Leviticus 20:13

Between The Two, I'll Take The Ladder

John POV: On a list of bad things to do late Saturday night, spending a night with a priest was probably pretty far up there. Not only was John irresponsible enough to get carried away, but he was also stupid enough to let himself fall asleep once more, falling completely exhausted to the carpet and pulling Sherlock's beautiful silhouette closer in the dying light of the fire. As with most things the morning held all the consequences of the carefree moments spent in the light of the moon, and despite the invisible feeling everyone got when the stars were out the arrival of the sun was enough to put everyone in their place. It was five o'clock when John woke up, and thank the lord he had woken up when he had, because had they slept in an hour longer Sherlock would either be late to church or he would have to show up in his pajama pants and bathrobe, having to spout excuses as they came with John nodding in agreement behind him. It was the fibers on the carpet that woke him up, they were itchy and scratchy and miserable, and it was only too noticeable against his bare side after so long. When John opened his eyes he could only see the embers of the fire, glowing bright from where they smoldered away at the bottom of the metal grate in the fireplace, all that was left of their roaring fire. The wine glasses stood thankfully unharmed on the brick mantle, looking a bit hot but altogether unscathed. And Sherlock was there, wrapped his arms just where he had left him, his curly head lying so close to John's face that he was afraid if he breathed too heavily he would inhale some of his hair. At first John didn't want to wake him; however he was smart enough to try to crane his neck to the cable box that sat under the TV, the cable box he used as his makeshift clock after he had thrown his analog clock like a Frisbee in a fit of solitary anger. Long story. Nevertheless the green numbers obediently displayed the time, the very time that sent shivers down his spine.
"Sherlock...Sherlock wake up." John hissed desperately, sitting up in a moment of panic and shaking the poor, sleepy man's shoulders. He groaned for a little bit, half asleep yet conscious enough to shake John's hands away irritably.
"I need my beauty sleep." He reminded John in a mere grumble of a voice; however John just rolled his eyes, shaking Sherlock's shoulders more vigorously and flicking at his ear.
"You also need a job, and if you wait another five minutes you might find yourself without one." John reminded him quickly. Thankfully that was enough to get Sherlock to his feet, jumping to attention so quickly and running about the living room trying to retrieve his clothing, dashing off towards the door only to return again as he hopped around in his pajama pants, trying to pull his robe on as if he were looking for something specific.
"I'm going to be late, I'm going to be fired, we're going to be exposed!" Sherlock shrieked horrifically, knotting his robe in a very elaborate bow before patting down his curls in horror.
"We'll be fine, Sherlock it's five o'clock, you've got an hour to get back to the rectory and get back in bed." John assured, trying to keep his voice calm as Sherlock rushed about in a fit of almost hopeless panic.
"I didn't bring a key, John I didn't bring... I need to go back in through the window!" Sherlock exclaimed, running his fingers stressfully through his hair once more and searching about the dark living room for his other slipper. As all of this was going on John was doing nothing except observing, sitting up and hugging his arms around his bare chest, trying to stay warm while his face spread into a smile. Sherlock was like a one man show, a very anxious, loud show, but he proved to be entertaining all the same.
"Well did you leave a ladder out for yourself?" John wondered hopefully, however even as he said it the look on Sherlock's face was enough to ensure him that he hadn't even thought of such a thing.
"That would've been helpful a couple of hours ago, thanks John!" Sherlock groaned, diving under the couch and looking around for his other white slipper, an impressively big slipper at that. John didn't bother to tell him that he had been laying on it all night, and it was now pressed very uncomfortably into his knee cap, safe and sound. It was almost amusing to watch Sherlock search, like a blood hound that simply didn't know what he was sniffing for.
"I've got a ladder, if you so desperately need to use it." John offered with a smile. Sherlock paused for a moment, hanging upside down on his armchair while he rooted around underneath.
"Could I?" Sherlock asked hopefully, as if he had thought John was honestly just joking about such a thing.
"Certainly, I could sacrifice it for a day to ensure you come over again in the future." John assured.
