Leviticus 20:13

Not As Discreet As You Intended To Be

Sherlock had some sort of plan before John had arrived, or at least he thought he did. The idea of getting caught was just too horrific to fully comprehend, and so he had planned on getting John out of the house well before ten o'clock, just so that his wake up call didn't consist of screaming priests with John caught in the middle of it all, trying to shield himself from crucifixes being thrown like ninja stars as he tried to collect his strewn clothing from where it lay on the floor. No, Sherlock had intended on being sneaky about this whole operation, however the moment John had kissed him he knew that nothing would ever go down according to his makeshift plan. For starters Sherlock hadn't anticipated their shifting from the kitchen to his bedroom, and even though it was much more private up here it almost guaranteed them falling asleep in an exhausted, love induced slumber. He had never expected for John to take him in his arms and cradle him like a child while the both of them breathed heavily, trying to get their heart rates to slow so that their drooping eyelids could finally shut for good. And yet Sherlock only discovered that whatever plan he had made had turned out pointless when he woke up in the morning and felt those telltale arms still wrapped around his bare chest. He tried not to panic simply because he knew that even though their risks of being caught had just sky rocketed, John was still asleep, and it would be considered rude to wake him for such a silly little thing like excommunication. However Sherlock must've done something to alert the sleeping man that something had changed, because almost as soon as Sherlock woke he started to feel John's body start to shift from behind, his arms twitching while trapped underneath Sherlock's neck and his head lolling around on the pillow. It was a terrifying thing to wake up and know that you were now a completely different person, it was one thing to wake up with a secret but to wake up next to a secret was a different thing entirely. Sherlock knew that everything he had just done last night would affect the rest of his life, and even though he may be able to outlive the memory he knew that the guilt would follow him around like a dark cloud for as long as he claimed to still be a follower of God. He had sinned last night, and what scared him more than that was the simple fact that he suddenly didn't care. John was here, as was Sherlock, and for a moment that crushing weight of loneliness was annulled from Sherlock's heart, suddenly the simply idea of John falling asleep next to him was enough to reassure him that there really was someone in this world who loved him. And even as John's arms started to twitch, and even as he began to hear footsteps down the stairs from the hallway, well he didn't really care. It was all over now, wasn't it? All that was left was the aftermath, the secrecy, and the memories he would try to recreate in his head when he began to doubt his place in the world. Sherlock was sure of John's consciousness once he began to feel soft kisses on the back of his neck, John's arms suddenly moving out from where they were trapped between Sherlock's body and the blankets so that his fingers could trail about Sherlock's cheeks in sleepy circles.
"Good morning." John murmured finally, releasing a deep exhale of breath against Sherlock's bare shoulder.
"Keep your voice down." Sherlock whispered nervously, very slowly turning himself over so that he could face John in this sleepy secrecy. John didn't seem too worried; in fact Sherlock was honestly surprise about how at ease the man was, despite his obvious entrapment in the rectory. There was no leaving out the front door, that was sure, and so Sherlock was almost positive he would have to send John out the window one way or the other.
"What, are they listening?" John wondered in a soft voice, a smile playing across his lips and getting cut off where his cheek was smashed into the pillow. He looked adorable in an early morning kind of way, his hair collecting in a bit of a rat's nest atop his head and his eyes droopy but alert all the same. He seemed to glow in the morning sunlight, and suddenly Sherlock was overwhelmed at just how close they were at the particular moment. Now of course they had every reason to be close, at the moment there were no two people who were closer than they were now, it was simply the fact that even after last night Sherlock was still a bit terrified of what John had in mind for the rest of their lives. Hopefully this wasn't a simple one night hookup, when after their first night together they disappeared out of the other's life for the remainder of it, however Sherlock also hoped John didn't think this would be a regular thing. It was difficult enough to get the priests out of the rectory for one night, imagine if John had made a habit of coming over two, maybe three times a week? Now Sherlock was all for companionship and commitment, however he certainly hoped John wouldn't be offended if he had to opt out of date night every once in a while to maintain his cover.
"Father Turner has morning mass, he should be leaving soon. I'll get up after he's gone; see if Greg is lurking about." Sherlock said in barely even a whisper, dropping his voice so dangerously low that he was sure John didn't hear a word he said.
"Who should I be worried about?" John wondered softly, his fingers brushing lightly against Sherlock's cheek as if he was only half interested in the conversation at hand.
"Father Turner would be more critical, however Greg punishes in his own ways." Sherlock muttered, his face already getting red at the very idea of Greg poking his head into his room and seeing John lying amongst the mess of blankets and sheets.
"How so?" John wondered, his thumb brushing up against Sherlock's bottom lip and making it increasingly hard to talk.
"Well I've always made fun of him for breaking his vows and running off with random women; imagine the comments I'd get about you." Sherlock muttered with a sort of smile, and John laughed in his own very quiet way.
