As God Intended

Daddy's Got You

Carefully John entered into the little room, clicking on the lamp and making Sherlock's on looking eyes burn with the sudden illumination.
"He's fine." John announced, to which both men heaved a long though rather confused sigh of relief.
"Well...well the restrains should be gone." Sherlock pointed out, as if he was disappointed to see their master plan had not unfolded the way he had predicted.
"Doesn't mean he's going to rush up here to steal the baby. He's smarter than that, isn't he?" John commented in some protest. Sherlock sighed in some agreement, though he had to remember all the days that Victor had been in his current situation, tied in belts without any more restraints. Even back then he had only crept out once, what made it so certain that he would slip his bonds the moment he realized he had the opportunity to? Perhaps he was waiting on something else, another sign that his plan was falling into place? Sherlock drew his arms around himself nervously, staring at the little form of Hamish where he sat curled within the cradle, looking quiet and unbothered as he stared up at his supposed father through the darkness.
"Maybe that's not even his plan at all." Sherlock muttered, though he hardly dared to contemplate what could be up that demon's sleeve.
"Don't think like that, Sherlock. I'd like to imagine we're just one step ahead of him." John supposed, giving a little grin as he passed back through the nursery door, leaving the room open and the light on. Sherlock sighed in agreement, though he had a terribly uneasy feeling about the whole affair. Victor knew everything that went on in their minds, it would be perfectly impossible to trick him without split second, spur of the moment decisions. Certainly he saw this night coming, maybe even before Sherlock and John realized it was approaching! He knew what was expected of him, he knew that they were onto his little schemes. Perhaps such knowledge was enough to keep him away; perhaps Victor suddenly realized that he was going to be defeated?
"I'm going to run downstairs quick." John decided at last. "Wash my face off a little."
"John, no! Don't get separated, that's always how they die in the movies!" Sherlock protested with a little whine, stepping in an anxious little circle at the idea of being left alone in the balcony.
"What, you want to come and help me use the bathroom?" John chuckled. "We may be close, but I don't think we're there yet."
"No that's not..." Sherlock grumbled, figuring he was being silly about this whole business. It was just the darkness that had him on edge; all of these shadows were just twisting his brain into forming more ghastly images than was necessary. "Well just turn on the light, could you?"
"I can do that." John chuckled, turning away for a moment to find the light switch to the balcony. Suddenly the entire floor was illuminated, wiping the shadows from even the darkest corners and putting the priest's trembling heart back at ease. He was still rather uneasy, considering the church below was still just about as dark as the world outside the windows.
"Just give me five minutes; I'll be back before you knew I was gone." John assured, giving Sherlock a smile of reassurance and not allowing him another word in this one sided debate. Certainly John saw no problem in a simple bathroom break, and Sherlock had to convince himself that he wasn't troubled by it either. Though as John's feet descended the stairs Sherlock's heart dropped, and those footsteps that padded bare across the tile of the church left him feeling more alone than he had in a long while. Sherlock sighed, figuring he should distract himself with the buttons that were now disorganized across his chest, pulling and pushing until finally he looked at least presentable. The fabric was still wrinkled and his collar was nowhere to be seen, though at least he had covered the most essential parts of his white skin and hidden his body from the world once again. The priest shuttered, running his fingers through his hair and glancing again at the nursery, making sure Hamish's sleeping form was still undisturbed where it had last been settled. The world seemed quiet, unusually quiet. Unsettlingly so. Sherlock had rather expected Armageddon to arrive early the moment his virtue was shattered. The moment his lips met John's Heaven should have fallen, Hell should have opened up, his heart should have been smote by a wrathful God and his soul should have been cursed to damnation. That was what they spoke of in the seminary, that was what his father warned from a young age. To go against God was to curse yourself, and for the longest time Sherlock had lived in fear of stepping a toe out of line. Half the reason he became a priest was to please his God into tolerating the smallest and most unconscious sins of body and mind! Could it be that these stories were constructed not to warn children of the wrath of God, but instead to keep them on tight harnesses? Was it possible that the world was turning just as it had been before his chastity oath had been broken? Sherlock hovered back towards the window, the very same panes that had hosted John and Mary all those months ago now providing the backdrop for John and Sherlock's first moment together. Though this time when Sherlock peered out of the window he saw nothing except darkness, a fact that was perfectly expected considering the time of night. However that parking lot was familiar to the priest, having lived here for most of his adult life. He knew that lot just as well as he did in the daytime as he did at night, for his sight was usually aided by the street lights that were positioned on poles throughout the macadam. Tonight, however, they were dark. As if they had been tampered with...as if they had been drained.
"John?" Sherlock called out automatically, his panic mounting even though he didn't see a definite issue just yet. Certainly there could be a wiring malfunction; there could be some sort of short circuit in the city's power or something just as probable in the realms of possibility. Though in some ways Sherlock felt there was a more ghastly explanation, a more demonic one at that. For the only other time he had seen those lights off was when John had attended his business trip, a night when Mary had been alone and perhaps the only available moment for the demon to have been on the prowl. Could it be that Victor had loosed his bonds and was crawling about the church this very moment?
