"The World Hates Me"

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A soft beep followed, and Sherlock held his breath when he heard John's voice.

"Hey Sherlock," John mumbled, "I know you're probably not listening to these, but I need you to come back."

"John?" Sherlock interrupted, "John, listen to me."

"Mycroft is genuinely concerned, you know. There's a bunch of cases he needs you to solve. And, well... I worry too."

"John!?! It's important!"

"I know you're probably off on some haywire case," John went on, undisturbed, and finally Sherlock realized that John couldn't hear him.

"John..."

"But could you at least leave a warning next time? It's sort of annoying when you run off like this.  Just... be safe, okay? Don't... don't get into too much trouble. Oh, why am I even bothering? You delete every text that starts with hi, why would you be listening to this? You know what, nevermind. This is hopeless."

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted, but the call ended as the connection broke.

He threw the phone across the room in a frustrated impulse, and it landed on Loki's bed.

Sherlock collapsed onto the covers.

"John..."

-

"That," Jim Moriarty grinned to himself as he ended the call, "was the best prank call EVER!" 

He tossed John's cellphone over his shoulder, where the Asgardian, complete with disguise, caught it.

"We'd better bring this back to its rightful owner," he replied, putting the phone into his pocket.

"We could," Jim shrugged, "or we could keep it for a reprise."

"There won't be a reprise," the Asgardian shook his head, "it costs too much energy to establish connection across dimensions. We were lucky it worked his time."

Jim shrugged.

"Then I guess we could just give it back. We could spray-paint it pink first."

The Asgardian sighed.

"If you enjoy such petty humour, go ahead."

"Oh come on," Jim grinned, "you know you enjoy it too."

"Okay I do," he admitted, "but if we overdo it we risk exposing ourselves."

There was a pause.

"Why don't we add a mysterious letter from 'Sherlock's kidnappers'?" the Asgardian suggested, "the classic 'leave 10K under the bridge or Sherlock dies'?"

"Now you're talking," Jim smirked, clapping the Asgardian on his back, "let's go."

-

Sherlock ate his breakfast slowly, glancing across at Loki, who was outright refusing to eat.

Sif sighed.

"Why are you two so depressed again today? You finally seemed to be getting better!"

Neither answered, because neither wanted to admit that they felt like they'd failed, again.

Frigga Hudson walked into the room, carrying a bowl of oats for Sif.

"Why aren't you eating, Loki?" she enquired patiently.

"Oats are for horses," Loki grumbled, resting his head on his arms.

Frigga sighed, putting down the bowl by Sif and walking up to him.

"You have to eat something," Sherlock answered, pointing at Loki with his spoon, "even if digestion does slow down the thinking process."

"Listen Loki," Frigga muttered softly, running her fingers through his slightly damp hair, "I know you're confused, and I'm not sure who to believe between you two and Sif and Mycroft either. But whatever it is that's bothering you, starving yourself won't help."

Sherlock glared sideways at Sif. She'd obviously told Miss Hudson what was happening at some point. Great, now their housekeeper  was involved in the situation too. 

"That doesn't change the fact that oats are for horses," Loki murmured through his sleeve.

"I can get you some toast instead, for this once," Frigga smiled, "unless you happen to think bread is for ducks?"

"Toast will do," Loki mumbled.

"Or you could starve yourself to death, I suppose," Frigga shrugged, stepping back.

"I said toast will do," Loki repeated, lifting his head off the table so he was easier to understand.

"I still didn't hear a please," Frigga prompted, "I may be your housekeeper, but that doesn't mean you can't be polite."

"Could I have some toast... please?" Loki forced the words out of his throat, and Frigga smirked.

"There you go, that wasn't so hard was it?"

"Yes it was," Loki replied, dropping his head onto his arms again.

"Whatever you say."


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