"Next time listen to me, when I say don't get carried away you know what you're supposed to do?" Sherlock wondered with his eyebrows raised, looking almost like a scolding parent.
"You're not supposed to get carried away." John muttered shamefully.
"You're not supposed to get carried away!" Sherlock repeated back, sounding completely exasperated, as if he didn't remember what a catalyst he had been for getting carried away the night previous. John sighed heavily, grabbing at Sherlock's stupidly huge white slipper and throwing it at the man as if it was supposed to be some sort of airborne attack, however it landed stupidly on the carpet in front of the chair where Sherlock finally noticed it a couple of moments later. He muttered to himself about how terribly unobservant he had become (probably not knowing that John had literally just thrown it) and shoved it onto his foot.
"I've got to go, where is your ladder?" Sherlock wondered quickly. John got to his feet miserably, dressing as quickly as he could before leading Sherlock into his sad excuse for a garage. He had gotten in the habit of parking his car in the driveway simply because Mary's parents had gifted him with an obscenely large riding lawn mower a couple of years back, and instead of keeping his car indoors he kept that stupid machine parked smack dab in the middle of the garage, just so that he could mow the ten foot patch of dirt that sat in front of his house once every three months. The ladder was bungee corded to the ceiling in a perfect demonstration of how not to keep a ladder, and he was already sure that it was going to take a lot of work to get that thing down safely. Sherlock looked at it rather nervously, as if he had expected some sort of fancy aluminum folding ladder that he could run off with. Instead this thing was a fifteen foot long wooden ladder with unnecessarily heavy iron rungs, impossible for any one man to carry himself and almost laughable for any one scrawny Bible beater. He had only ever used it once, and that was when Rosie had been throwing paper airplane out of her window and got one stuck in the pine tree in front of their house. It had been a process of course, and it ended with the wind simply doing all the work despite John's efforts to get this stupid ladder out from its place on the ceiling.
"Alright, you take one side, I'll take the other." John instructed, standing up on the riding mower (hey, I guess it had one use) and holding the ladder steady.
"How am I supposed to reach?" Sherlock asked nervously, looking up at where that heavy ladder lingered a good two feet above his head.
"I don't know, get a chair. Get that chair!" John said quickly, pointing at an old wooden dining room chair, one that had come with the set, that had never been used for dining or anything else with a purpose. It had always just sat in their garage, no one quite knew why, collecting cobwebs and dust. Sherlock wasn't afraid; however, to drag it over to where the ladder hung and get up on top, his little knees shaking nervously as John began to undo the first of the bungee cords. As soon as the cord fell away the ladder came crashing down, however he was able to catch it before it hit him on the head and steadily he was able to lower it down to his level. That just left Sherlock's end.
"Why on earth did you hang a ladder from your ceiling?" Sherlock asked miserably, his white fingers prying nervously at the bungee cord.
"It seemed like an innovative move at the time." John admitted nervously, watching as Sherlock finally undid the cord and caught the ladder right before it cracked any skulls. Together they eased themselves down to the ground, standing proud with the horrible heavy ladder between them, looking around as if wondering what to do now.
"Well, off to the rectory." Sherlock said finally, starting his way down the ladder as if he was expecting to carry it himself, therefore getting a good position in the middle to balance out the weight. John simply laughed, the very idea of that poor man carrying this thing all the way to the rectory was actually pretty sad, and yet Sherlock's face fell in confusion, obviously not able to see what was so funny.
"You think you could carry this thing all by yourself?" John clarified with a sleepy smile.
"You're not coming John, if you come then they'll know I was out." Sherlock protested quickly.
"And if you saunter up to the holy house in your pajamas with a large ladder what are they going to think? That you were ought for a midnight stroll?" John suggested with a laugh. Sherlock's face fell, but even now John could feel the ladder shaking in his hands as Sherlock's strength weakened. There was no way he would be able to carry this whole thing himself, and obviously he was beginning to realize that.
"Oh fine, fine! But you can't be seen, not by anyone!" Sherlock insisted, glaring at John accusingly since his usual pointer finger was busy holding the ladder.
