A slight weight was removed and replaced with something cold that barely made him feel better. More pressing was the knowledge that he wasn't alone, and someone was taking care of him.

Strangely enough, that did not make him feel any better. He instead felt unease, that whoever was around him in his weakened state would bring him harm. He wanted to get up, fight back, send away whoever was there, but even thinking about moving caused his stomach to cramp harshly. He wanted to relax into whatever soft surface he was lying on, but the shaking in his limbs was too strong for him to settle. He wanted rest, but he was in too much agony and too uneasy.

Whoever had put the cold fabric on his forehead moved away, and the part of his mind that wasn't screaming in agony identified the likely owner of the footsteps as the Pet Warrior of the Clever One. The kind lady who took him in had said he was a doctor, and he may act like one, but Loki knew better – once a warrior, always a warrior, and he could not be trusted. Neither could the Clever One – he was almost as dangerous as the Warrior, but in an entirely different way. He was far too observant. He saw too much. Loki wasn't safe with either of them.

Normally he would never have chosen their furniture to collapse upon, but the situation was entirely out of his hands. The lack of his magic, drained to near emptiness, had eaten away at him more than he'd like to admit. The aches and pains he had arrived with had intensified, and the dizzy spells and general unease grew stronger. Something was wrong, that much was clear, but he was unable to discern what it was before he found himself unable to think clearly at all.

At some point, as he lay on the bare mattress that was the only bit of furniture in the basement flat, a tremor attack shook him to his bones. He must have made a noise of some sort, because the kind lady rushed down to his side. After fussing over his prone form, she insisted on running upstairs for the healer.

That was the last thing Loki wished for. He did not trust the easy smiles and meaningless comments, for he could see the hard truth behind the soft exterior. At least the cold dark one was honest about his suspicions of Loki's true character. He could not trust the soldier-in-hiding. He would not have him near him if he were going to be unable to fight back. He'd rather leave the sanctuary of Madame Hudson's home than risk being uncovered by someone so dangerous.

He had made it to the entryway before collapsing into darkness – only to wake up in the den of the dangerous ones. He would do something about it, except at the moment his insides gave a very troubling quake. What he wouldn't give for a healing stone about now.

He tried to fight down the rush of bile he could feel climbing his throat, but his choked gagging was in vain. Seconds before he vomited, someone grabbed his head and held it up. Thankfully, something was there to catch the waste, but he had no time to appreciate it. Once he was done, shivers erupted all over his body, and he collapsed back onto the cushions. The one holding him up – the healer, it had to be the healer – released him and covered him with blankets. He was too tired to fight them off.

Shivers, aches, and tiredness were all Loki knew for the next several hours. Occasionally he was aware of someone coaxing strong tea past his lips, or concerned words spoken over his head. He tried to fight his fatigue away, to push himself back to consciousness, but he could not. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want anyone near him in his weakened state. He didn't trust anyone around him.

If his magic was at full strength, he could protect himself. This was the Tesseract's revenge, he was sure of it. She took his powers away, dumped him among enemies, and as a final stroke of revenge she crippled him to the point of helplessness. He was physically feeling the loss of her power, and he was paying dearly for disappointing her. He couldn't discern if the loss of his magic was due to her meddling or from his own weakness, but he was feeling that loss most keenly as well. He had always felt his own power, and without it, Loki felt as weak and helpless as a kitten. And he hated it.

After his most recent bout of vomiting, Loki felt barely well enough to actually take in and register his surroundings. He cracked his eyes open with effort, but his view of the room was hindered by the clever one who was sitting before him. Hunched forward, palms pressed together beneath his chin, he was staring at Loki with an unnervingly pierce gaze. Loki tried to glare back, but it was rather ineffective.

Sherlock, if that was honestly his name, glanced over his shoulder, presumably for the soldier-doctor. Not seeing him in sight, he turned back to Loki with a focused frown.

"You know, I consider myself an expert in recognizing withdrawal in its various states. While your symptoms are quite similar to hard drug usage, your increased state of weakness and the severity of your disorders indicate something different. That, as well as your most unusual behavior and overall countenance, leads me to believe you are in no way who you say you are."

