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They never speak of their fathers. Their real ones at least, the human ones that have taken on the role of father figure in their lives are common place. Joan is sure that Sherlock has figured out which deity is her father but she hasn’t quite figured out for sure which is his. Though she does have it narrowed down to the more obvious, Apollo but she also thinks he maybe his mother is the deity. She thinks perhaps he is the son of Athena, due to his abundance of knowledge and skill.
It isn’t until they’re chasing down a serial killer in a dark abandoned warehouse does Joan find out. They’ve got the killer cornered but with a knife in hand, he isn’t giving up. Sherlock raises his hand, palm up fingers open but tensed. His eyes are unblinking and his whole body rigid. The killer’s eyes widen with the look of unmasked fear, he’s staring into the shadows, he breathing on the verge of hyperventilating and then he’s on the ground curled up and shaking. Joan looks to Sherlock for an explanation but he’s already dialling Gregson. She turns to look around the area and spots a tiny body behind a pillar. She runs over and sees a small little girl tinted blue from asphyxiation.
Being the daughter of Asclepius she has an amazing ability to heal but also to resurrect those newly departed. She raises her hands above the child’s body but suddenly Sherlock is by her side with his hand on her forearm, shaking his head.
"My father won’t be pleased if you do this."
She understands immediately why the killer dropped as if from fear, Hades is Sherlock’s father. Sherlock has the ability to induce terror and is umbrakinetic: able to control shadows and darkness. Abilities that are powerful enough to scare even Zeus and Poseidon.
She swallows and realizes Hades, the God of the Underworld, hates when souls leave the Underworld after death. She remembers the story of what happened to her own father when he had done the same thing and how he faced the wrath of Hades and Zeus. Her face is tense as she looks Sherlock in the eye and tells him,
"I’m sorry, but this is my gift, she’s a 7 year old girl, she deserves to live."
Sherlock removes his hand as hers reposition themselves above the small body. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He knows that she’ll be in danger after she does this. His father does not take kindly to others transgressions against natural order. He looked at her and the little girl now slowly becoming more pink with every strengthening breath and the feeling of admiration passes threw him. He knows that when the time comes he will protect Joan from his father and his uncles. They are a team, complete opposites that counter each other, her light to his dark.
He smiles at the thought and catches her eye as she holds the now semi conscious girl.
"Asclepius. I had thought Apollo."
Joan looks up at him and lets out a slight chuckle.
"I had thought the same for you."