"I'm sure we won't be a scene, we'll be fine. Just two men carrying a ladder at the break of dawn." John muttered under his breath; however he heard Sherlock mutter something about this all being his fault, cut off with a little squeak of fright when John pressed the garage door opener, letting the very first rays of sunlight leak into the garage and letting them and their ladder sneak off into the dawn. It was a scene unlike any other, not only for Sherlock and John but for anyone who happened to be enjoying their morning coffee by the window. They had either end of the ladder held between them in a very awkward fashion, their arms wrapping around the rungs and their legs struggling to catch up as they wobbled back and forth with the uneven distribution of weight. John was leading and he could feel Sherlock beginning to lag behind, and not only did he have to carry the ladder backwards and run but now he had to drag that poor priest along with him. Surely his reputation wouldn't be as soiled if someone knew him, it wasn't like he had anything to uphold around here, however if a parishioner got one look at the shenanigans their 'sophisticated' priest was getting himself into, well, they wouldn't look at him the same way again. John never knew just how far it was to the rectory, or at least he never appreciated the distance quite like he did when he was carrying a fifteen pound ladder. It seemed as though every street stretched on for miles when in reality he only had to go a couple of paces here and there, navigating through sidewalks and narrow spaces, trying to turn corners and making sure not to cut Sherlock off or scrape the ladder against something important, like a parked car. Thankfully they didn't run into too many people, only a couple who were out walking their dogs or on a morning jog. Most of the spectators simply gave them a weird look, that awkward little side eye when they're trying their best not to stare but they simply can't bring themselves to look away. John was willing to bet that no one connected that scrawny little man in a bathrobe with the well dressed and well respected Catholic priest, at least not in this low light from this distance away, and so all in all the trip was a success. Now the hardest part would undoubtedly be getting Sherlock into the rectory without being seen, since the priests were undoubtedly on the prowl at this time of morning. From what John knew of the layout of the house there were windows that overlooked the backyard from the kitchen, and that would probably be where the priests would congregate should they be awake. It was going to be exceedingly difficult to get Sherlock into the building through the roof, however maybe there was another, sneakier way to get inside.
"Couldn't you just call Greg?" John called miserably, finally making out the steeple of the church poking out from the rooftops of the houses right across the street. They were close.
"He won't be awake he's...." Sherlock paused for a moment, heaving in a couple of breaths before continuing. "...He's always asleep!"
"Couldn't you wake him up with a phone call or something?" John protested irritably, suspecting that the easiest method to get into that house wouldn't be to crawl through the window but to walk through the front door.
"If he's awake at this hour Father Turner will get suspicious, we've got to be discreet." Sherlock insisted, and yet John really didn't see what was so inconspicuous about holding a ladder in front of the kitchen window while grumpy Father Turner began to make his coffee. Finally they arrived at the rectory and yet it seemed as though their problems had just begun. Somehow they had to get this ladder around to the awning above the patio without being spotted through the window.
"Here, around to the left." Sherlock muttered, dropping his voice considerably and shuffling off without John's consent. For a moment there was a bit of an awkward shuffling period where they tried to get their ladder equally spaced apart, shuffling along like a turtle with a considerably large shell. John crept through the tall grass next the dark windows of the first floor, peering nervously through the shadows as if he was expecting someone to be staring back. However no one was there, and he continued on.
"If we can put the ladder on the side he won't be able to see it from the windows unless he's looking for us, so as long as I'm quiet we'll be fine." Sherlock whispered, his voice quivering with the anticipation of breaking into his own house.
"And what if he's not in the kitchen? What if he's just waking up and he sees you scrambling about the rooftops?" John pointed out in a harsh whisper, tiptoeing to the very edge of the house and easing his head around the corner. Thankfully the back yard was clear, at least of people. A rather ugly bird bath stuck out like a sore thumb throughout the mess of tangled weeds and halfheartedly cut grass, however that bird bath was certainly not going to judge them and so John decided to just ignore it.
"His curtains are drawn...yes I remember that vividly." Sherlock assured quickly, prompting John to breathe a long overdue sigh of relief. Finally, some good news.
