Sherlock Holmes studied the object in his hands carefully, examining it with every angle. It was a glowing blue cube, larger than his fist and covered in an intricately detailed language, one he had never seen before. This was different, interesting, something the great Sherlock had never encountered. And he relished every moment of it, scouring every source he could find in his mind and further, internet and library coming up with nothing. He had to understand the box, what was this thing that John had found, and what was its purpose?

"I told you Sherlock, it's nothing I've ever seen before, and I swear it's an alien."

As usual, John was sweet but incredibly stupid. He offered ludicrous explanations for something that Sherlock was sure could be easily explained. However, the man who had appeared in London around the same time as the cube did complicate his theory slightly. This man was a murderer, killing people randomly and violently, taking over the Tower of London with ridiculous speeches about kneeling and accepting him as their new king. Something told Sherlock that the two were linked.

A flash of green light interrupted Sherlock's thoughts of aliens and murders, and a thump told him that John had thrown himself to the ground in alarm, as if a bomb had gone off beside him. Sherlock remained at his chair, casually brushing off the bits of debris that had landed on his suit. A small chuckle from John told him that his theory of the link between the blue cube and the green man wasn't so stupid after all. They had a client.

"Overcompensating with the helmet a little, isn't he Sherlock?"

John grinned at Sherlock after his quick glance at the green cloaked man who now stood before him. His posture screamed royalty and while John was shocked by the sudden entrance of the man who had been terrorising London, his appearance made John want to giggle from the absurdity of it.

Sherlock did not look shocked, or interested in the slightest. His face remained glued to the microscope, which had nothing on it. Sherlock wanted to appear completely at ease, not threatened at all by the man who had murdered several people yesterday with his mysterious powers.

"Give me what I want, detective," Loki sneered the term. "I am not leaving without it and I believe you are no match for me. Why turn this into a bloodbath? I am Loki Odinson, heir to the throne of Asguard and you and your pathetic race will kneel at my feet."

Sherlock glanced sideways at Loki, taking in his appearance. The man was well shaven and tall, his flowing black hair slicked back fiercely. His green and gold suit was clean and his golden helmet looked exactly as John had said, much larger than required for a normal crown. He looked worn and tired, but determined to look the part, but the deep sunken pits of his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. This man had clearly gone through hell and back, why would he force an issue when he was not ready for it?

"Yes of course we will kneel, sounds very appealing, but I feel a bloodbath is exactly what you want. Something to appease the masses perhaps? Or maybe just to close that little hole left in that skinny chest after years of daddy issues?"

"Da..da..Daddy…issues?!"

Loki spluttered and spat the words in Sherlock's face, earning a smile from the detective who had hit the nail on the head. His smirk infuriated the demi-god, who raised his sceptre threateningly. Sherlock remained unfazed, unlike John who was looking back and forth between the two tall, black haired men in panic but interest on his place on the floor.

"Yes, daddy issues. I can tell by your words and stance. You crave attention, approval by those unknown to you, you take the Tower of London to assert your dominance over us, taking the biggest building. You demand obedience and offer nothing in return. You constantly remind us of your heritage, 'Odinson', child of a king, possibly an overshadowing brother as well. That tells me that you are inexperienced, this course of taking over London was not properly organised, you have no plans once you do take over, you simply wish to be acknowledged. You have little to no friends, you choose to be alone but only because you have no actual choice, which is why it is you and only you that has come here, no army to assist you. Am I right?"

Loki had continued to gap like a fish during Sherlock's rant, something John was very much used to seeing. His staff was still pointed at them and while John had immensely enjoyed watching the egotistical man get pulled down a notch or two, but remained cautious of the weapon.

Sherlock rose from his chair and started to circle Loki with his hands casually behind his back, the cube tucked carefully into the drawer at his desk. Loki glared at the man in the purple shirt, raising the tip of the sceptre slightly to place it against Sherlock's chest.

"You tell me, you insolent ant, why I should not crush you with my heel for speaking to me in such a way. I am Loki, of Asguar-"

"Yes, yes, we know. Asgaurd, king, kneeling. I think you'll notice that you repeat yourself quite a bit, unless that's a family trait."

Loki fumed and pressed the spear more forcefully against Sherlock's chest…