As God Intended

The Results of Demon Magic

Sherlock woke a couple of times in the night, occasionally finding himself alone upon the couch while John tended to the baby far off, where the child's crying could only be briefly heard throughout the echoing church. In these times of waking Sherlock merely rolled across the leather, struggling to keep his dreams at bay while waiting for John's comforting arms to come recollect him. It was not enough just to wait here, though exhaustion had set his limbs in concrete, making it almost impossible to get up even if he intended to. Occasionally John would return, setting Hamish down in a fresh diaper or with a bottle in his mouth on the opposite couch, speaking small words of assurance as he curled back into the couch with his priest. Other times the man would linger just outside of view, bouncing Hamish up and down in his arms with his own eyes sagging in exhaustion. For whatever reason he was refusing to let Sherlock help, as if John figured he was too emotionally compromised to be caring for the child right now. Sherlock was secretly grateful, for there was still a part of him that was terrified of the baby after what Father James had taught them. Though he worried for John, the man trying to take all of the nighttime shifts that had previously been shared between the trio. It was during one of John's absences that Sherlock began to hear commotion at the front door of the church, the clicking of keys and the creaking of hinges, sometime near the very first hours of morning. Since Sherlock was still half asleep he took these noises to be his imagination, dreams that were soaking into his nighttime reality, though in the dim light provided by the multicolored moon beams Sherlock was able to spot a figure crouching along the shadows, moving swiftly across the church as if not expecting to be confronted. At first Sherlock was too afraid to speak a word of protest, though his instincts began to kick in as the solitary intruder began to continue towards the balcony stairs, the very set that separated John and Hamish from the rest of the hostile world. Suddenly Sherlock clambered to his feet, calling out a noise of threat all the while fumbling for the switch on the lamp, his fingers grasping towards the chain and yanking to illuminate the room in a clear, revealing light. The trespasser coward back into the darkness, though Sherlock had just enough time to catch a good glimpse of who he was dealing with. His worst fears had settled back down where they began, as there was no demon lurking about, not even a priest come to finish what he started. In fact it was just a woman, gleaming with her blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail and her face pale from the surprise of being caught. After at least two days absence, Mary Watson looked no different than before.
"Mary?" Sherlock declared, almost surprised to see her return in such a criminal style, especially to her own home!
"Father Holmes I...I didn't expect you to be here." Mary muttered anxiously, her face beginning to flush as she looked back into his eyes. It took a moment to remember just what made the woman so uncomfortable, before at last Sherlock remembered her original accusation, one that had never been debunked within the woman's head. She was still under the impression that she was speaking to the father of her child, still with no understanding of demons and their proximity to her new home.
"I'm here for baby duty." Sherlock lied, figuring he ought to cover his tracks before the woman began suspecting the true reason for his lingering. What would she do if she came to suspect the conversation they had been having, what would she do to hear Sherlock's final declaration? No, even though the woman herself had willingly given up to the temptation of Sherlock Holmes (or so she thought) the very same actions would be inexcusable for her husband.
"Mary?" John's voice called from above, the man's head appearing over the balcony as he peered down into the circle of lamp light which illuminated his newly arrived wife.
"I'm just coming to pick some things up, I'll only be here for five minutes, I swear." Mary assured, holding up her hands in surrender and glancing up to her husband with a deeply apologetic glare.
"Mary, you can stay..."
"Alright then." John grumbled from above, interrupting Sherlock's offer before he could invite her to move back into her own home. Perhaps there was still a grudge held within John's heart, even after he determined Sherlock's innocence and the demon's plot. Was it not enough to be wrapped up in a hellish agenda, was that not excuse enough for her apparent disloyalty? For a moment John's footsteps could be heard descending the stairs, and when he appeared into the light he was still holding Hamish, whose eyes were now opened and looking around the church anxiously. When Mary spotted the child she held her fingers to her mouth, trying to contain a cry of emotion as she stepped forward quickly. Though with two steps she halted, still unsure whether she was allowed to approach.