"It's almost like you're ashamed." John observed, and Sherlock simply shook his head, burrowing closer as if that would somehow prove his dedication to their sudden relationship.
"Never ashamed, John, just cautious." Sherlock assured. At the moment he heard the slamming of the front door, and, after peeking over John's shoulder at the little analog clock on the bed stand, he concurred that Father Turner had just left at his usual time, heading over to the church in the morning dew.
"That would be Father Turner." Sherlock decided finally. John nodded silently, leaning over so that he could press a final kiss to Sherlock's lips, making the priest giggle unnecessarily.
"Go get me some coffee." John muttered, a smile playing across his lips as he finally pushed Sherlock away. Sherlock just rolled his eyes, however he slipped out of the cocoon of warm blankets and pulled on a pair of ratty old pajama pants coupled with his thin robe before he made for the door, taking one last look at John where he lay curled with his head rested on the only pillow before smiling quietly and stealing into the hallway. It was empty, thankfully, however there were lights on downstairs and the sound of cereal crunching was enough to alert Sherlock that Greg was up. He closed his bedroom door very quietly, patting down his mess of curls before he crept down the stairs in the most innocent way possible. As long as he maintained a normal attitude Greg would never notice that anything was different, it was after all just another bland Monday morning. Sherlock walked casually into the kitchen, trying not to notice that there were two glasses of whiskey sitting on the counter, one still half full while the other one was drained. Greg sat at the table looking very calm, maybe he didn't suspect anything? The box of Lucky Charms sat ceremoniously in front of him while he scraped at the last of the marshmallows that were sticking to his little plastic bowl, not even raising his eyes to look at Sherlock before he started to talk.
"So Father Turner yelled at me this morning." Greg muttered, looking as though he was talking to the creepy leprechaun on the box instead of Sherlock since he still hadn't raised his eyes.
"He did?" Sherlock wondered rather nervously, walking around the counter and grabbing himself a couple of slices of stale bread, the bread that was specifically reserved for toast since it was all together inedible on a sandwich. He wasn't hungry however he had to make some sort of effort to look as if he had gotten a good night of sleep and had a very uneventful morning.
"Oh ya, he was real mad. So a thank you wouldn't go amiss." Greg muttered, finally dropping his spoon into the colorful puddle of milk that remained in his bowl and turning in his chair to look at Sherlock with a little frown of discontent. Sherlock's hands shook momentarily as he pushed the slices of toast into the toaster and made for the coffee machine, remembering John's request. Surely this wasn't a normal conversation, Greg knew something...didn't he?
"A thank you for what? Surely you didn't do anything just by getting yelled at." Sherlock muttered nervously, leaning against the counter and forcing a little smile at Greg, who frowned very unresponsively back.
"You should thank me because now, according to Father Turner, I had brought a girl here last night. And even though we both know full well that I would never do such a stupid thing, now he's confiscated the whiskey and my right to the car. For a month!" Greg exclaimed irritably, glaring up at Sherlock as if this was all his fault. Sherlock's throat had closed momentarily, and suddenly he couldn't do anything except shrug his shoulders repeatedly, as if he thought that was some sort of appropriate response.
"Well then maybe...maybe you shouldn't have brought a girl here." Sherlock suggested in a very weak croak of his voice. Greg groaned in annoyance, as if he simply couldn't believe what he was hearing, however he looked up at the ceiling, as if hoping he would be able to look into Sherlock's bedroom through the floor boards.
"You know you don't have to hide John Watson up there, he can come down if he really wants breakfast." Greg snapped, crossing his arms and watching in silent amusement as Sherlock's face drained of all color.
"John's not...he's not here. What a ridiculous thing to say." Sherlock croaked, his hands shaking so ferociously that he had to shove them into his pockets so that Greg wouldn't notice.
"There are two glasses of whiskey on the counter, there is a man's button down shirt lying under the counter, which I had the courtesy to push there myself, Sherlock his car is parked right outside what kind of idiot do you take me for?" Greg exclaimed suddenly, to which Sherlock just stared, unable to say anything however his mouth hung open in an astounded gape. Greg rolled his eyes in annoyance, getting to his feet and throwing his bowl and spoon rather angrily into the sink.
"Well if you don't have the courtesy to invite him to breakfast, I think I'll just do it myself." Greg decided finally, rolling up his sleeves and starting for the stairs.
"No, no Greg please don't!" Sherlock exclaimed suddenly, running after Greg in a whirlwind of horror, not wanting Greg to see the final proof. Okay so maybe Sherlock hadn't been as sneaky as he had intended to be, but that still didn't justify invading the poor man's privacy! However as soon as Sherlock made it to the stairwell he heard the door open, and a scream broke out that assured him that Greg had found what he was looking for.