Leviticus 20:13

You Shouldn't Stray Far From The Light

Billy was off in the back making sure the candles were lit before the next mass and Mrs. Hudson was around in the pews arranging song books for the next batch of worshippers. There were a couple of people in the pews praying and what not; however there was only one man that concerned Sherlock at the moment. John was kneeling in the front pew, his rosary swinging around in his hands as his lips formed words unheard. Evidently he hadn't noticed Sherlock's presence or he would've picked up his head or ceased praying all together; however Sherlock thought it was polite to let him finish his prayers before he interrupted. So Sherlock lingered at the altar, arranging the cloth that draped over the table and poking at the flower pots with his feet to try to make them a bit more even. When he finally looked back at John the man had taken to his feet, shoving his rosary in his pocket and stumbling up to the altar where Sherlock stood.
"Mr. Watson, I didn't want to interrupt." Sherlock explained politely. John nodded, looking Sherlock up and down quickly before making it seem as if he were admiring the statue of Jesus on the cross immediately behind him. Sherlock felt flattered it not a little bit confused, however John already seemed awkward enough so he thought it better to pretend not to notice his little examination.
"No please, interrupt away, you're entitled to." John assured quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets before bringing them back again and then fidgeting with the buttons of the cuffs of his jacket. He seemed nervous, quite unnecessarily of course; however there seemed to be some sort of tension between them that Sherlock couldn't explain. Maybe John was just nervous to bring a new person to see his daughter, as if her condition was something of an embarrassment to him. Or maybe he just didn't want Sherlock to pity him anymore than he already did, or maybe he was simply nervous about being around Sherlock once more. It was obvious they hadn't gotten off on the best of starts, and maybe John was still rather uncomfortable in his presence.
"I'm ready if you are, but I must ask you Mr. Watson, is Rosie baptized?" Sherlock wondered curiously. John thought for a moment before nodding slowly, as if he was reluctant to answer because he didn't know.
"I think so...Mary wanted her to be when she was born and I briefly remember going to a church..." John muttered blankly. Sherlock simply laughed, although he saw nothing truly funny about the topic on hand. Surely the very idea of John's ex-wife wasn't a matter to be laughed about, and yet Sherlock found his confusion rather amusing.
"You don't sound too confident." Sherlock observed with a little bit of a smile.
"She was, she definitely was." John agreed, this time sounding a lot surer of himself. Sherlock nodded thankfully, he hated to baptize and if the subject was any older than a newborn it was even more inconvenient, all together that was one less thing he had to worry about.
"Well then we should be going, I'm sure Rosie is expecting us." Sherlock decided finally, however just as John was about to turn away the door opened and Greg came strolling out from the back room. He took one look at John and Sherlock, who of course were standing rather close, and cracked a bit of a knowing smile. Sherlock felt his cheeks flush in humiliation, knowing that Greg probably suspected that Sherlock had been prettying himself up just because of Mr. Watson, an accusation that was certainly false, and yet there was nothing to do to stop him now.
"Well hello again Father." Greg said with a little bit of a smile, walking towards the two with all the confidence in the world. John took a little step back, obviously recognizing Greg from mass and remembering all the bad things Sherlock had been telling him about his coworker.
"Father Lestrade this is John Watson, a parishioner here." Sherlock introduced politely, feeling the need to make a formal introduction to ease the tension.
"Hello Mr. Watson, I don't believe we've met before." Greg said with a smile, shaking John's hand like the false professional he was.
"No we haven't, however I have attended some of your masses before." John admitted obviously, and Greg just nodded, standing back and standing tall, smirking at Sherlock as if they shared some sort of inside joke.
"Well Father, while you're out maybe you'll want to stop for some..." Greg glanced at John quickly, "Burger King." Sherlock forced a smile while his eyes flashed dangerously, and he really resisted the urge to kick Greg in the kneecap. He knew the innuendo Greg was trying to hint at, his little fast food metaphor that they had discussed in the car, and Sherlock really didn't want to hear it, especially not now. Wonder if John somehow caught on, what if he started to suspect the worst?
