Written for the LiveJournal community Watsons_Woes for their July Writing Prompts challenge. The prompt for day 3 was Sacred spaces: Incorporate the religion or philosophy of your choice into today's story, in whatever manner you choose.
_Unbelieving_
Army service has a way of either confirming one's beliefs beyond doubt or tearing them all to shreds and leaving nothing but doubt behind. Considering my experiences abroad, it should not be a surprise that I abandoned my Catholic upbringing and preferred to exist separate from any thought of God.
Mary was more devout than I, and to keep her in good spirits I periodically attended services with her. Holmes somehow knew of this, though I never spoke of it to him, and when we were on a case and about to commit some petty act of trespassing, he teased, "Will a priest be hearing of our evening misdeeds?"
"Mary is Protestant," I retorted. "And I am indifferent."
Holmes did not comment. Shortly after, I was in a church to grieve his loss and I wondered anew what sort of God could allow such things to pass by His notice.
My church attendance then was a record more of absence than presence, with appearances perhaps on the major holidays but no more. Mary, saint that she was, did not press me.
Then I lost her too, and the babe we didn't know she bore. After her funeral I resolved to never darken the door of another church, regardless of creed. God did not exist, could not exist and allow such things to happen. Those that professed a loving God were only deceiving themselves so their lives would not seem so bleak.
And life was, indeed, bleak. But still I soldiered on, like the soldier I was, and took comfort in helping others however I could.
Then Holmes returned and part of me called it a miracle, wanted to credit a generous deity with his restoration. But Holmes' tale was entirely rational, his explanation firmly grounded in reality-gods need not apply.