Leviticus 20:13

Part-Time Paternal Priest

           

John knocked on the door gently, glancing over to see Sherlock staring at the pictures and going a little bit pale.
"I decorated a little bit." John explained quickly, as if he suspected Sherlock needed some sort of clarification.
"Yes I see, it's lovely." Sherlock assured politely. John nodded, glancing miserably at a family picture once more and tightening his grip around the door handle. Finally a small voice allowed them entry, and John slowly opened the door. Sherlock walked into the dark room slowly, glancing around at the decorations and posters that had been scattered about the room. John certainly did know how to make Rosie feel at home even in this drab old room, stringing her get well cards up on some clothes line in the back, keeping flowers in vases and stuffed animals on the dressers and pictures hanging on Command Strips on the walls. And yet it was obviously not home, there was the unavoidable air of sadness that clung to the walls in this room just as much as it did in all the others, and the thin little girl hidden amongst the bedsheets didn't make it any more cheerful. Sherlock had been expecting Rosie to look like someone out of Greg's soap operas, a dying patient who looked perfectly healthy while sporting a full face of makeup. As for the real patients he's seen they've all looked normal, they were old and dying, they were supposed to look withered. And yet seeing Rosie now, a girl who could be no older than six, it struck Sherlock with a blow he couldn't possibly have anticipated. She must be dying of some sort of cancer, hence the flowery scarf wrapped messily around her head. She was very thin and frail, looking as if a simple touch would shatter her young bones on contact. Her skin was pale and stretched gauntly over her bones, giving her an almost skeletal appearance even though she was still alive, if only barely. Sherlock stood rather nervously in the doorway as John walked over to his daughter and greeted her warmly. Her face lit up in excitement, as if her father's presence was enough to put a smile on her young and withered face. John took his daughter's hand softly, telling her things that Sherlock didn't quite understand as he stood transfixed in the doorframe. He almost felt like an intruder, as if Rosie was one of John's most secret and prized possessions, he almost felt like he needed permission to enter the room if at all. And suddenly John was looking at him expectantly, and of course Sherlock had no idea what he had just said so he just stood there blankly, muttering his apologies.
"Father you can come in, just close the door behind you if you could." John assured, turning on one of the lamps next to Rosie's bed as Sherlock carefully stepped inside. He seemed awkward of course, as if he hadn't introduced his daughter to many friends in the past, and yet Rosie seemed totally comfortable with the strange man in her hospital room.
"Rosie this is Father Holmes, he's a priest at my church." John said politely. Sherlock walked over to Rosie and held out his hand to shake, however he decided that maybe that wasn't the best way to greet a child so instead he withdrew his hand and bowed his head respectfully.
"Hello Rosie, it's nice to meet you." Sherlock said slowly, smiling even though he had the very odd urge to burst into tears.
"It's nice to meet you too. Daddy told me about you last night." Rosie assured, looking over to where her father was now leaning against the wall. He nodded in agreement, and Rosie just smiled up at Sherlock with more confidence. He was shocked at her intelligence, she seemed like she talked very fluently and easily for a child her age.
"Yes he said that he would, hopefully he didn't make me out to more than I am." Sherlock said with a little chuckle.
"Can I see your eyes?" Rosie asked rather abruptly, and Sherlock laughed a little bit uneasily, looking over at John curiously who had suddenly turned a violent shade of scarlet.
"Why would you want to do that?" Sherlock asked curiously, however he opened his eyes and leaned over so that Rosie could easily see whatever she was hoping to in his irises.
"Daddy said they were beautiful. I just wanted to make sure." Rosie admitted, studying Sherlock's eyes for a moment longer before leaning back into her pillows with satisfaction. Sherlock straightened himself up and looked once more at John, who looked about ready to die as he retreated farther and farther into the wall.
"Honestly I don't remember saying that." John said in an almost whimper. Sherlock couldn't help but smile, he found that more flattering than anything. The very thought that John thought he was beautiful, well it was enough to make Sherlock blush as well.
"Well what would your opinion be Rosie?" Sherlock asked with a little laugh.
"He described you perfectly." Rosie assured with a large smile, and Sherlock couldn't help but smile as well.