It seems that the Tony/Loki disease has finally reached the Vegas area. I really shouldn't be starting this story, but my new best friend (lolololol) Maverik asked that I check out an LJ prompt she wrote. And, well, it was just too good to resist.


Sherlock Holmes is an unusually clever man, clever enough even to pique the interest of a certain Trickster God. Add in the dysfunctional family and antisocial behavior, and Loki and Sherlock are a match made in Heaven Asgard.

But Holmes is mortal and eventually dies. Loki misses him enough to ask Hela to bring him back, and she agrees to have his soul recycled reincarnated, but she won't tell Loki when or where.

And then one day, Loki fights the Avengers and meets Tony Stark, a genius mortal with a hero complex who happens to look and sound just like Sherlock.

Well, shit.

BONUS: Tony finds out somehow that he's Sherlock Holmes reincarnated and thinks that's the most awesome thing ever.
BONUS X10: The above happens and he starts using deductive reasoning to find out embarrassingly personal information about the other Avengers.
BONUS X100: Watson is reincarnated as either Steve or Pepper (or JARVIS)

P.S. The title is sort of inspired by the song All This Time by OneRepublic

Loki wasn't completely sure what he was doing in Midgard.

He remembered various bits and pieces of the previous hours. Shouting, glass breaking, a table or two being overturned. And a very, very upset Thor. Maybe that's why he came to Earth. To escape his brother's wrath. Loki had been on the receiving end of that wrath before, as a child. He was certain that he did not want to spend another week in the healing room. Why had my brother been so upset? Every time Loki tried to remember, the only thing that came out of it was a pounding headache.

So now, here he was, wandering around London aimlessly. What year is it? It's been much too long since he's last been to Midgard, and the Æsir's perception of time greatly differed from the mortals. He slowed as he passed a newsstand, and bent to look at the date. September the twenty-first, 1890? He straightened and looked around, eyebrows high in slight surprise. Hm, it has indeed been quite a while since he was last here.

"You plannin' on buyin' that paper, sir?" a young voice demanded in his direction, and Loki looked up at the dirty boy staring at him curiously.

"No, thank you," he said, smiling politely.

"Well, make sure ya come to this here stand if ya decide otherwise," the boy replied with a coy grin and Loki couldn't help but smile genuinely at the mischievous glint in the child's eyes. He could already see the boy cheating his employer out of his money.

"I think I will. Thank you, young lad." He reached forward to ruffle the boy's already unruly hair. The adolescent grinned and Loki continued on his way. As he brushed past a group of giggling women, he caught wind of their conversation.

"Did you hear about Sherlock Holmes? How he solved the newest case?" one asked and Loki's ears perked.

"'e's a genius, that 'olmes," another whispered in a rough voice. Loki stopped. A genius mortal? Well, I'll decide that for myself. He gently tapped one of the girls on the shoulder. She turned and blushed deeply at the handsome man in front of her. Loki had to bite back a grin. True, his unusual, handsome looks made him stand out considerably in a crowd. Mortal women flocked to him as much as they flocked to his brother.

"Excuse me miss," he said, folding his hands behind his back, "would you mind telling me where I could find Mister Sherlock Holmes?" She nodded, still flushed.

"Yessir. Mister 'olmes'll be at 221B Baker Street. It's just 'round the corner, at the upper end of the road." She then smiled. "You'll be able to tell from the line." He arched an elegant eyebrow.

"Thank you miss, you have been a large help." He took the woman's hand and gently kissed the knuckles. Her blush became deeper as her green eyes widened, and she giggled furiously.

"Anytime, sir." He turned and walked away, still able to hear their giggles as he turned the corner. Walking up the sidewalk, he glanced over the apartment names before he finally found 221B. He climbed the seventeen steps and knocked twice on the door.

It opened and a young girl peeked out from behind it. "Yessir? Can I help you?" Her voice was small and quiet, but Loki's enhanced senses allowed him to hear her perfectly.

"I'm here to see Mister Sherlock Holmes." The girl's eyes widened for a split second, and she nodded mutely.

"Of course, follow me," she practically whimpered. He studied her carefully as she closed the door. Mousy brown hair and a fragile build, with brown eyes that seemed to dart everywhere. The poor child was shaking harder than Thor when he's angry.

"Are you alright, my dear?" he asked softly as they approached the stairs. She nodded.

"Mhm. It's just…I'm not sure what sort of mood Mister Holmes is in today-" Suddenly, two loud gunshots rang out through the area. The maid jumped in surprise, her eyes wide. "Oh," she squeaked, "that sort of mood."

"Emilia," a firm voice said behind the pair and the maid, Emilia, shrieked softly, whipping around. Loki turned calmly to face a man of medium height with thinning, light brown hair and a mustache to rival Fandral's. "I didn't know we had guests." Emilia was visibly shaking now.

"M-my apologies, Mister Watson, sir. I just…he asked to see Mister Holmes and I hadn't thought to come and fetch you because I thought you were working…" The young girl was rambling by now, and the man, Watson, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Emilia, maybe you should take the rest of the day off. You seem very out of sorts." Emilia looked at him warily. "I insist." Finally, she let a weak smile curve her chapped lips.

"Thank you sir, I'll work extra hard tomorrow, I promise." She was then gone from the apartment before Watson could say "you're welcome". He turned to Loki, who was watching the exchange in bemusement.

"You're here to see Holmes?" Loki nodded mutely. "I'll lead you to him, I need to have a talk with him anyway." Watson started up the stairs before turning and holding out his hand. "Dr. John Watson. Detective Holmes' assistant of sorts."