"Alright then, prop the ladder up." John said finally, getting to his feet and using all of his strength to lift the ladder above his head and run it up to the house. Sherlock trailed behind awkwardly, yelping as he suddenly had to stoop over to keep the bottom rung in his hands before he finally let go. John could feel the extra dragging weight against the grass and that made it no easier, however he finally was able to place the ladder as quietly as he could up against the awning and steady it out. Sherlock scrambled up behind him so quietly that when John finally turned around he almost screamed, however he was thankfully able to control himself and turn that screech into a little squeak of surprise.
"So I'm just going up the ladder?" Sherlock whispered nervously.
"Ya, you're just going up." John agreed.
"And you're not coming, right?" Sherlock clarified almost nervously, glancing up at the awning as if he suspected it would be a better journey should John be there crawling by his side.
"I thought the whole object of this was to make sure I'm not seen? I don't think it would be smart to be roaming about the house now would it?" John wondered sarcastically, however his lips stretched into a smile when he saw Sherlock's eyes light up in amusement.
"No I suppose not." Sherlock admitted in a rather disappointed tone, dropping his gaze to the ground and staring intently at his slippers.
"I'll see you later, alright? Maybe tomorrow night?" John suggested hopefully, trying to make it so that they have more of a steady relationship and not just nights spent at random. He loved Sherlock not only for the physical side of his relationship but the emotional side as well, he would be perfectly happy to spend an evening in the park or having a picnic or going walking downtown. That was what normal couples did, didn't they; despite how abnormal their relationship was to begin with?
"Ya, tomorrow night...I suppose I don't have anything else to do." Sherlock agreed absentmindedly. John knew that he didn't mean it to be an insult however he couldn't help but laugh.
"You act as if you're such a busy man, and hanging out with me is just so exhausting..." John pointed out in a mocking sort of way. Sherlock's face suddenly contorted into an expression of worry, as if he was suddenly afraid that John legitimately thought he didn't like the time they spent together.
"No, no John of course I love to see you, I was just going through my schedule, I don't have any other church commitments so I would be absolutely okay with..."
"I know what you meant, just stop talking." John insisted flatly, holding up his hand to shush Sherlock to which the man only giggled, as if John's annoyance was now starting to amuse him.
"Yes alright." He agreed finally, smiling a timid little smile. John sighed, gazing upon the man in the most loving sort of way, feeling almost like he was in a cartoon with hearts drawn over his eyes. However Sherlock, standing there in the most sleepy and innocent way, well he really was something to see, something to appreciate. John felt as though he could stare at him all day, with his crooked little smile and his slightly red cheeks and his unstyled curly bangs falling into his face in an unruly sort of way, however there was a time limit, and that was certainly evident when he saw that it was already six o'clock.
"You need to get going." John said suddenly, tapping his watch and stepping out of the way of the ladder. Sherlock nodded, taking a deep breath and taking a step closer to where the ladder sat with its bottom rung just scraping the ground below. However he finally decided against going up, at least for a moment, because he ducked away from the ladder for a moment and grabbed John by the sides of his head, pressing a surprising yet much appreciated farewell kiss to John's lips before hastily parting and starting up the first rung of the ladder. Maybe he thought that would make this little goodbye more dramatic, and John hated to say that for once he was right. He had never been the one to be flustered in this relationship, however for once his cheeks glowed like a schoolgirl's and he was left momentarily speechless, watching as Sherlock started to ascend the ladder and trying to force himself into thinking something relatively intelligent.
"Goodbye!" he called up in a louder voice than he would've liked, however it was enough to get Sherlock to look down with that beautiful smile, pausing on his way up the ladder just to look down upon the man who waited for him on the ground.
"I'll see you tomorrow night." Sherlock muttered, and with that he gave a final nod of farewell before scrambling up the rest of the ladder and easing himself as quietly as he could onto the awning. John heard the faintest open and close of an old wooden window pane and yet after that it was silent, and suddenly he found himself standing alone in the backyard with this horribly heavy ladder.