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John woke up with his head full of confusing thoughts. By noon, most of them had been replaced with a new one: nothing had changed, really.
Sherlock was a Greek god, yes. That was still insane. But Sherlock had never been exactly conventional, so in a sense this was just Sherlock being abnormal in yet another way. John could adjust to that. Honestly. Gods being real and alive, that’s crazy. Sherlock being one of them, that’s almost expected.
But waking up in Sherlock’s bed, now that was unexpected. That did change some things. Or, rather, it should have changed things. In reality, John woke up alone, just like any other morning, went to the bathroom, did what he did any other day, and made breakfast for two while Sherlock worked on an experiment involving old shoe soles, acetic acid and a rubber ball. It honestly felt as if nothing had changed.
At least it did until the doorbell rang, and Sherlock left his experiment to open the door. When he came back upstairs, it was with Molly in tow. She looked rather self-conscious, but then again, she usually did when Sherlock was nearby.
"I asked Molly to come," Sherlock said rather formally while taking her coat - which was kind of weird, John thought. Since when was Sherlock this gallant? "As she is one of the few people who know about this."
"You knew?" John blurted out, looking at Molly as if seeing her for the very first time. "Since when?"
"Knew what?" Molly answered bewildered.
"About - about Sherlock being a bloody god!"
"Oh, that," she said, just as if he were talking about something ordinary and boring like the sad, rainy weather, or a traffic jam, or maybe the corpse of an old, wrinkly woman dying of natural causes. "I guess I realized the first time I met him."
John was concentrating very hard not to be gaping. "But how?"
"Hardly a difficult deduction to make," murmured Sherlock.
"Not helping," John said, glaring at him. "Molly?"
Molly shrugged. "Well, he does look like a Greek god, doesn't he? You know, with the hair, and the cheekbones, and everything."
Sherlock appeared to be sniggering.
"So you just looked at him, and thought wow, he looks like Ares?" John asked, wondering if Molly was either the Oracle of Delphi, a genius or insane. Or maybe he needed to consider the possibility that he was even more insane that he already knew he was. He had moved in with Sherlock voluntarily, after all. Which was hardly a sane decision, even without knowing about the Greek god-thing.
"Oh, no, his looks merely told me that he was a Greek god. I thought he might be Apollo at first - no offence, Sherlock."
"None taken," Sherlock answered, glancing at his violin.
"But it became obvious pretty soon that his interests didn't fit Apollo. The god of light, music and poetry would probably not spend quite that much time in a morgue. Death and violence are more Ares's style, you know?"
"Yes," John said slowly. "I can see that. And is this - him being a Greek god and all - is that why you - er - why you like him so much?"
"Oh, no. Or - maybe." Molly blushed. "It certainly doesn't hurt, though, does it?"
Given how Sherlock had quite successfully seduced him less than an hour after he first found out, John couldn't honestly find it in himself to argue her point, even though something inside him really, really wanted to. "I suppose not."
"And Ares does have that bad boy-thing going for him that Apollo is sadly lacking."
John chose not to comment on that.
"But it's not like I'm worshipping him or anything. I don't really think he would like that. Would you, Sherlock?"
"Not at all," Sherlock said, obviously amused by the conversation, and Molly beamed at him.
"To be frank with you, I merely like to have something pretty to look at. Not much of that in the morgue. I've found that dead people are mostly ugly. Especially when they’re smashed up and bloody. Or partially decomposed. Not exactly pretty, if you know what I mean."
John knew exactly what she meant, but didn't really want to dwell too much upon what that might say about him.
"So obviously, I like having Sherlock around in the morgue," Molly concluded. "He is - well - he’s eye candy. Way sexier than most of the bodies I’m working with." She leaned conspiratorially towards John, and whispered just loud enough that John was sure Sherlock could hear every single syllable. "And isn't it kind of funny that Ares has such a lovely arse?"