"It's a pleasure, I'm…" He trailed. He couldn't go by his Æsir name; that would be far too odd for this era. "Lucas. Lucas Owens." Watson nodded, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Follow me Mister Owens." Loki walked with Watson up the stairs and to the first door on the left, raising his cane to knock on the door. There was a gunshot in response. "Holmes, open the door!" Another gunshot. Watson mumbled under his breath, shooting Loki an apologetic look before shoving open the door with a grunt. The room was pitch black, save for the light that peeked in the crack of the now open door.

"Close the door, Watson!" a gruff, deep voice demanded and Loki could see Watson rolling his eyes. He watched as Watson stumbled through the room before throwing open the curtains. Loki blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light after having stared into darkness for so long. A man was sprawled on the rug, his arm covering his eyes. He caught a whiff of the room and resisted a gag. Valhalla, when was the last time this man bathed?

"Honestly, Holmes, when was the last time you bathed?" Watson muttered and Loki looked at him in surprise. He noticed and smiled sheepishly. "Please forgive my colleague, Mister Owens. I can assure you he isn't always like this."

"Yes I am," Holmes muttered, and then sat up to observe their new guest. Loki looked him over, keeping his expression less than interested. Unruly brown hair with dark, wild eyes and rugged features. They held eye contact until Holmes blinked and looked over to Watson. "Watson, who is this?"

"Our guest," the doctor replied. "He asked for you, so please be kind." Holmes looked over at Loki, observing him. The Trickster suddenly felt very exposed, and just slightly straightened his posture. Holmes then smirked and looked over at Watson. "I also need to talk to you about your target practice. You're scaring Emilia out of her wits."

"Maybe you shouldn't hire such skittish house maids," Holmes muttered and Loki could practically see the steam coming out of Watson's ears.

"She wouldn't be so skittish if you acted like a normal human being for once in your life." Holmes rolled his eyes.

"Thank you Watson, for leading our guest here. I'm sure I can manage quite well on my own from here." Watson's eyes darted between them before resting on Loki.

"I'll be fine, don't fret," he assured the man. The doctor paused for a moment before nodding a little and exiting the room. Once the door closed, Holmes was on his feet.

"Please, have a seat." Now that the door was closed, Loki felt the room become rather stuffy. "The coat hanger is next to the door." He nodded and shed his coat, hanging it there with his hat. Loki then proceeded to have a seat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. "Do you have a case you'd like to discuss?" Loki pursed his lips and smiled a little.

"To be honest, I only came to see if you were as much a genius as everyone continues to say. I'm hoping that looks are as deceiving as I've heard," he added, looking pointedly at his stained and dusty clothes and unbathed skin. Holmes was looking at him oddly. "Why on Earth are you looking at me like that?" He didn't like the intense look in the man's eyes. It was making him fidget. Either something was terribly wrong with Holmes or Loki, because Loki never fidgets.

"And why," Holmes drawled, "are you so interested in if I am a genius or not?"

"Because I happen to be quite the genius myself." Holmes' eyebrows rose at that, and the detective nodded.

"It would be logical. A man of such wealthy bloodline would have a more-than-decent education, one would hope." Loki stared at him in mild surprise. "Your jacket. It's made of pure sheep's wool with a custom fit, judging from how well it had fit you. Also, your shoes are shined to perfection and made of rich leather." Loki arched an eyebrow.

"Is that why everyone believes you're such a genius? The mere fact that you're extremely observant?" Holmes looked up, and Loki could see something flicker in his eyes for a moment.

"Are you saying that I'm not a genius?" Loki smirked and leaned back against the couch.

"Anyone can use deduction, Mister Holmes. Watch, I'll use it right now." Loki let his eyes flicker around the room, making a note of obvious and subtle things that might help him, then looking over Holmes. "You aren't a very hygienic man, which I'm sure is obvious to anyone with two brain cells to rub together," Holmes narrowed his eyes, "you seem completely honest, judging from how you openly said in front of a stranger how this," he gestured at Holmes unbathed body, "is normal. You have a problem with women, considering how you tensed when Emilia was mentioned. That or you just have a problem with young girls named Emilia." The sarcasm in Loki's voice made Holmes resist glaring at him. "You're a smoker and occasional drug user, judging from the various, consistent scents that my nose is picking up." Loki clicked his tongue. "Very bad habits." Holmes crossed his arms over his chest, the same intense look in his eyes from before.

Then, he smiled.

That alone sent Loki's mind reeling. What on Asgard is this man smiling about? Have I said something amusing?

"Do you live in London?" Holmes suddenly asked and Loki was slightly rattled by the question.


"How long will you be here?" Loki straightened. Where was he going with this?

"I'm not completely sure, to be honest," he admitted. Thor's fits could last for hours, days on Midgard. Who knows how long until Sif or one of the others would return for him?

"Would you like to join me for tea tomorrow?" Loki tilted his head to the side. "I feel as if you and I could make quite stimulating conversation. More stimulating than mine and Watson's conversations, anyway." After a moment of contemplation, Loki lifted a single shoulder in a half shrug.

"Why not? I'm sure I'll be able to stop by sometime tomorrow." Glancing at a watch that suddenly appeared on his wrist, Loki stood from his seat. "I'm afraid I must be off. If I do not arrive here by nightfall tomorrow, than I have returned to my home." His long strides brought him to the coat hanger in no time and he pulled on his coat, tucking his hat under his arm. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mister Holmes."

"And you as well, Mister Owens," he replied in his gruff voice and Loki nodded politely before opening the door and striding from the room. He suddenly felt very cold and free, like a feather on the breeze. I must have become used to the stuffiness of Holmes' room, he assured himself as he walked into the London smog. Yes, that's it.

Still, he felt empty and frazzled and could barely manage to charm the innkeeper into giving him a free room. When he finally collapsed on the bed, he discovered that he couldn't get an intense, dark-eyed gaze from his head.