Leviticus 20:13

It Seems As Though Nothing Else Matters

Sherlock had morning mass that day and so his morning consisted of many cups of coffee and a lot of misery. Six o'clock was not a pretty hour in anyone's life, however Sherlock had quite an action packed night and he had stared at his dark ceiling for maybe an hour before actually falling asleep, so of course he had that to worry about. He simply couldn't stop pondering everything in his mind, he had been seething with rage until well past eleven last night until he could finally doze off. Thankfully Sherlock didn't remember his dreams because surely they would lead to whatever answer he was most likely trying to ignore, he simply didn't have time to pay attention to his subconsciousness in times like these. To Sherlock's relief the house and its residents were asleep while he was getting ready, and so he was able to slip out into the morning fog without so much as a word to either of his fellow priests. It was Sunday once more, a very busy day to be a priest, and so Sherlock was expecting quite the crowd today at mass. Of course he hadn't practiced his sermon again; however he was getting increasingly good at simply winging it. Certainly his audience didn't know whether or not he had a script, they just appreciated his chatting with them and his stupid little jokes he threw in just to see if he was preaching to actual humans or just sleep deprived machines. As Sherlock stood in the backroom of the church he was suddenly struck with the realization that John may just be a face in the crowd this morning, it was a Sunday after all. No, he worked at the diner didn't he? Early, usually, so that was good, he would come to a later mass then, one that Sherlock hopefully wasn't leading. He didn't know why the idea of preaching to John was so unsettling; it almost felt wrong, as though there was some sort of irony when he spewed the word of God at the poor man in the pews. He knew that John was religious; he knew that he was trying to reconnect with God, and yet it almost felt like it wasn't Sherlock's business to intervene in his newly budded relationship with Heaven. Not to mention John's presence totally threw Sherlock off course. He was always so focused on John's presence even when he was looking somewhere else or concentrating on something else. He was good at not expressing his pressure, he certainly didn't stutter or go off course when John was there and yet he was always so terribly aware of John's presence in the crowd. And he always knew that those hazel eyes were fixed on him, whatever he did, whatever he said, John was watching and listening and anticipating every move and sound he made. It was just so difficult to be perfect throughout an entire mass, not just in preaching but in appearance as well. Sherlock almost felt like he was betraying John's concentration if a single curl fell over his forehead, he felt as though he had failed some sort of test. Oh what silly things to dwell on before a mass, who cared if Mr. Watson was there or not? Why did he let himself get so worked up over the opinion of one man? Why did he care, why did he make it seem like the world depended on whether or not John was impressed with him? They were both human, they both made mistakes and they both learned to accept someone else's mistakes. It was surely time to let go of his insecurities, oh if only it were that easy. When finally it was time for mass Sherlock stood upon the altar and scanned the crowd as he led them in prayer. It was a large group of course, and yet to his relief he saw no short little blonde men near the front. No John Watson this morning. He was able to let out a sigh of relief, although he had no idea why it mattered. Oh what was happening to him, what sort of obsession had he contracted last night? When mass was finally over Sherlock stood at the door and greeted everyone once more, thanking them for coming to mass and making small talk to the best of his abilities. Molly Hooper was there once more, and so of course she took up a good ten minutes of his time going on and on about how her cats were and how one of them was sick but the others were being so supportive and she had to bring it to the vet twice because it was throwing up...Sherlock didn't catch much else, after minute three he sort of went into a blank daze and stopped listening all together. When Molly finally left (and she was the last one of course) Sherlock went back behind the altar to change out of his robes, slinking miserably into a chair and staring at the clock as the hands went round and round. Father Turner had the eight thirty mass so he should be in sooner than later to get ready. Sherlock decided that he ought to avoid Father Turner this morning, just so that he could fight through this rather unheard of crisis in his own mind, and so he decided to pay Mrs. Hudson a visit. She was very busy this morning, and she explained to him that it was because there was a burst pipe in the basement and they needed to find a suitable plumber and clean up team. And so Sherlock took to sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs in her office, listening to her use her stern old lady voice to yell at those poor workmen on the other end of the phone. It was a very uneventful morning that quickly turned into an uneventful day. Sherlock lingered about the church all morning and all afternoon, waiting for John to walk into the church and yet hoping that he didn't. For some reason Sherlock simply wasn't prepared to talk to him, he was rather apprehensive about how John would take it. After last night's porch incident Sherlock was quite sure that John was going to ignore him all together if he even did show up, however mass after mass went by and no sign of him. Maybe he was avoiding Sherlock all together, worried that if he showed his face in the church after such an interesting night that Sherlock would try to talk to him and try to get closer than before. Surely John wasn't in the mood for chitchat, and Sherlock understood that of course, however it felt rather odd to be turning off the lights on the quiet church without so much of an appearance by John Watson, especially on a Sunday. Father Turner had left the church long before Sherlock had, he and Mrs. Hudson had been wandering about the basement with mops and buckets, trying to make sure the leaking pipe didn't make too much of a mess. There was only a little bit of water on the floor and yet Mrs. Hudson was making a great big deal about it, whining that there would be mold the next morning and how it most likely seeped into the foundations of the church. She was usually a very pessimistic woman, and tonight was no exception because by the time they had stowed their mops away she was convinced they would have to rip the entire church down due to asbestos. The two of them trudged up the dark stairs with wet feet and sweaty foreheads, and now Mrs. Hudson was making a big deal about the plumbers and how they could only come tomorrow even though this was some sort of 'emergency'. Sherlock couldn't help but look around the darkened church, half hoping to see a figure in the darkness, sitting in the pews alone. However there was no one, and they locked up the church and headed home without any protest from the man that may or may not be inside.