Stabbing Lessons

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"Why are you two so quiet?" Sif enquired, watching Sherlock and Loki hanging at the table, not even looking at one another.

Neither answered, and Sif sighed.

Mycroft watched them as well, looking disinterested, but in reality analyzing anything out of the ordinary. 

"I'm just tired, okay?" Loki replied. His voice was calm and seemingly exhausted, but there was enough ice in his eyes to rebuild Jotunheim with.

He needed to be alone. Alone, he would be able to figure it all out. Instead, he was forced to sit a stupid mortal dining table, and he wasn't even allowed to eat their stupid mortal food.

Sherlock thought about it much the same way. All he wanted was a couple of hours — maybe days, or weeks at most — to lock himself up in his Mind Palace.

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

Mycroft was trying to deducing what was up with him, he could feel it.

So be it. He won't find anything. There's nothing to find.

"You're confused," Mycroft noted.

I was wrong. There is something to find.

"It's nothing," Sherlock muttered.

There was a silence, each of them the embodiment of a different expression. Mycroft was disbelief, Sif pity, Loki exhaustion, Sherlock annoyance and Odin as uncaring as strictly possible. Frigga, falling into the background because she wasn't even sitting at the table, was the perfect blend of humble and proud.

It was Odin who broke the silence.

"I hear you are leaving us once more, Mycroft."

"Yes Father," Mycroft replied, visibly pleased with the change in topic, "just the usual. I'm still in the testing stage at MI6, but that probably won't change over the next short time. I need to build up a good reputation, and I am doing excellently so far, if I may say so myself."

Odin nodded to himself.

"You're sure you wouldn't like to take over the mansion later? If you're working at MI6 you won't exactly have the time, will you?"

Mycroft smiled.

"You might still need this mansion, Father, if you are going to get married again."

Odin frowned.

"I have no such plans! I'm married to my work, Mycroft, as you plan to be."

"Just keep telling yourself that," Sif smiled, glancing over Odin's shoulder at Frigga, who had a bemused smile on her face.

The rest of the meal was filled with small talk, and Sherlock and Loki maintained stubborn silence, only giving one word answers when strictly necessary.

And then came the moment when Odin finally excused them from the table, and Sherlock and Loki stormed off without another word.

"Remember you two, you're on duty to clear the table!" Odin bellowed down the passage, but they were already gone.

"I'll do it today," Mycroft offered, "I won't be here tomorrow when it's my turn anyway."

Odin reluctantly gave in, and Sif agreed to help.

"What's gotten into those two?" Odin muttered to himself, glancing down the passage.

Who knows, maybe he'd never find out.

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