The following day school started slightly later, as Chemistry had been unexpectedly cancelled.
Which resulted in Sherlock staying in bed, and Loki roaming the house. He'd already woken up early so Miss Hudson wouldn't have to wake him, and didn't feel like going to sleep again. He cleaned himself up in the bathroom, making use of the time he had by taking a lengthy shower and cleaning out his hair properly.
When he was fully dressed, he brushed his hair out under the mirror. Usually, he would just magically dry it and fix it up, but he was having increasingly much trouble using his abilities, and didn't want to waste energy on unnecessary things.
Loki squinted at the mirror. He could've sworn that his hair had gotten even shorter, but that was impossible. He shook off the thought. It probably looked shorter because it was wet.
Either way, he gave up trying to neaten his hair, and decided it'd have to dry by itself. He strode outside with an almost frustrated feel to his steps, of which even the echoes sounded hollow and angry.
He stepped into the garden, letting the early morning wind attack his face. His shirt flapped in the breeze, and Loki had to half-close his eyes to see through the force of the biting wind.
"HEIMDALL!" he shouted at the white puffs of cloud, not really expecting an answer.
Nothing.
"HEIMDALL?!"
Still nothing.
He sighed.
"I suppose you're of no use to me either. I thought as much."
-
"WHERE IS HE!?!?" Thor demanded, shaking Heimdall roughly.
"Thor," Frigga whispered calmly, "he doesn't know."
"He's Heimdall," Thor protested, "isn't he supposed to know everything? I need my brother back, before he tries to blow up another planet!"
"Loki knows how to hide himself from me," Heimdall replied, rubbing his neck where Thor had almost choked him earlier, "if he doesn't want to be found, we can't find him. And besides, until the sword is found..."
"HEIMDALL!"
The sound was faint, but loud enough for them all to be able to pinpoint where it was coming from. Thor turned his eyes to the pedestal in the middle of the Bifrost, which seemed bare without its sword.
"Loki!" he exclaimed, "See, he's not hiding!"
"We'll need the sword," Heimdall replied, and Thor's excitement disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"HEIMDALL?!"
"We'll find you Loki, I promise," Thor whispered.
A soft sigh carried through the pedestal, and for a moment is seemed as if Loki had heard them.
"Well, I suppose you're of no use to me either. I thought as much."
Thor turned away, and Frigga closed her eyes, biting her lip.
"I promise," Thor added under his breath.
-
Sherlock sat up in bed when his phone started ringing.
He groaned, ready to dismiss the call when he saw the name at the top of the screen.
John H. Watson
He picked up the phone quickly, accepting the call.
"You have reached my voicemail," he heard his own voice say, "that's because I never answer calls, just text you moron. If you must, leave a message after the beep."
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."