Loki found himself unable to respond. It wasn't his weakness stopping him, it was mild shock and some horror. If this man was implying what he thought, then somehow he already knew, or at least suspected, part of Loki's true identity. To be certain, that was not a good thing. He tried to sit up, but the shakiness in his arms stopped him, so he settled for a glare of his own. Sherlock seemed unaffected.

"Logic would state that my suspicions, particularly the ones that imply a certain alienness about you, are unfounded and merely fictitious on my part, but given the rate of recurrence of these deductions, I am unusually inclined to believe them." Loki stayed absolutely still, the growing dread pinning him to the spot. It couldn't be...

"But that is not important right now." The too-observant man sat back quite suddenly. "What is important, to me, is that none of my other suspicions are true." There was now a slight edge of danger to his stature now, and Loki wondered if it would be better for him to swallow his pride and call for help, or if he should just hope whatever threat Sherlock would dish out would be verbal only. After the events of the previous week, he now knew not to underestimate the power of mortals.

"As long as I continue to believe that you're only residing in this flat to recuperate and seek refuge, you and I will have no problems. I won't be telling any official parties about your whereabouts, and won't go out of my way to drive you out." Loki thought this was rather fair, especially giving what he had overheard about this man's habits. And if he was willing to stay silent about Loki's whereabouts, that was all the more good. But surely there must be a catch...

Of course he was correct. His opposite's voice suddenly turned icy and his eyes turned hard. "However, should I no longer find sufficient evidence to support that theory, you will find me a very different human being." His face completely changed, into something Loki half-recognized. "If John – or Mrs. Hudson – comes to any harm because of you, you will find out exactly why you should not underestimate us."

Despite the concern (and perhaps some latent illness) growing in his chest, Loki felt a slight bit of approval. He knew a good threat when he heard one, and leaving the details of the infliction vague was a very effective design. Well, perhaps effective for the uninitiated, but Loki had been exposed to enough intimidation techniques to be unaffected by these empty words. He wasn't foolish enough to ignore the warning entirely, even if he knew little of what this man could do to him. It was nothing like previous warnings he had received, of what pains his failure would bring to him, but he was still warned enough. For now.

But, he had other concerns at the moment. It may have taken him some time to get his bearings, given the unexpectedness of the assault and his own illness, but he knew this game well. A weakness was exposed, and if there were something Loki could manipulate, he would naturally do so.

"Well, Mr. Holmes," Loki spoke quietly, with a bit of crack to his voice, but he knew, given the closeness and intense focus directed at him, that the detective could hear every word, "I had no idea you cared so much." He smiled quite charmingly at the Indigo Child. "Do be sure to let the Doctor know of your professional findings. I look forward to hearing what he thinks of the matter."

A frown appeared between the eyes of the mind. He had struck a delicate point. Would the Doctor believe the words of his friend, or disregard them for the sake logic? Also, what would the good soldier think of this pathetic attempt to protect him? Perhaps the Clever One wasn't as clever as he thought. He was clearly not at the level of dealing with gods.

"That's not your concern," was the weak reply. Loki internally smiled in success. That was a pathetic non-answer that did nothing to deter him. There would be no stopping Loki now.

He saw a physical stiffness come over dark man as he tried to reign himself back to the safety of his own mind. He could see everything this man tried to hide, as clear as day. Though it seemed, if he was capable of actually uncovering some of what Loki himself was hiding, he was not alone in observing what has supposed to be secreted away. In all, it seemed the clever one would be a worthy opponent after all.

One of the subjects of their little chat entered the room at that moment. Loki wondered if his arrival had been what prompted the other retreating into his shell again, but in any case, his appearance announced the end of their discussion. The Soldier-Doctor smiled at the unlikely pair, and remarked how pleased he was to see Loki awake. The Observant One might believe he needed protection, but Loki knew he needed no such thing.

Loki settled back, watching as Sherlock stood and began hovering around his flatmate in the kitchen. More observation was needed, to fully understand the dynamics of the pair. More weaknesses could be exposed. He still needed to recover the effects of the Tesseract's parting gift.

Oddly enough, he felt better than he had in days. The game was on.

~*~ What's gonna happen next?! Find out later!