Yes, sometimes I write things that aren't Superwholock- actually, I write this fandom, Dalton (by CP Coulter) quite often.
"Quiet down, Tommy."
"It's Dwight" The young boy huffed, crossing his arms and sliding down in his seat.
"Fine, Dwight," his mother emphasized in a whisper, rolling her eyes, "It's only an hour. You'll be okay."
"Yeah, but it's so boring!" He turned to his little brother.
"I don't know about you, but this all sounds like a bad case of zombie virus to me."
Alan, only five at the time, nodded back, eyes wide.
Agatha Houston sighed, rubbing her youngest's back, "No, honey, it's not zombies: it's Jesus. He just does that."
Dwight sniffed, "Yeah, so does Dean. Doesn't make him any more heavenly."
His mother shushed him gently as a man walked towards them, handing Agatha a silver platter littered with small pellets of bread. She took one and passed it on to her sons, who followed in kind. As she was taking the second platter that held the tiny medicine cups of juice that was meant to symbolize wine, Dwight began to speak again.
"And another thing: communion. We are supposedly eating Jesus' bones and drinking his blood. That is cannibalism!" Agatha noticed the poor server's look of surprise and discomfort.
Alan piped up, peeking at his mom around his brother, "Cannibalism is frowned upon in most societies."
Dwight nodded in agreement before giving the juice and wine a suspicious look.
Agatha sighed. "Okay. Cannibalism. Zombies. Whatever. Just please get through this one church service quietly and we'll go get some milkshakes and we won't have to come back to church until Christmas. Deal?"
The elder brother twisted in his seat and began whispering to his brother, who nodded occasionally. Finally, Dwight turned back to his mom, holding out his hand, "Include a large thing of fries and we're in."
With a shake of her head and a small grin on her face, Agatha shook hands.
She couldn't help but laugh a little as she saw her sons happily high five.
Dwight is literally me in churches