"Oh I guarantee that's never going to happen. Have a nice night Father." Sherlock growled, bowing his head before taking John by the shoulder and steering him away from where Greg stood, still chuckling, on the altar.
"What was that about?" John wondered in a hushed voice as Sherlock led him down the aisle quickly.
"Oh nothing, just our dear old Greg being a moron." Sherlock muttered, making John laugh a little bit too obviously as they walked through the entrance hall and out the front doors.
"Would you like to take my car?" John asked, gesturing to a rather beat up looking red minivan that sat with the other cars in the parking lot.
"I think that would be best, if that's alright. We priests share a car, and Greg will most likely go out tonight." Sherlock decided rather hatefully.
"You don't seem to like Father Lestrade very much." John observed as they walked through the cracked and weed infested parking lot to get to John's minivan.
"Oh well we're very opposite. He's alright most of the times but he has his days when I think asphyxiating him would be less painful than hearing another word out of his mouth." Sherlock growled, getting unnecessarily angry for a split second before relaxing himself and patting down his curls anxiously.
"Charming." John commented with a little smile, and Sherlock ducked his head down in shame.
"Not that we're not friends, he's still better than Father Turner." Sherlock admitted.
"The old one?" John guessed accurately.
"That's him." Sherlock agreed nervously, looking around the parking lot to make sure Father Turner wasn't crouched behind the cars, overhearing their conversation. John unlocked the van and got inside, waiting until Sherlock got into the passenger seat and strapped in before turning on the engine. As soon as the radio turned on it began to blast some horrid eighties music from the speakers at a very loud volume, and John stuttered some excuses before quickly turning it off. Sherlock just chuckled, not quite knowing what to say. The car smelled like coffee and bacon grease, both scents probably owing to John's job at the diner, and yet there was something strangely cozy about it. Something told Sherlock that this would be a very pleasant drive. As with most car rides the first couple of miles was dedicated purely to small talk and awkward silences. John insisted Sherlock change the radio station to something he would enjoy (and Sherlock politely picked some sort of rock station so that John wouldn't have to listen to classical) and for the most part they both looked out the windows and listened to the music. Sherlock ran John through the process of the anointing of the sick for a moment, explaining about the oil and the ritual and the blessings. It wasn't a very vigorous process of course, but obviously it eased John's mind just to know that Rosie was going to have some sort of advantage over all the atheists who were trying to fight their way into Heaven.
"You're the first guest that's seen her in a while, other than me of course." John admitted almost shyly. Sherlock hummed in agreement, glancing over to John very quickly before focusing on the road ahead.
"And why would that be?" Sherlock wondered. John just shrugged, taking a deep breath and merging over into the left lane on the highway just for something to concentrate on other than talking.
"Oh you know, she's never really had the opportunity to make friends and we're a very lonely pair. My sister comes up sometimes but God knows where she is, probably wasted under a bridge or something." John admitted in a hateful tone, as if the very idea of his sister's bad habits nauseated him.
"Oh well that's...pleasant." Sherlock muttered reluctantly, obviously not knowing what to say to something like that. However John seemed rather careless, as if this was just an everyday topic of conversation.
"No Harry she's, well, she's a good person inside. She helped me get out of my little rut when Mary left, she dragged me back to reality kicking and screaming." John admitted with a little chuckle.
"Siblings have their perks I suppose." Sherlock agreed rather awkwardly.
"Do you have any siblings Father?" John wondered, looking over at Sherlock very quickly before looking back at the traffic, as if he thought he wasn't allowed to look at Sherlock or something. Sherlock simply frowned, wishing that John would stop calling him father and start calling him by his real name. Of course it wasn't meant to be an insult and by now it was probably just a force of habit, but somehow when John referred to him by his priestly name it almost made all of this feel a little bit wrong. As if a normal priest that was staying true to his oaths and profession wouldn't go all this way to help out a man such as John Watson.
"Yes I have a brother; however he lives quite a ways so I never see him much. I'm rather on my own." Sherlock admitted shyly.
"That makes two of us then." John agreed in a sort of mutter.
"Well when two lonely people interact they're not lonely anymore, are they?" Sherlock wondered, looking over at John with a little bit of a smirk.
