John grinned. "Now you are going to deduce my sins, are you?"
"Simple. Petty teenage theft. I'd figure, what, a couple of Hail Marys and you are good as new?"
John shook his head in disbelief. "I've killed people, Sherlock. Why do you think I wouldn't confess to something more severe than shoplifting?"
"You're not Catholic, so you wouldn't think of confession as being inherently necessary. Regarding recent events... the dissolution of your marriage occurred under such unusual circumstances that you could not feel legally nor morally responsible." John nodded silently. The recent memory still stung. "You've a strong moral principal. If you truly thought killing that cabbie wasn't justified, you wouldn't have done it. You did it to save lives... mine, and the others he would have targeted in future. If the idea of taking a life, any life, had been an issue, you would have had ample time to have resolved that with a member of the clergy in Afghanistan... along with anything else which might have occurred while you were stationed there. As an educated medical doctor, I doubt you see self-abuse as a sin, so much as a natural function." John's face reddened just slightly, but he agreed. "So, what would you not have bothered to confess to in Afghanistan? Something you thought wasn't worthy of their time. Something clearly wrong, but which everybody likely did at one time or another. What did you steal, John? A record album would be awkward and I doubt you had a CD player until you were in college. Cigarettes. No, more likely alcohol."
"Alcohol and cigarettes. Though the cigarettes weren't for me."
"Most people steal in their youth. It's a right of passage."
"You've nicked things too, then? Besides from Lestrade, I mean. And ashtrays, come to think of it. And...why am I even asking this, of course you have."
"Slight of hand, element of distraction, all useful skills. I'd be remiss in my training if I didn't know how to steal."
"Felt kinda good. To admit to it, I mean... not to do it. To confess."
"Confession and absolution are generally considered helpful... to be truly forgiven, let go, move on. Especially when one considers how criminals are often driven by their inability to forgive themselves.
"How they convince themselves they are bad people, undeserving of compassion, only to make themselves exactly that? So, did you confess too, or did you just start some theological debate with the priest?"
Sherlock glanced away from the road and examined John. It was long enough for him to get a little nervous about his continuing to drive.
"My maternal grandmother was Catholic. I've been to confession before. As far as stealing things in my youth, I returned them. It was the ability to take the thing I found thrilling, not possession of the thing itself. It was equally thrilling to put it back, unnoticed. As far as today's confession, Father Brian chose not to grant me absolution."
John dropped the subject. He wasn't up on Catholic theology, but knew enough from friends that a priest could deny absolution if one wasn't truly repentant. Picking fights was probably not a particularly helpful gesture either.
FILL 2b/? Confession (past child molestation)
John grinned. "Now you are going to deduce my sins, are you?"
"Simple. Petty teenage theft. I'd figure, what, a couple of Hail Marys and you are good as new?"
John shook his head in disbelief. "I've killed people, Sherlock. Why do you think I wouldn't confess to something more severe than shoplifting?"
"You're not Catholic, so you wouldn't think of confession as being inherently necessary. Regarding recent events... the dissolution of your marriage occurred under such unusual circumstances that you could not feel legally nor morally responsible." John nodded silently. The recent memory still stung. "You've a strong moral principal. If you truly thought killing that cabbie wasn't justified, you wouldn't have done it. You did it to save lives... mine, and the others he would have targeted in future. If the idea of taking a life, any life, had been an issue, you would have had ample time to have resolved that with a member of the clergy in Afghanistan... along with anything else which might have occurred while you were stationed there. As an educated medical doctor, I doubt you see self-abuse as a sin, so much as a natural function." John's face reddened just slightly, but he agreed. "So, what would you not have bothered to confess to in Afghanistan? Something you thought wasn't worthy of their time. Something clearly wrong, but which everybody likely did at one time or another. What did you steal, John? A record album would be awkward and I doubt you had a CD player until you were in college. Cigarettes. No, more likely alcohol."
"Alcohol and cigarettes. Though the cigarettes weren't for me."
"Most people steal in their youth. It's a right of passage."
"You've nicked things too, then? Besides from Lestrade, I mean. And ashtrays, come to think of it. And...why am I even asking this, of course you have."
"Slight of hand, element of distraction, all useful skills. I'd be remiss in my training if I didn't know how to steal."
"Felt kinda good. To admit to it, I mean... not to do it. To confess."
"Confession and absolution are generally considered helpful... to be truly forgiven, let go, move on. Especially when one considers how criminals are often driven by their inability to forgive themselves.
"How they convince themselves they are bad people, undeserving of compassion, only to make themselves exactly that? So, did you confess too, or did you just start some theological debate with the priest?"
Sherlock glanced away from the road and examined John. It was long enough for him to get a little nervous about his continuing to drive.
"My maternal grandmother was Catholic. I've been to confession before. As far as stealing things in my youth, I returned them. It was the ability to take the thing I found thrilling, not possession of the thing itself. It was equally thrilling to put it back, unnoticed. As far as today's confession, Father Brian chose not to grant me absolution."
John dropped the subject. He wasn't up on Catholic theology, but knew enough from friends that a priest could deny absolution if one wasn't truly repentant. Picking fights was probably not a particularly helpful gesture either.
"So, are we headed to Dublin then?"