"John!" Sherlock called again, this time allowing more desperation to soak into his voice. He rushed into the nursery in some agitation, scooping Hamish up into his arms and cradling the baby against his beating heart. A part of him was expecting a fight out of Victor Trevor, for he had seen the way he ruthlessly fought against his father during his first arrival onto the church grounds. Could it be that this turned into less of a holy ritual and more of a skirmish, fighting over Hamish like a football instead of a child? Sherlock closed the nursery door and ushered Hamish outside onto the balcony, trying to keep them both protected within the sphere of light that was illuminating down from the lamps above.
"You called?" came John's familiar voice from below, the man's footsteps beginning their way back up the steps as Sherlock allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.
"The street lamps are out!" Sherlock insisted, rushing towards John's protecting form as soon as he appeared back upon solid ground. The man's eyebrows creased, though he didn't seem to be as concerned as Sherlock. Perhaps he didn't realize the significance of such an event, being as though he hadn't lived here long enough to appreciate their tenacity through most situations.
"Well that's a bit strange." He managed at last.
"The only other time they were off was when I think the demon broke loose. I think he drains them, or perhaps even extinguishes them for proper cover. He might be coming over here now." Sherlock hissed, cuddling Hamish even closer to him as if to emphasize the importance of keeping the baby safe.
"You think he'd be so obvious?" John presumed.
"I don't know enough about demons to give you a good answer." Sherlock admitted. "He's tricky, but he might not be as clever as he thinks."
"Alright...well then we'll get somewhere a bit safer than this." John suggested.
"Like a police station?" Sherlock wondered a bit hopefully, figuring they'd be better equipped to handle Victor Trevor if there were men with guns wandering about. John chuckled, shaking his head and settling his hands upon his hips in thought.
"No, I'm not sure we could explain the situation in a convincing way. I was thinking more like...like the basement?" John suggested.
"No, ew!" Sherlock shuttered. "There's only one light bulb there, and we know he's been down there before. Never go to the basement John, that's how they get you!"
"Nothing's getting us, Sherlock. Stop being so paranoid." John scolded. Sherlock sighed heavily, though finally he allowed himself to calm down a little. John was being perfectly rational, it seemed as though he was braver in this situation that anyone had a clear reason to be. Certainly he had to be a little bit afraid, if not for himself then for his baby at least?
"What about the office? Those windows have got the wire in them, and the door has a pretty good lock. That's where we kept the money, and so it's got better security than most places around here." Sherlock offered, remembering the days when Mrs. Turner their secretary used to sit behind that desk and type on those loud typewriter keys. Back when the church had been alive with music and prayer, back when it was a place for angels, not for demons. Back when his soul was untarnished.
"Yes, alright. Why don't you go and get Hamish's blanket and formula, I'll take him down and make sure the coast is clear." John suggested, holding out his hands to receive the baby. Sherlock nodded, not seeing any immediate issues with the plan. Certainly Hamish was safer with John, for the longer Sherlock held the subject of interest the more he felt like a damsel in distress. If Victor approached him the priest would have no method of defense, he was no better with fighting than he was with loving! He was just as inexperienced in both fields, just about as clueless as a priest was sworn to be. And so there was no better option than to hand the baby over into his father's hands, allowing Hamish to cuddle up against John's chest and coo with some relief.
"There you go Hamish. Daddy's got you." John chuckled, patting the baby's forehead while Sherlock gave a nod of agreement.
"I'll go and get his blankets then. We'll try to make him as comfortable as possible." Sherlock decided.
"Alright, I'll see you down there." John agreed, starting his way back down the steps while Sherlock went off towards the nursery, collecting Hamish's things into the large diaper bag that they used for trips to the park or to the grocery store. He knew it wouldn't be a long time barricaded within the office, though he might as well prepare for the worst. They would have to make it to at least sun up, and that was still a while off. Once the sun was shining he would feel safe enough to wander around his own church, though until then it was probably a good idea to stay where they were more or less fortified within the walls of the church. And so Sherlock collected a couple of bottles of formula, Hamish's blankets and stuffed animals, and a pacifier to calm his crying in case they were going to have to keep quiet and still. Finally the bag was packed and Sherlock scampered down the steps to meet John at their decided spot, moving quickly through the dark church and moving towards a light that was on in the back of the entrance hall, one that seemed to be streaming from the opened door of the bathroom. As Sherlock moved through the glass doors separating the church from the rest of the building he noticed that the office was as dark as he left it, the door seeming untouched and the lights obviously extinguished. The priest looked around for a moment, wondering if John had gotten caught up collecting snacks in the kitchen for their bunker. Yes, that must be it. Sherlock shouldered the bag a bit apprehensively, though despite his rather forceful optimism he couldn't help but feel a sharp shiver continuing down his spine. John had gotten a head start, what could be taking him so long? At long last Sherlock decided to check the office, moving towards the door and jiggling the doorknob. To his surprise the door was locked, as if it hadn't been touched or opened since the last time Mrs. Turner bid farewell to her working space. Then John had gotten the key, was that it? Sherlock nodded his head in some consolation, telling himself over and over again that there was a logical explanation for this, even if he wasn't entirely convinced. John was on his way, he had to be.