Sherlock had forgotten how long he'd been there, his wings well tended to by the priests and pastors, as if it would forgive their sins. Monsters, all of them. An angel had no place in being bound by humans, no place in being a symbol of their faith, not like this. He refused to stay here, even if it had been condoned by the father himself. 'What you hold to on earth, I shall hold to in heaven'. He questioned his father's intelligence for giving these beasts free reign with such a rule, allowing atrocities to be committed in his name. Lifting his head as the priest unbound his wings, right on schedule, he let out a small chuckle. "Forgive me, Father, for I am tempted to sin." he breathed, earning a raised brow and confused expression from the priest.
"And what tempts you, a servant of the lord?" The priest murmured, running a damp cloth down the sleek black feathers, bringing the angel to shudder to his touch. Sherlock gritted his teeth, bowing his head once again.
"Freedom tempts me, Father, loss of these binds. Allowance to walk free, my body aches for it, my mind aches for it." he breathed, hoping he would not have to resort to violence, that he would not have to break the rules of his father just to escape. Never would he be accepted back to grace if he harmed a human, his fathers favored creation, favored over even the ones who so loyally served him.
"The world is not for you, one so pure will be tainted mere moments after stepping out of these doors, you will be taken by those who wish to pull you apart. We are protecting you, dear one, you were sent to us for a reason and when the time is right, you shall be shown to the world." The priest breathed softly, running the cloth down Sherlock's straining back muscles, bringing him to pull against the chains, receiving no give and leaving him only squirming desperately. "Blessed one, be still, I shall not hurt you." His voice was soft, as if talking to a simple child, Sherlock couldn't stand it.
"So you shall not let me go?" Sherlock questioned, earning a soft laugh, almost mocking.
"No, we shall continue to protect you until we are given sign that something else is intended, however long you must be here." The priest stated softly, smiling as he moved to Sherlock's front, the cloth being rubbed gently down his bare chest and over the muscles of his shoulders that were pulled so taught by the chains, straining under the skin.
"Father, plea-.."
"We have spoken enough of it, Sherlock, enough." The priest stated firmly, moving back behind Sherlock to lightly tend to his feathers again, ensuring they were well cared for.
Letting out a sigh, Sherlock shook his head. "Forgive me.. father, for I shall sin." The priest looked up just in time to see the large black wing smash into the side of his head, his powerful muscles knocking him across the room, sending the small pot of water intended to clean him spilled across the floor with a clatter. Laughing to himself, almost maniacally, he still hung helpless and struggling, wings flapping behind him. He hadn't thought this through, clearly, left like a helpless worm on a hook.
"Hello?" Sherlock's head shot up as he heard the voice, albeit distant, there was someone in the church. "Hello Father?" English, rough voice, most likely been crying before coming here. Perhaps this was a gift, father had forgiven him and he would be granted freedom.
"Help! Please!" Sherlock called, hoping his voice would carry through the thick oak doors, he had stopped shouting for help long ago but if there was ever a time to resume, it was now. The footsteps halted at the sound of his voice, clearly trying to figure out what to do. "In here! Please, please help me!" Sherlock continued, voice strained. The footsteps hurried, doors pushing open with a small groaned noise. Then a gasp followed.
"Jesus Christ!" The man uttered, earning a chuckle from the bound angel, shaking his head.
"Not quite.." Sherlock murmured, looking up at him. ".. Just an angel kept hostage by those who pretend to serve God's will, now if you would, get me down." One of wings pointed to the unconscious priest on the floor and he raised a brow, looking into the man's eyes. "He has the keys, let me loose.." The man licked his lips, shifting from one foot to the other, clearly unsure.
"And how do I know you're not some demon, meant to be here?" he finally questioned, voice wavering. "Black wings, not how I'd imagine an angel.."
"Please.. They have kept me here for so long.." Sherlock begged the man, looking pleadingly into his eyes, only to be met with a stern gaze.
"Not a chance, mate, not until I know the whole story here." The man shook his head, kneeling and tending to the priest, the angel gritted his teeth in frustration. Damn these humans.
Hanging in silence, Sherlock waited until the priest finally stirred, waking with a sharp breath and gaze directing up to him immediately. Keeping his gaze at the floor, he disregarded the look of disappointment on the priests face and the sigh that left his lips. "I thought we had passed this, Sherlock, our blessed gift.. The father sent you to us for a reason, be still and accept of it." His voice only incited more anger, more frustration, though the man spoke before he could voice it.
"So he really is an angel..?" he questioned incredulously, looking the priest in the eyes.
"Yes, my child, he is a blessed servant of our lord.."
"Then why are you keeping him bound?" Sherlock looked up as the man asked that question, eyes flitting between them, reveling in the look of outrage on the blonde man's face.
"He.. He is innocent, he cannot be tainted by the world, we have to keep him pure." The priest protested, shaking his head.
"No. No, that's wrong. Have you looked at him? Not only is he going to suffer severe dystrophy.. he's literally begging to be freed! What the hell is wrong with you?" The man shouted at the cowering priest, hands gripped at his sides. "You know what that is?! That's torture. You tortured this creature! Does that prove your faith?! Do you think your God would approve of that?!... Give me the damned key right now." he snarled, the shaking priest handing him the key with mumbling protest, only getting a glare in return. "Get out.."
Those words were obeyed, disappearing into the back rooms as the man smiled weakly at Sherlock. "My name's John, John Watson.. I'm going to get you down from there, okay?" he murmured softly, wrapping an arm around Sherlock as he unlocked the cuffs above his head, supporting him in his grasp. Sherlock, however proud he usually was, wrapped his arms around the man and held onto him tightly.
"Thank you, John." he breathed softly, closing his eyes as he was held so carefully.
"I'll look after you, at least until you can get home, don't you worry about that." John assured with a soft smile, scooping the wavering angel into his arms, careful of the large black wings. "You can stay with me.."