Sunday
NOTE: Words in Italics from the song Take Me To Church by Hozier and are the inspiration for this one shot.
Words: 970
Rating: T
Spoilers: S2:E3
My lover's got humour
He's the giggle at a funeral
I don't know how we got roped into this. I didn't know Mrs Hudson's cousin. John didn't either. But still, here we were. I knew John would be cross with me if I said anything rude. "It's a funeral for God's sake, Sherlock, show some respect." You know, something like that.
That is, until John took my hand, causing my stomach to twist like a child.
I looked over probingly, but before I could make my deduction as to what his plans were, he grinned at me and tugged towards the door. I tilted my head, glanced at the few people who saw what we were doing and were shooting us glares, and he just kept on smiling and pulling.
Knows everybody's disapproval
I should've worshipped him sooner
I let him and when we got out the door, he kissed me.
"I was dying of boredom. Let's go home."
It was late on a Sunday, so people were about with their crosses on their chests and I recoiled from it all. Puny people who needed to believe in something supernatural to be able to handle their problems. Disgusting.
Every Sunday's getting more bleak
A fresh poison each week
"Why didn't we stay?" I asked John. "I thought you cared about things like that. You know, life."
"Of course I care about life," John replied. "I value life highly. What I don't value is funerals like that. The type where you know nobody actually cared about her. It's because I value life that I couldn't stay there a moment longer. We didn't care, they didn't care, and so it was all an insult to her memory."
If the heavens ever did speak
He's the last true mouthpiece
"Your funeral… when you…" He paused, cleared his throat, and then continued, "It only had the people that really cared. It was intimate and it was worthy of your death. Even though you weren't dead. Prat."
"Yes, that was a bit not good, I suppose," I replied.
"A bit, yeah," John responded, knocking my shoulder. "You're truly sick," he added melodramatically.
'We were born sick,' you heard them say it
My Church offers no absolutes
"Oh, you like it," I told him, waving my hand at him in a blasé manner.
John Watson gets turned on by the most random things.
This was one of those things.
He looked over with fire in his eyes before he pressed me against the wall, right there in the open, and kissed me.
"You'll scare the churchgoers, John," I said, trying to look serious.
John looked at me closely, a slight smirk touching his lips, before getting his mouth up to my ear to breathe, "Let them cower."
He tells me, 'Worship in the bedroom.'
The only heaven I'll be sent to
Is when I'm alone with you—
It was only a little bit of snogging later before he was dragging me again, with gusto, towards 221B.
"How is it," I asked as we made our way there, "that talking about how 'sick' I am got you going?"
John looked back at me, his eyes now infused with lust even when we were just innocently walking.
"Like you said. I sort of like it."
I was born sick,
But I love it
Command me to be well
Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.
He afforded me his smile again, the one that made the clouds run away and sent the demons back to hell.
If I'm a pagan of the good times
My lover's the sunlight
We were nearly to the door when a random man saw our intertwined fingers and said to us, "Get a room, faggots."
John, as sensitive as he of course was, said, "We're working on it, mate. Thanks for the suggestion." And even dared to wink at him.
To keep the God on my side
He demands a sacrifice
Drain the whole sea
Get something shiny
Something meaty for the main course
The man was appalled. "When eternity never comes for you, you'll be sorry for you behaviour."
That's a fine looking high horse
What you got in the stable?
We've a lot of starving faithful
Only when we were inside the door did John say, "Well when you and I have the best fuck of our lives, he'll be sorry he's missing out." One last smile at his own joke before that man was utterly forgotten.
John's hands managed to be forceful and gentle at the same time as my back was against the wall again and he mouthed my neck, making my head fall back and my eyes close.
That looks tasty
That looks plenty
This is hungry work
John lavished my skin with as much attention as he could before I got impatient and started pulling him up the steps and towards my bedroom—which was closer.
We both fell to the bed, on our sides, and our mouths met once more.
He was devouring me and I was devouring him and there was nothing else like this in the universe—not the chase, not the work, nothing.
No Masters or Kings
When the Ritual begins
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin
I spent so much of my life being above it all, thinking I was my own higher power. Then John found me and brought me down into orbit again.
In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
Only then I am Human
Only then I am Clean
Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.
John stopped, that animalistic glint dead for the moment.
"I love you," he breathed to me.
No words properly stated how I felt about him in return. He was everything. I would give him everything.
Good God, let me give you my life