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Title: A wordless prayer
Words: 221
Rating: PG-13
Pairings : Sherlock/John
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Not mine.




The Catholic mass starts when the priest sheds his secular clothing. Their mass starts the same.

Then:

Darkness – like a cloak, hiding them.
Heartbeats – pumping blood through the body beneath him, so alive.
Hands – warm, gentle.

Soft moans - a wordless prayer.


This was his religion. Everything he believed in was here, enclosed in the darkness with him. The only way he could worship the miracle that happened, the chance that had been given to him.

Who would have thought that all the things he deemed important before ceased to have meaning when he was with this exceptional, extraordinary man, who had a sharpshooter’s aim, was brave, loyal, kind, funny, so very human and – most importantly – his.

Sometimes he looked at him and could not grasp that all this would fit into that compact and scarred body, hidden beneath knitted jumpers.

He touched John again, heard him whisper his name into the darkness and knew the other man felt the same.

When they were here the ever-present noise in his head fell silent.

Of course they had conflicts. Arguments. Fights. But never here, never in the bedroom, their chapel. This was the place to celebrate their love, their very own nocturnal High Mass, a holy ritual.

This was their religion and the two men in the bed were the only brethren.




------------------
AN: I needed a little writing exercise. This happened.

I apologise if this hurts anybody's religious feelings.





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