XXIV

"Sherlock, quit messing with it!" Loki scolded for about the hundredth time as Sherlock scratched at the sling on his arm. The detective had been itching at the cast on his wrist for the entire cab ride, fussing about its hindrances. "The more you fiddle with it, the longer it will take to heal."

"It should have been healed by now."

"It would have been if you had actually gone to a healer rather than tried to self-diagnose."

"I'm not usually wrong!"

"You're not usually attacked by a god either, love. You may be a genius but you are not a medical professional." Loki had to turn his gaze out the cab window, seeing through the houses and people that passed by them. Although Sherlock had done his damnedest to deny it, Loki knew for a fact that he was responsible for Sherlock's broken wrist. He didn't remember much from that night two weeks ago but it didn't take much for the god to put two and two together. Especially with the dirty looks John had been giving him since the incident.

"Loki?" While he did hear Sherlock call his name, he remained lost in his thoughts. "Loki…? Loki Holmes!" That made him turn to the detective, a smirk forming on his face. "Stop beating yourself up. My wrist is fine." Of course, Loki wasn't listening to that.

"'Loki Holmes?'" Sherlock turned away, failing to hide his shy embarrassment. "You've never called me that before." Sherlock's cheeks began to blush cherry pink at that.

"Just… trying it out." The detective cleared his throat to compose himself, but the blush didn't fade. Loki found himself wondering just how his precious mortal managed to keep such a stoic reputation when the most innocent things made him blush. "I can't change my name for professional reasons of course, but… You-you don't have to change yours…" Sherlock would have continued to babble and stammer if Loki hadn't pressed a short but passionate kiss on his lips.

"I do not mind at all. It has… a nice ring to it." Sherlock smirked, but the deepening blush on his cheeks contradicted his typically stoic demeanor. "So…" With Sherlock's cute attempt to distract him from his melancholy a success, the Mischief God was able to remember the actual purpose for their travel. "Who exactly are we picking up?"

"A distant cousin of mine. She's studying at Oxford this fall and it's cheaper to stay with family rather than in a dorm."

"So she'll be staying with us."

"To finish her studies, yes."

"So why have I never heard of you having a cousin then?"

"We're a private family. And this particular cousin has spent most of her focus on her studies. Shakespeare… I think."

"You think?" Sherlock's blush had finally faded to baby pink before Loki's question made it flush red again. "What is this cousin's name?"

"C-Carter? Carter I think?"

"In other words, you do not know."

"Shut up."

"Do you actually know the person we're about to pick up?" Sherlock sighed.

"You caught me. We're heading to meet my new supervising officer because I've elected to join the ranks of the Strategic Homeland Intervention and Logistics Division and study alien artifacts other than your arse." A tense silence hung between them long enough to make Sherlock begin to panic. But then the god let out a loud – and somewhat obnoxious – guffaw.

"Or you're simply shite with names and refuse to admit it," he choked out between gasps. "You needn't worry, my handsome fool. Your secret is safe with me. And my arse is the only alien thing you ought to study."

"Oh piss off, E.T." Sherlock retorted as he nodded, diverting any nervous energy into scratching at the awkward and annoying cast on his wrist.

"Stop that!" Loki ordered, taking hold of the offending hand. "Let you hand have a chance to heal."

"Oh yes, dear." In truth, the detective just barely dodged a bullet just now. Everything Sherlock has said was actually true. Since finally agreeing to join SHIELD's ranks (more or less as a consultant), Director Coulson had assigned him his very own supervising officer to train him. And in fact, that was who they were picking up now. He wasn't quite sure how that flew over Loki's head. Surely, the god could tell that wasn't a lie. Surely, the god wasn't trying to lie to himself and simply deny it was happening. Loki was not that foolish…

"Is that her then?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"There at the café." Loki pointed out the window at a sitting outside a café, talking quite animatedly among themselves. Or rather, an extremely bubbly brunette – whom Sherlock recognized as one of Coulson's agents (What was her name? Sun? Cloud?) – was mostly using her hands to describe some concept to a young man – looked like Agent Fitz – and another young woman whose face was hidden beneath a bright red fedora. Late 40s style by the looks of it. Quite well kept, probably a family heirloom.

"Yes I do think it is. I recognize that hat. Stop here please." The pair had barely climbed out of the cab before the consulting detective was caught in a broken-wrist-crushing hug.

"Oh my GOD, Sherlock, it's been so long! How are you?!"

"Ow, ow, ow!"

"Oh! Sorry, sorry!" The hugger quickly jumped back as Loki quickly stepped between them, sending a wisp of green into his fiancé's wrist. As much as Sherlock griped about magic, sorcery was definitely a cheaper alternative to pain medication. Sherlock released a contented sigh as the cooling wave of magic washed away the burning throb in his wrist.

"It's fine. Really." But only because Loki magicked any pain away. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Depends on who you ask," was Fitz's rather sardonic answer which caused the agent who had pounced Sherlock to glare.

