To Be Like That Of A God

Avoid The Never Ending Suspicions

"You do not think I am a sinner? An abomination?" Sherlock muttered shockingly, staring upon the top of Molly's head, barely believing what he had just heard.
"You are no less human than the rest of us, Sherlock." Molly assured with a smile. "And now that I know, and now that you know I know, would it really kill you to snuggle a little bit?"
"Snuggling, oh that is just...that's repulsive." Sherlock insisted with a laugh, however even as he debated it Molly cuddled even closer, leaning her head on his shoulder and bringing her legs overtop of his, almost like a child trying to cuddle against their mother's chest.
"Oh come on, you like it, admit it." Molly insisted with a playful laugh, laughing as though nothing had changed in their relationship, laughing as though Sherlock's newly admitted homosexuality didn't scare her the slightest bit.
"You're insane." Sherlock muttered, and yet even as he spoke he drew her closer, for he could not argue against the comfort of it all, the companionship and the bond that was unyielding even in the face of such a daunting and overpowering secret. It was painful, however, to finally understand that Molly didn't seek his love, only his faithfulness. She would allow him to keep his distance romantically, however she would not allow him to go off with other men, with one man to be exact, she wanted all of his love, however platonic it may be, to herself. She had every right of course, being as they were married, and yet her words made his actions even more horrible, and they made his intentions all the worse. Sherlock loved Molly in a way that couldn't satisfy her, and yet he needed a love that would satisfy himself, he knew that John Watson's presence in his life could not be so easily subsided. And here he held her, knowing full well that he would be held in John's arms in the coming days, with that man's lips on his own and their breaths intertwining into one, it was a dreadful thing. It was a necessary evil. Sherlock was indeed an abomination, maybe not for his sexuality but for his twisted morality, his lies and his smiles and his false reassurance. He may hold Molly now, and she may think that everything keeping them apart had long since disappeared, and yet little did she know that she sat upon the very bed that Sherlock had discarded his marriage, abandoned his vows, and gave himself, in body and soul completely, to John Watson. Little did she know she sat in the very bed that he would give himself again, again and again, to that very same man without any regret, without any second thought. For John's love was the only thing keeping Sherlock's heart beating, his blood pumping, and his body moving. Sherlock lived for that love, and a simple golden ring and a mere makeshift wife wasn't going to prevent him from living the way he intended. 

 Victor POV: For a while Victor thought over his mistakes, lying in his top bunk and feeling Sherlock's lips on his neck again and again, feeling the steam from the bath and smelling the heavily perfumed soap suds, oh why was he so stupid? Why did he reject the only offer of romance that Sherlock had every extended to him, why would he push that man away when he had longed for him his entire life? This wasn't a matter of morality anymore; Sherlock's ethics were as broken and disfigured as Victor's heart, oh why didn't he simply lean in? This house was going to ruins; the only marriage it harbored was based entirely off of illusions and mere brushes of the truth, affairs and lust that was not so easily contained by a golden ring. The elder of the brothers was veering on alcoholism; the younger was dancing along the fine line between self-confidence and narcissism, the servants were gossiping drunkards, the stable boys obsessive gamblers, the walls of the Holmes manor held so many different combinations of the seven deadly sins that it was corrupting its visitors and its inhabitants ever more. Molly Hooper, her presence of purity had light every candle and illuminated every dark corner of the squeaking floorboards and yet soon her light would fade, for the indecencies that swirled around her were soon to overbear her in shadow. She will know, of course she will know, when her husband ventured off to another man, she will notice his absence, she will wonder where he got to and where he had come from when he arrives in the early morning, staggering and smiling and falling next to her into the bed without touching her, without embracing her. Homosexuality itself was considered an abomination and the lust and temptations of men seeped through the very walls, for they harbored the most beautiful man of all, bringing every one into his orbit, man and woman alike, to bask in his beauty and to cry in agony come his rejection. Molly Hooper's goodness was sure to collapse in on itself, and for someone who smiled so much, Victor was quite sure that she would find herself crying more often. He wondered just what sins would bubble upon the surface of her skin, what sorts of horrible acts she was willing and able to perform, what would be her fatal flaw? Would she defend her marriage, would she fight tooth and nail for full possession of her husband's heart? Would she be so prideful as to play God, and take lives that were supposed to flourish? Time would tell, it would have to spill its secrets sooner than later, and Victor was beginning to suspect that it was all coming to a close, this horrible play of inadequacies, surely nothing more could be done to save these sinful men? Surely only justice could have a part in the upcoming scene, revenge for lies told and vows broken, and reminders that no mortal man, no matter how beautiful, could ever play God.