"Can I hold him, for just a moment?" Mary whispered in an almost pitiful state. She looked perfectly desperate to touch her child again, a mother deprived of her must fundamental right. Though John remained quiet, staring upon Mary as if he hardly recognized her to be his own wife. For a frightening moment Sherlock thought John would refuse, as if he would turn the woman away with only her clothes and possessions, not even a glimpse of her newborn son. Thankfully this moment of silence was a stiff waiting period and before long, though wordlessly, John stepped towards Mary and handed Hamish off into her arms. The woman shuttered in emotion, smiling down upon her son and holding him tight to her chest. She looked rejuvenated, as if her hours of anxiety and exhaustion had washed right off of her shoulders and she was filled with a new life. Hamish brought her joy now more than ever, for what might have been a pitiful show of motherly depression finally turned into the desperate love of a mother who had finally admitted the truth. With the child's true origins revealed (at least in her own mind) the woman could finally begin to love her child for who he was, not for he was supposed to be.
"I've missed him so much." Mary whispered, holding back her tears and still managing a great playful smile to little Hamish. The baby giggled a little bit, waving his chunky arms around at his mother as she whimpered and coddled affectionately.
"Where are you staying, Mary?" Sherlock asked quickly, figuring this was a good time to trap the woman in conversation while she was perfectly content with her son. Mary hesitated, as if she had nearly forgotten what situation she had found herself in.
"My parents' house." Mary admitted, looking back towards John as if making sure she had permission to stay there.
"Do they know?" John wondered, crossing his arms and looking upon his wife with a sort of aggression that Sherlock had not expected. He was being rather strange about this whole situation, though Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what other option the man had. Demon or not, marriage vows had been broken and trust had been shattered completely. Was this enough to break their marriage, enough to keep the mother away from her child?
"They know we're having issues." Mary admitted at last. John nodded stiffly, though didn't speak to protest against such a foul word. Sherlock was silent, feeling like an unwanted onlooker to this private conversation, though he figured his presence was appreciated by both parties all the same. For Mary he would be the saving grace, the only reason John's voice was not raising into aggressive octaves. And for John, perhaps he was moral support. Perhaps he was standing there just to remind the man what he was fighting for, even if there seemed to be skewed intentions.
"John, John I know it was wrong, I know it was!" Mary exclaimed. "And I'm so sorry!"
"I don't want to hear about it." John said flatly, shaking his head and keeping his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, wishing he could clear himself of these foul accusations and be rid of this terrible stigma that had been following him like a smoke ever since Mary arrived. It was almost too embarrassing to look that woman in the eyes, especially knowing that she knew a little less than he did. She was staring at him, assuming that he had been so easily broken down. Perhaps she was staring at him and remembering how he had been that night, so different from the terrified priest who stood here now. Sherlock bit back his tongue, figuring that it was not his place to defend. If John wanted to speak of demons he would have done so already, and yet he stayed silent and waited for his wife to answer.
"It was in the middle of the night, I woke up and saw...and saw him standing near the balcony. I was still half asleep, it didn't mean anything!" Mary exclaimed, shuttering and hiding her face as well as she could with the baby in her arms, shielding herself by tucking her chin into her chest and squeezing her eyes shut tight.
"Mary, Mary you don't have to speak of it right now." Sherlock assured, stepping in to defend the poor woman as she spewed her nonsense. Considering there was an added layer of this story, one that even the woman accused was not yet aware, made most all of her excuses practically useless. Certainly the demon would not have left without getting what it came for; perhaps it even used a love spell of some sort? The woman didn't understand that these grim faces were not in response to her infidelity, no matter how upsetting the action had been. No, they were more concerned about what had come afterwards, and perhaps the motivations behind the act in the first place. Could it really be an antichrist cuddled within its clueless mother's arms?
"Come on, give me Hamish and get your things." John insisted, stepping forward and accepting the child back into his arms. Mary gave a sniffle of regret, though quickly she scampered up the stairs and was lost after a parade of hurried footsteps.