Loki's head was spinning as he ran out of the room, into the maze of passages that made up the mansion.
He shook his head, Laufey's earlier words still ringing in his ears.
If you stay here long enough, your memories of the other dimension could start fading.
He ran through the passages, not sure where he was going, trying to dispel the voices in his head. Voices of people he was supposed to know — knowledge which he doubted more with every passing second.
What do you know about Frost Giants?
They're just myths.
He turned a corner, almost sliding to the ground with the momentum but just regaining his balance.
Other dimensions leave... scars.
The illusion of his suit faded away, revealing his muddy shirt and shorts — it had been costing him too much energy to keep it up, and the illusion was unnecessary now anyway.
Things are slightly different in this universe, so you have to double check all your facts. You can't take anything for granted, not even things you thought you knew about yourself.
He kept running, the speed at which his blood pumped through his veins stopping him from panicking.
You're not immortal, you know.
He stopped in front of the old wooden door.
He hadn't actively decided to come here, but at the same time he'd known that this was where he'd been headed all along.
The cellar.
If there was one thing that could truly tell Loki who he was now, it was the Casket of Ancient Winters.
He breathed in, pushing open the ancient door. It creaked so loudly that Loki cringed, but he forced it open anyway. There was nobody to be seen.
He left the door open, descending the stairs behind it slowly.
As if in a dream, he looked around. His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, and he instantly saw the similarities to Odin's vault back on Asgard. The Eternal Flame was there, represented by a single candle. Clearly fake. The Tesseract, by a blue LEGO block, and a lot smaller than it should be. Then some sort of wooden carving of a ram's head, which was rather weakly done. And a golden glove of some sort, which wasn't too bad.
And then what he'd come for — the Casket of Ancient Winters.
If he'd started thinking that the Casket would be as fake as the rest of the relics, that thought was dispelled on sight. It sat majestically on its pedestal, giving off a soft blue glow. Perfect to the last detail; he could already feel its power just by looking at it.
So then why was he hesitating?
He closed his eyes, mentally going through what was about to happen. He was going to touch the Casket, his arms were going to turn blue, and then slowly the rest of him would turn blue too as he reverted to Frost Giant form. Simple, right?
For a moment he considered planning what he'd do if nothing happened, but to be honest he really didn't want to consider the possibility at all.
Loki took a deep breath, and, trembling slightly, reached out to grab the Casket of Ancient Winters.
His fingers felt the cool, rough surface, and he closed his eyes, half-expecting to hear Odin's voice behind him, telling him to stop, to let it go.
Instead, moments later, he heard Sherlock.
"Loki... what are you doing here?"
Loki almost dropped the Casket, but just managed to keep maintain his grip.
"It's... not important," he answered slowly, "just... don't come any closer."
He opened his eyes, seeing spirals of blue running up his arms. Thinner and paler in colour than he remembered, but at least they were there.
Although at the moment, he wasn't sure if he should be feeling relieved.
He put the Casket down, turning to face Sherlock with his hands behind his back as the blue drained away.
Sherlock frowned.
"If you've come to ask me to come back with you to the others, I'm not coming," Loki replied.
"That was an unnecessarily complex sentence," Sherlock answered, "and no, that's not why I'm here. Although you've been gone for over half an hour and Miss Hudson and Sif are no doubt getting worried."
"Then why are you here?" Loki enquired with a slight (admittedly adorable) frown.
"To ask you something."
Loki was on the verge of gesturing for him to go ahead, but then remembered why he was keeping his hands behind his back and nodded instead.
Sherlock hesitated.
"Go on."
"Well... I was wondering whether you had an at least semi-scientific explanation for Laufey's skin colour."
Loki snorted.
"That's what's bothering you? Go back to your Mind Palace mortal, you won't believe my answer anyway."
"I might not believe it, but I at least want to have your opinion," Sherlock protested.
"Don't ask for the facts if you can't handle them," Loki snapped, turning back to the Casket.
"Loki, please."
Loki scowled.
"It's because he's travelled to my dimension and spent too much time on the ice planet Jotunheim, and also because his alternate universe self is a Jotun. A Frost Giant."
Sherlock blinked.
"See, you don't believe me," Loki rolled his eyes, running his fingertips over the Casket once more.
"I... What is a Frost Giant?"
Afterwards, Loki would no doubt regret his next actions. All the possible outcomes flashed through his head within seconds as he tightened his grip on the Casket of Ancient Winters. He imagined Sherlock freaking out, he imagined being imprisoned, he imagined Odin banishing him somehow.
There's only one thing that seperates villains from super villains.
Presentation.
He turned around.
"This... is a Frost Giant."
He breathed raggedly as the blue spread up his arm gradually in thin spirals, reaching into his chest and touching his shoulders. The first time he'd experienced the Frost Giant's touch, his sleeves had disappeared as well because they'd essentially just been illusions. But this time he was wearing an actual t-shirt, which stayed intact, although it did frost over slightly.
