Sherlock had absolutely no idea that the bald bastard at S.H.I.E.L.D.
had just shoved his name into something called the Avengers Initiative.
The moment his front door slammed shut, his expression darkened.
There was one very simple reason.
His peaceful life probably wasn’t going to stay peaceful much longer.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
liked to advertise itself as an official government organization, but anyone who’d seen the movies knew what the agency really was at this point in the timeline:
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division—now with a complimentary Hydra infestation.
If S.H.I.E.L.D.
had noticed Sherlock, then Hydra had almost certainly noticed him too.
That was the real reason he’d agreed to help rescue Tony Stark.
Sherlock needed to make a statement.
Not enough to reveal everything he could do.
Just enough to convince Hydra that coming after him would be catastrophically expensive.
Once they understood that, he could hopefully return to his preferred lifestyle of staying home, studying alchemy, and minding his own damn business.
And rescuing Tony was the perfect opportunity.
Low risk.
High reward.
Very little reason to refuse.
Of course, there was a difference between displaying strength and putting all his cards on the table.
Some things absolutely could not be exposed.
There was an enormous difference between a mysterious “mage” with supernatural abilities…
and an alchemist capable of mass-producing supernatural equipment that let ordinary people borrow superhuman power.
Which one would Hydra value more?
You’d have to be brain-dead not to know the answer.
Capitalists would trample over anything for a three-hundred-percent profit margin.
Expecting Hydra’s leadership to have better moral standards than ruthless businessmen seemed a little optimistic.
Frankly, if Sherlock hadn’t just repaired the Holy Lance of Longinus—and if the lance couldn’t conveniently disguise his alchemy as something resembling magic—there was no chance in hell he’d have accepted this mission.
As for whether part of him simply wanted an excuse to play around with his first divine artifact?
Sherlock would admit that was a factor.
A small factor.
Definitely not the main one.
Probably.
The more he thought about the chain of events, however, the more convinced he became that the Ancient One had played him.
Everything had started when that centuries-old fossil, after observing him for five years, suddenly delivered a damaged Holy Lance straight to his house.
Sherlock had repaired it.
The repair caused a massive supernatural light show.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
noticed.
And now Sherlock was being dragged into Tony Stark’s kidnapping.
Suspicious.
Extremely suspicious.
Sherlock’s expression soured.
He was only a few hundred months old!
A helpless baby!
And that several-hundred-year-old hag had manipulated him!
For one glorious moment, Sherlock seriously considered marching straight into Kamar-Taj and demanding answers.
Then common sense returned.
Picking a fight with the Ancient One on her home turf would be roughly equivalent to challenging the strongest martial arts master alive while armed with nothing but confidence.
Technically possible.
Practically suicidal.
Sherlock reluctantly abandoned the idea.
He was still thinking through how exactly he wanted to rescue Tony when his front door opened.
John and Helen walked straight inside.
Naturally.
Apparently doorbells were reserved exclusively for government agents. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Helen spotted Sherlock sitting at the dining table, staring silently at the news.
Concern immediately appeared on her face.
“Sherlock, what happened?”
She glanced toward the entrance.
“Who were those men in black?”
Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts.
Only then did he realize John and Helen had arrived.
Seeing the concern in their eyes, he didn’t bother hiding anything.
He explained the entire situation.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Tony Stark.
The glasses.
The investigation.
And his suspicion that things were about to become considerably less peaceful around here.
John took it reasonably well.
He’d spent most of his adult life buried neck-deep in the side of the world ordinary people never saw.
Secret organizations, corrupt institutions, assassins, criminal networks—none of it was particularly shocking to him.
Helen, on the other hand, was a civilian.
And when she finished hearing the story?
She exploded.
Especially when Sherlock mentioned that Coulson had, intentionally or not, brought Doro into the conversation as leverage.
Helen went from gentle housewife to enraged lioness in seconds.
Sherlock had absolutely no doubt that if Coulson returned right then, Helen would personally attempt to tear him apart with her bare hands.
John’s reaction was different.
His anger ran colder.
And once Sherlock explained that S.H.I.E.L.D.
had traced the glasses back to him—glasses Sherlock had originally made to help John—guilt crept into his expression.
John lowered his head.
“Sorry, Sherlock.”
His voice was unusually subdued.
“I brought this trouble to your door.”
Sherlock waved him off.
“Knock it off, Zhao Wick.”
John didn’t even react to the name this time.
“Honestly, I always knew something like this would happen eventually.”
Sherlock leaned back.
“I just didn’t expect it this soon.”
And that wasn’t merely something he was saying to make John feel better.
He’d transmigrated into the Marvel universe with genuine supernatural power.
Unless he’d spent the rest of his life refusing to use alchemy under any circumstances, discovery had always been inevitable.
Besides…
If his suspicion was right and the Holy Lance really was the catalyst that had set all this in motion, then perhaps this outcome was exactly what the Ancient One had intended.
She had the Time Stone.
If she’d deliberately chosen to hand him the lance after watching him for five years, there was a decent chance she’d already seen enough possible futures to decide this was the least terrible option.
Sherlock might have been willing to shrug that off.
John wasn’t.
Especially not when his own lost equipment had helped S.H.I.E.L.D.
find Sherlock in the first place.
He fell silent.
Thought for several moments.
Then abruptly raised his head.
Decision made.
“I’m going with you.”
Sherlock blinked.
“To the Middle East.”
John’s expression was firm.
“You helped me before.
We never made a blood oath or anything like that, but that doesn’t change the fact that I owe you.” Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Sherlock’s eyes nearly rolled out of his skull.
“Oh, give me a break.”
John frowned.
Sherlock gave him a look overflowing with disdain.
“The entire assassin underworld spends half its time hoping John Wick stays retired and the other half terrified that John Wick might stop being retired.”
He pointed at him.
“If you come stomping into the Middle East with me and get involved in this mess, getting back out could become a nightmare.”
John’s expression tightened slightly.
Sherlock continued.
“Especially because there’s a pretty good chance one of the High Table’s Elders is sitting in a desert somewhere over there.”
That got John’s full attention.
“You’re a living legend in their world, John.”
Sherlock shook his head.
“You show up in the Middle East.
In the desert.
Around the same time something big happens?”
“It won’t matter whether the Continental had anything to do with it.
People will start wondering.”
And once the High Table started wondering…
Things got complicated fast.
“You know better than I do how much of a pain in the ass an open contract from the Continental can become.”
Sherlock’s gaze shifted.
Past John.
Toward Helen.
She was holding Doro in her arms.
Sherlock didn’t need to say the rest aloud.
John understood immediately.
Whatever debt John thought he owed Sherlock wasn’t as important as the people waiting for him at home.
Helen mattered more.
Doro mattered more.
The people you loved mattered more.
Besides, Sherlock wasn’t exactly marching into a war against Thanos.
They were terrorists.
That was it.
Before repairing the Holy Lance, Sherlock might have exercised a little caution.
Now?
A thousand terrorists wouldn’t fundamentally change the equation.
There was no reason to drag John back into the world he’d fought so hard to leave.
Sherlock expected John to argue.
What he didn’t expect was for the strongest objection to come from Helen.
“No.”
Both men turned toward her.
Helen’s expression was completely serious.
“Sherlock, we’re friends.”
She tightened her arms slightly around Doro.
“And friends support each other when something happens, no matter what.”
Sherlock opened his mouth.
Helen didn’t give him the chance.
“Besides, this started because of something connected to John.”
Her voice remained gentle.
But there was steel beneath it.
“So whatever happens…”
She looked Sherlock directly in the eye.
“Please don’t refuse him.”
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