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Shervengers Chapter 6"JARVIS?" asked Bruce. No reply. The eight people suddenly flung into motion. Sherlock, Clint, and Natasha raced towards the scream, Loki dissapeared into thin air, or so it seemed to John. Pepper, Bruce, and John all ran towards where Tony and Steve had gone. Thor bolted off towards his room. John, Bruce, and Pepper checked the restrooms one by one. No Tony or Steve. In the bathroom below the dinner room, one of the faucets was running, but no people. John saw a small spatter of fresh blood on the floor. He pointed it out to Pepper. Bruce had stopped a while back in the hallway, motioning for them to keep going while he caught his breath. The door too the bathroom slammed shut, and John and Pepper heard a muffled banging. John ren to the door, but it was shut tight. Pepper sat on the edge of the bathtub. John placed his finger over his lips. John was checking the bathroom for anything that could be useful when the lights shut off. He reached in the dark for Pepper's hand. Far off, the
Hospital Visit (SherVengers Conclusion)"Dr. Watson?" A tall brunette scrub-clad woman in her mid-forties stepped into the waiting room. John stood up and motioned to her.
"How is he?"
"That's the strange thing..." She shook her head and trailed off.
"Will he be okay?"
"He's more than okay. Are you sure he was shot tonight?" The doctor squinted at her charts and at him.
"One hundred percent certain, why?" John tilted his head.
"The injury he sustained seems several months old." She shook her head as if to clear it. "I shouldn't be telling you this," she mumbled under her breath.
"Is he conscious?"
"Yes, but he's in shock."
"Can I- can I see him?"
"Are you a relative?" She was glaring now, as if angry that she couldn't figure out the injury.
"Then no. Visiting hours are week days: ten to three, and weekends: twelve to four."
"What if I..." She raised an eyebrow. "What if I'm....his boyfriend?" John mumbled. He felt more like he was asking himself than the doctor. She rolled her eyes and motioned for him to f
Thorki: Of Course Not"Brother." Thor's silhouette cast a large shadow in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed. "Are you conscious?"
"I am not your brother." Loki wasn't asleep, he almost never slept. "I wish to be in solitude at present."
"Can we discuss this capturing Midgard nonsense like adults?" Thor rolled his eyes. He flipped the light switch in the little hotel room, the dim yellow light making Loki flinch.
"Did you not hear me, cretin? I do not require company."
"It's been a year, Loki, and you still won't acknowledge the events of New York."
"There's nothing to acknowledge. Jotuns are killers. Your kind are saviors."
"My kind? Loki, we were brothers." Thor crossed the room, sitting on the unoccupied bed.
"A lie. A lie fabricated to overcome its god."
"We have nothing to connect us." With this, Thor jumped up, crossed to Loki's bed, and grabbed his thin shoulder, forcing him to face his former brother.
"We. Are. Brothers." Thor hissed. "We fed from the same breas
The Truth About Anthea((((A/N: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHEN THIS TAKES PLACE.))))
John Watson was getting a little sick of Mycroft's threats and mini-kidnapping. He had just recieved a phone call telling him to get in the car that waited outside the restaraunt, but he was determined to finish his sandwich first. Mycroft wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't dare risk his brother's anger. The sandwich was mediocre, the bread dry and the meat stringy. He finished up his dinner and paid the bill. He saw a big black car on the curb and stepped into it, not asking where he was headed. He took a minute to realise that there was nobody in the drivers seat. Anthea must be out for a smoke. When she returned, she drove off without a word, pretending not to notice John. But the woman who stepped into the car wasn't Anthea. She pulled into a driveway and then noticed John dozing in the back.
"John," greeted Mycroft.
"This better be worth it, Mycroft."
"You really should check the driver in the car before you get in."
The Visitor (SherVengers Chapter One)"Sherlock! Wake up, you've got a visitor!" John pelted his flatmate with pillows.
"M'up. Whayawant?" Sherlock had actually been sleeping as of late; he had finally admitted that he was smarter when he was well rested. John was annoyed by this latest round of boasting, but if it meant less crabiness, he would have been willing to pay just about anything.
"Visitor." John went back to the drawing room. A dapper man was sitting there on the couch, gazing restlessly out of the window. A beefy American bodyguard had told John that he would only speak to Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock came down the stairs, dressed only in the white sheet off of the bed. The man stood up respectfully, and John was surprised to see how short he was, as he gave off a very imposing air.
"Mr. Holmes," said the man, who was apparently American, too. "My name is Tony Stark. I hear you're the best detective in the world. American cops leave a lot to be desired."
"That's no different, then," John muttered under his breath.
Tony Plays Slender"BRUCE!! I'M BORED!!" Tony Stark's voice echoed through the room. Ever since he had moved in with his boyfriend, Bruce had played the part of entertainer, cook, and all-around caretaker for the spoiled, overgrown toddler that Tony was. He didn't mind. Having someone to care for again, having a reason to get up in the morning, filled him with warm happiness. The kind of giddiness that one associates with a schoolgirl spending time alone with her crush. Bruce poured some creamer into his coffee and walked over to Tony, who was draped lazily on the couch, upside-down.
"Careful, Tony, or all of your blood is gonna rush to your head." No reaction from Tony. "And you'll explode."
"Not until you find me something to doooooooooo."
"Wanna play a video game?"
"I've already beat every game we have."
"How 'bout a new game?"
Bruce grabbed a tablet lying on the nearest coffee table and went to a game review site. The first game he saw was 'Slender.' Is that some sort of weight loss game?<
The Stark Mansion (SherVengers Chapter Two)Five hours later the three men, along with Tony Stark's bodyguard Dan, who everyone kept calling Rob, were boarding a jet. It was a beautiful jet, of the ilk that Sherlock had had as a kid. Stark Industries was emblazoned in big black letters on the side of the jet. Sherlock questioned Tony for an little while longer, and then decided to switch to Rob/Dan.
"Did you know Peter?"
"No. I was hired after his disappearance."
"How well do you know Mr. Stark?"
"I just work for him. I'm unable to disclose any information withou-" This sounded rehearsed.
"If he finds out you've been hindering my investigation, how do you think he'd react?
Rob/Dan scratched his beefy arm.
"Please cooperate. What can you tell me about Mr. Stark's line of work?"
"Uh, he, uh..... makes money."
"Yes. Most do."
"Um, he takes calls sometimes....He talks about iron a lot."
"Was he close to Peter?"
"I dunno. I guess, but I wasn't hired until-"
"Yes, yes, I get it."
"Are there any discre
five.Five is the number of times you worry he’s stopped breathing, as the surgeons carve around his heart, twisting away the plaque ridden arteries, and pulling a vein out of his leg. Five is the number of heart wrenching hours you and your family were waiting in the hospital room, worried that your lives would crumble, that there would be five members of the family instead of six, that five days out of the week he would not come home for dinner, that five kisses from him would no longer be given to his wife and four children. Five was the amount of fingernails you bit off while watching people enter and exit the waiting room, and the amount of minutes your mother spent on the phone, explaining that something was wrong. Five is the critical difference between holding a father’s hand as your mother cries into his heart shaped pillow. The difference between rejoicing and smiling weakly because he’s okay or carrying your father’s American-flag-covered-casket and watchin
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