"Is that something out of the Bible or something?" John asked with a doubtful laugh, and yet Sherlock's simple smile probably answered that question for him.
"Just something off of the top of my head." Sherlock admitted proudly, and yet John giggled a little bit more.
"You can't be all that lonely; I mean you live with two other people it's kind of like a religious frat house right?" John guessed hopefully, to which Sherlock just grinned and looked out the window at the fading sunlight.
"I suppose that's one way to put it. However I never see Father Turner and Greg is always hiding in his room or out at the bars...Probably shouldn't have said that." Sherlock decided finally, ducking his head in shame after realizing that he had just exposed Greg's unfaithfulness to a parishioner.
"Oh no don't worry, I've noticed him there a couple of times. Quite the disobedient priest he is." John assured with a low whistle. Sherlock nodded glumly, however there was something about this conversation that made him feel uneasy yet insistent on going on.
"Well he assures me that he has justification." Sherlock added with a shrug, to which John just chuckled rather uneasily.
"What on earth could justify disobeying God? That's like asking for a lifetime sentence to hell." John reminded him, to which Sherlock only nodded in agreement.
"That's sort of what I try to tell him, and yet he tells me that he'd rather live for a couple of years happy on earth and spend the rest of his existence in hell than live in Hell all around." Sherlock muttered reluctantly.
"I could see where he's coming from I suppose. The world is kind of hellish without excitement, without drinking or chaos or love." John agreed softly. Sherlock cleared his throat nervously, keeping his head fixed on his feet and awkwardly rearranging himself in his seat.
"Well it's not like we can't drink or have a chaotic night out, it's just that we're supposed to stay faithful to God and keep our hearts fixed on him. Greg's not the best at keeping his wandering heart in check." Sherlock admitted, feeling almost bad for spilling all of Greg's little secrets to this man who barely knew him. Then again he felt like he was obligated to inform John that some priests do in fact have lives, and Sherlock was just an example of an obedient young priest who was too far dedicated to God that he wouldn't dare stray far from the light. Greg on the other hand was so submerged in darkness that he probably couldn't see two inches in front of him.
"And you are, I imagine?" John asked in an almost constricted voice, as if his throat was trying to close around the words it didn't want to escape his lips. Sherlock forced a little smile, still not brave enough to look over at his companion even though he felt John's eyes focused on him.
"Yes I like to think I am." Sherlock agreed weakly. He heard John hum in agreement above him and was finally able to lift up his head to look around at the cars that were driving all around them. Sherlock always hated driving on highways, too many big trucks and too many irritable people who thought they were some sort of VIP. That acted as though they were the priority and if you followed the laws of the road and inconvenienced them then you were the bad driver and you got the finger from the tinted window of a soccer mom's minivan. There was silence for a long while, Sherlock began to fiddle with the radio to try to avoid commercials and yet it seemed to be the minute that every single station in this general area decided to play those obscene used car commercials and so Sherlock finally settled on some horrible pop song that was the only thing with a beat playing currently. John was obviously too polite to complain, and yet Sherlock noticed him wincing every time the singer's voice got obviously auto tuned.
"It's the only thing on." Sherlock explained quickly, and John nodded in agreement, having probably figured that out without Sherlock's help.
"Shouldn't be much farther now, it's not a long drive once you do it every day." John admitted with a tone of misery.
"You come up here every day?" Sherlock asked, obviously impressed.
"Well yes, I try to at least. Both Rosie and I get very lonely without the other's companionship, and I feel like it's my duty as a father to be there for her when she needs it." John admitted flatly.
"Well of course Mr. Watson, that's true dedication. Surely you deserve Father of the year." Sherlock decided with a little laugh.
"When are you going to stop calling me Mr. Watson?" John wondered, very discreetly changing the conversation. Sherlock just smiled a little bit, glancing over to see John's hazel eyes fixed intently on him. Sherlock dropped his gaze, feeling his cheeks heat up with the embarrassment of being caught.
"Probably the same time you stop calling me Father." Sherlock admitted meekly. John looked at him in confusion, obviously not expecting such an answer from a priest.