"Really, it wasn't that long. It was, what, ten minutes?"

"Forty five. You haven't stopped jabbering."

"Forty five minutes? We just got you text five minutes ago," Loki asked, quirking a eyebrow.

"He means since we got off the train," the red fedora answered, tilting upwards to reveal the young face underneath. Sherlock's own eyebrows took an upward lift. While he had expected his new S.O. to appear young enough to pass for a college student, he certainly didn't expect this teenager. The girl couldn't possibly have broken 20 yet. "Daisy seems to have turned into an expert on the U.K. overnight."

"Rather insulting really," was Fitz's again sardonic response. The Fedora girl smirked as Daisy scowled.

"Well, you weren't saying anything."

"She's going to be living here. Why should I?" Red Fedora gave Sherlock and Loki a look of 'Do you see what I've put up with?'

"As amusing as this – uh – discussion is," Loki interrupted, "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. It appears Sherlock is as terrible with his manners as he is with names." He held his hand out to Fedora girl, putting on his most flirtatious smile for the sole purpose of screwing with Sherlock. He knew Sherlock was lying to him about something in the cab. He just couldn't pin down what. "Loki Holmes."

"'Holmes?' Did I miss an event?"

"Merely road testing, darling. And you are?"

"Stark. Peggy Stark." Loki momentarily stiffened at the name. Surely, Sherlock wasn't actually related to the Man of Iron and didn't tell him.

"No relation to the famous Tony Stark I presume?" Sherlock asked, interrupting Loki's mini panic. Peggy gave Sherlock a knowing smile.

"You should know, Cousin." The detective merely cocked an eyebrow at that by smirked. The God of Mischief couldn't help but wonder if there was some inside joke he was missing. Even Peggy's companions had a mischievous secret glinting in their eyes.

Maybe it was just because of his own secret plans weighing heavily on his mind, but there was something about this trio that set off alarm bells in the back of his mind. It wasn't just Miss Stark's surname that made Loki nervous. This girl seemed to exude the same borderline arrogant confidence that Tony Stark did. And since she didn't directly answer Sherlock's question, he wasn't about to cross off the possibility like his fiancé undoubtedly did. Sherlock Holmes did tend to be quite thick for a genius.

"Do you need help with your bags, Miss Stark? I'm afraid my fiancé's a little useless for that right now," Loki offered, reaching for the bag at her feet. Before he could even touch the handle, she snatched it up, shouldering the bag.

"Actually, yes. Luckily, I've only got like two other bags or so. And please, call me Peggy."

"Peggy. My apologies." Well, that was technically a truth. Nicknames never counted as lies. Still, the Trickster got the distinct sense Peggy wasn't being completely truthful. It wasn't possibly SHIELD was still operating in secret was it? Loki certainly didn't put it past Fury to be alive somewhere. He pulled the same trick himself after all. He picked up the two suitcases that were handed towards him as a jingle rang from his pocket.

"That's your phone, beloved," Sherlock hissed as he reached for Peggy's last bag with his good arm. Clearly, the detective did not appreciate Loki's quip. "You should answer it. It's quite annoying."

"I'll answer it while I'm putting the bags away." Loki swiped the bag from Sherlock, ignoring the dagger glare being thrown at him. "Give you a chance to catch up with your family." Luckily for the god, Daisy quickly pounced on the chance, effectively distracting Sherlock from arguing with him.

Loki didn't pull the jingling phone out of his pocket until the luggage was safely tucked into the cab waiting patiently for them (Sherlock must have paid the cabbie extra to wait). However, there was no name attached to the number, setting off more alarms in the god's already screaming mind. "Hello?"

"Heelloo, handsome. How is my favorite god of mischief today?" Loki growled as he slammed the cab trunk shut.

"Are you out of your damned mind?! How did you even get this number?!" Moriarty tsked at the god.

"There's really no need to shout, Loki. I'm just right here. And I looked in the Yellow Pages, duh."

"Do not get smart with me, Mortal. Why the hell are you even calling me?"

"Can't I call to just say hi?" Loki growled again. "Touchy."

"I am with Sherlock right now. If you have something to say, make it quick or hang up."

"Relax. Sherlock doesn't even know I'm alive." He rolled his eyes. If he wasn't concerned for Sherlock's safety and retrieving the Stone, he would have eliminated this pest a while ago. "I just wanted to let you know we've pinned down the location of the Stone. Your information really sped up our search."

"Good."

"And I hear Sherlock has a relative moving in with you happy couple." The god stiffened but did not question how the mortal knew that.

"Yes. His young cousin is going to live with us while she attends school."

"Interesting. Is she a threat to our plans?" Moriarty asked the question very calmly but Loki was very experienced with loaded questions like this. The obvious answer was that he wasn't sure. He knew she wasn't simply a college student but he couldn't say exactly what she really was. Strangely, he somewhat hoped that Peggy was part of SHIELD. They could protect Sherlock if things did not go as planned.

"No. She is no threat."