Sherloki'd ✓completed

Interrogation

"So tell me Loki," Odin began, "what in Asgard's name were you thinking when you decided to walk over a sheet of ice about as thick as a sheet of paper? You're not immune to cold you know; you're no Frost Giant."

Loki's cheeks went a hot red and he tried in vain to curb his feelings.

"But... I..." he stammered.

"Answer me with two words, Loki. Did you honestly think that ice would hold you?"

"No Allfather."

"Just Father will do, Loki. So you went on the ice knowing it wouldn't hold."

"No Father."

"You were found with Sherlock in the middle of the lake, and both of you had sunk through the ice. How else would you like to explain that?"

"I don't remember any of that," Loki replied.

"What is wrong with your memory? Have you been drinking?"

"No, you wouldn't let me."

After all, why would Odin waste wine on his prisoners?

"Damn right I wouldn't. Whose idea was it to go onto the ice?"

"Certainly not mine," Loki grumbled.

"So it was Sherlock's idea?"

Loki saw an opportunity and took it. He'd let Sher-whatsis handle this one.

"Yes Father."

Odin paused, studying Loki thoughtfully.

"All right then. Call in Sherlock."

Loki inwardly sighed, turning to the door.

By the Norns, he hated being to submissive. But it was necessary that he stayed as low profile as possible until he figured out what in Jotunheim's name was going on.

"You're up," he said to Sherlock, unable to suppress a grin as Sherlock pulled a dubious face, and then strolled into the room.

"Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"Yes Father to you."

"But..." Sherlock began, stopping himself as he realized that this man was clearly convinced that Sherlock was his son. He did have a bit of a likeness to his real father, although the eyepatch and pirate-style clothing was certainly new. He seemed more like some kind of Norse God.

"Yes Father," Sherlock replied, resorting to the same submission technique as Loki. It wasn't part of his nature, but he could fake it for the length of one small lecture, right?

"Who's idea was it to go onto the ice?"

"Neither of ours, Father."

"Loki says that it was your idea to get onto the ice. Is that true?"

Sherlock glared at Loki, who grinned triumphantly. Sherlock searched his memory, but the last thing he remembered before waking up here was Moriarty in his living room.

"If was my idea, I certainly don't remember it."

Loki raised an eyebrow in interest. Had Sherlock overheard their earlier conversation, or was he really just as clueless as he was?

Odin's disapproving glare pierced into them.

"You two have obviously made some sort of agreement not to speak. You don't have to tell me anything if you are so desperate, but I will let Frigga interrogate you both. For now, you are excused. No supper tonight as punishment, understood?"

"Yes Father," they chorused obediently, Loki almost gagging at the words.

"You may leave."

They turned around simultaneously, striding out of the room as quickly as they could manage without running.

They stopped outside Odin's office, closing the door behind them.

"Well that was overly awkward," Sherlock stated, and Loki raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that?"

"You told him the ice was my idea!" Sherlock accused, and Loki shrugged.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Sherlock opened his mouth, trying to come up with some sort of bluff. He closed his mouth and instead analyzed Loki.

Blue — no green — or was it blue? Green. Green eyes. Sleek black hair reaching down to his shoulders, and almost royal leather attire. Pale complexion — not much exposure to sun or otherwise an inability to handle it. That was the basics. Then the details — all the obvious signs of a bad childhood, probably a lot of lies, judging by his posture and defiant look. A stern father figure, that much was clear from the way that pirate-guy spoke and moved.

The thrill of deduction took over, and Sherlock tried to map out Loki's life before him. Rich parents, good food, an only child. That couldn't be right — he was obviously one of the four, so probably the oldest.

"No," Loki replied, and Sherlock realized he'd been talking out loud, "I'm not one of the four. You should know that, of all people."

"What makes you think I should know?" Sherlock enquired.

"Well, up until this point I assumed you were one of the four. But you're not either."

"No. No I'm not."

Loki snorted.

"That's just perfect. I suppose I'll have to ask Sif what in Jotunheim's name is going on here then."

"Your sister?" Sherlock enquired.

"Not my sister," Loki corrected, "she's just as my sister as Thor is my brother. Which is not at all, or by adoption at best. Now do you remember how to get back to that other room? I'm pretty sure there's a bed that has my name on it... literally. Although how they came up with that ridiculous surname I don't know. Cumberston? Oh please."

Both were under stress, completely disoriented and at least a little scared. Their reactions to it were next to opposite — Loki was nearly rambling, while Sherlock was next to speechless.

"This way," Sherlock muttered, turning around searching his Mind Palace for directions.

Loki followed him without hesitation.

He was determined to figure out what was going on, and who had done this to him, even if it was the last thing he did.