Sherlock's mouth opened slightly as he tried to comprehend what was happening. Loki put the Casket down again, the blue draining away from his face and arms.
"That was pretty impressive," Sherlock noted, "I'm assuming you've been in contact with these... Frost Giants, then? Or can you make illusions of things you've never actually seen?"
"Sherlock," Loki sighed, "that wasn't an illusion. This is."
He gestured to himself vaguely, and Sherlock frowned.
"BY LAUFEY, HOW DENSE ARE YOU?" Loki hollered in frustration, "I'M a FROST GIANT, SHERLOCK. JUST HATE ME SO I KNOW WHAT TO DO!"
Sherlock blinked. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. For a moment he seemed like a fish on dry land, just opening and closing his mouth in confusion.
Loki turned away, running his fingers over the design on the Casket once more.
"I don't hate you, Loki."
Loki turned around, studying Sherlock for the tell-tale signs of a liar.
"I mean... it's weird... and I'm still not sure how much I believe, but..."
He took a step forwards, reaching out to touch Loki's blueish arm.
"Don't," Loki jerked his arm away, "touching Frost Giant skin is dangerous enough for Asgardians, and you're just a mortal."
Sherlock waited until the blue tinge disappeared off Loki's skin, and then awkwardly put his hand on his shoulder.
"Listen," he began, "I'm not good at... this sort of thing... and well, frankly you'd be better off with John in this case. But he's not here, so I'll try."
He took a deep breath.
"This isn't your fault, is it? I mean... that you're a Frost Giant. That's out of your control."
"Yes," Loki muttered.
"Then you can't blame yourself for it."
"You don't have to make me feel better, you know," Loki grumbled, "you should be working on getting back to John."
Sherlock opened his mouth, but was interrupted by his phone's ringtone.
Hey, I just met you,
And this is crazy,
But here's my number,
So call me maybe,
It's hard to look right,
at yo—
"Come on Moriarty," Sherlock grumbled, "Loki, if you don't mind..."
Loki gestured for him to go ahead, and Sherlock answered the call.
"What do you want?" he snapped, and Moriarty's laugh carried across the phone.
"Oh Sherlock..."
Sherlock put the phone on speaker, and Loki instantly recognized the voice as well.
"Sorry if I interrupted your kiss," Moriarty sneered, "I just needed to make sure you both hadn't committed suicide yet. Your little buddy would like to know if you're still alive, Lokester. He can't come to the phone because you'll recognize his voice."
"I'm alive," Loki growled, "and tell that coward to talk to me himself if he has the guts."
"Oh, he really can't," Moriarty apologized, "sorry. By the way Zhurlock, did you like my little prank call?"
"Oh, it was hilarious," Sherlock replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"And did you know that your surname in this universe is actually a mashup of some people here on Earth that look a lot like you two? And they're not even your other-universe counterparts, but just mortals that have been living here for years. British too. Just look it up — Cumberston."
"What do you want Moriarty?"
"Listen up boys," Moriarty switched over to a more serious tone, "the thing is... It's kinda boring without you here, so I thought I'd give you a tip on how to get back. You know, in a vague, sadistic kind of way."
"Go on."
"As you've probably figured out, the Bifrost isn't operational. That's because Buddy and I here stole the sword. You should've seen your brother this morning Frost-Flakes, he was so emotional when you called Heimdall."
Had that been earlier on the same day? It felt like weeks had passed since his failed attempt at calling on the Bifrost.
"In other words, you need to get back to your own universe in a different way. Now I've heard that on Jotunheim..."
"We're not going to Jotunheim!" Loki snapped.
"Whatever you say," Moriarty shrugged, "in that case, I'd better be off. Inter-dimensional calls cost extra, you know. I'll have John pay it for me. Bye!"
He hung up, and Sherlock tried to call him back.
The number you have dialled does not exist.
He sighed.
"You could've let him finish," he muttered to Loki, who shrugged.
"Would it really have helped?"
Sherlock's phone beeped as he received a text, and he frowned.
Hey SherLoki, here's your tip — the Caskets from both universes can interact. Why do you think I could call you now that you're so close to it?
-JM & F
"F?" Loki frowned at the text, "not... it couldn't be Frigga, could it?"
"Maybe just False or Fake," Sherlock shrugged, "more importantly, how would we connect those Caskets?"
"Falcon? No, he's mortal, and an Avenger on top of that. One of the few that doesn't have a grudge against me personally. F..."
"It could be Frodo for all I know," Sherlock answered, "Moriarty is the sort of person who would leave sadistic hints like that. Anyone particularly short you know?"
"Not really."
"Can we focus on the Caskets then?"
Loki sighed.
"I don't suppose we'll be continuing on the emotional moment we were having before Moriarty called?"
"No," Sherlock answered, "what emotional moment?"
Loki smirked.
"Good, I hate soppiness. Let's get to work."