"I thought it was kind of everyone's moral obligation to call you Father? It's a priest thing right?" John wondered curiously, gripping the steering wheel almost uncomfortably as Sherlock shrugged.
"Well I suppose it is but, between friends, I think we could let it slide." Sherlock guessed, already regretting phrasing it in such a way. John was going to get creeped out now, wasn't he? Surely Sherlock shouldn't invite himself into friendship like that, he should wait until John was more comfortable around him, he should wait until he was able to look John in the eyes without look hastily away! What did he even think friendship was?
"So we're friends then?" John wondered in a small voice, to which Sherlock simply winced.
"If you think that's too much of a title we could just admit to being friendly, and yet friends is certainly a very broad term, I don't want to..."
"No it's fine. I'm alright with being your friend." John assured quickly, making this conversation sound like an exchange between two kindergarteners instead of two grown men.
"Oh...oh. Wonderful. Thank you." Sherlock said very reluctantly, to which John simply laughed, as if Sherlock's appreciation was obviously something to be cherished.
"Don't make many friends do you Sherlock?" he wondered curiously. Sherlock simply shook his head, wondering if John realized he had used his first name or not but deciding not to make a big deal out of it. Maybe if John absentmindedly called him Sherlock now he would do it again later on. They arrived at the hospital parking lot not much later, pulling into a vacant spot near the front doors and hopping out.
"Are they expecting me?" Sherlock wondered, grabbing the vial of oil and pocketing it securely. John looked at little bit guiltily however he shook his head, as if he wasn't all that worried about not coming invited.
"It's alright though, I'm sure they don't need to make a big fuss." John assured quickly, locking the car before staring up the well maintained sidewalk.
"I honestly don't know, I haven't done this many times." Sherlock admitted. John looked up at him quickly, looking a tad bit reluctant now that he knew that Sherlock was a newbie.
"Should that worry me?" John wondered curiously, and Sherlock simply shook his head.
"Oh no, I brought a cheat sheet." Sherlock assured with a smile, to which John simply laughed.
"There you have it then, a holy cheat sheet." John muttered with a little chuckle, and Sherlock could only crack an approving smile before following John through the double doors into the hospital. Sherlock hadn't been in many hospitals in his life, however he had a very vague understanding of how they worked simply because of Greg's weird soap opera faze. Now certainly there wouldn't be much making out in the janitor's closets; however Sherlock knew that there would be long term patients in little rooms by themselves and everything would be all white. Well, judging by the floors and the walls and the ceilings he had gotten at least one of those assumptions correct. John attempted to just walk by the secretary's desk; however she gave him a bit of a glare when she saw that John was trying to bring an unregistered guest into the hospital with him.
"Yes, my apologies. This is Father Holmes; he's here to see Rosie." John said quickly, turning on his heel and leaning over the counter as if he and this secretary were best friends. She seemed rather suspicious of Sherlock's being there, as if she doubted he was a legitimate priest at all, however in the end she let him sign his name on the visitor's log and be on his way.
"Sorry about that, I usually don't have a problem with the secretary." John admitted, as if he were ashamed for making Sherlock go through all the peril of signing his name.
"Well you know how suspicious I am." Sherlock agreed with a smile. John simply laughed, however his smile was probably the only one on this level of the hospital. They ascended through the very odd smelling elevator and arrived at the pediatric ward, where they kept all of the children who had to stay for constant medical attention. The whole place reeked of disinfectant and there was a permanent air of sadness hanging through the air like a fog. It felt wrong to see the name plates covered in childish stickers, knowing that whoever lay behind that door, no matter how young, was nearing death. Sherlock saw John's smile drop as well as they approached one of the most colorful and decorated doors in the hallway. It was plastered with old streamers and photographs, mostly of John with a small child and a mysterious blonde woman, a woman that was unmistakably John's wife. Seeing that woman left Sherlock with a very out of place feeling, seeing her smile, seeing John smile, seeing them all as the happy family and not as the dysfunctional lonely people Sherlock knew today. It almost made him feel as though he were a sad replacement for whatever happiness John had managed to create all those years ago.