sherlockbbc_fic | Prompting Part XXXV

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Prompting Part XXXV

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So John and Sherlock are shuffled into a church during a case. There's people already there and John and Sherlock are mistaken for patrons of the church. They have to join in confessions for some reason (it's rather hard to say no to such nice people).

Sherlock confesses his "sin" of "seducing" [insert person of high status in a community such as a priest, teacher etc] when he was a little boy.

and... he truly believes it was his fault.

aw omg sherlock <3

Oh, poor baby. D=

Thirding.

Question...are confessions public? My understanding was this is done privately in a booth. Do they do it publicly in this church, or was it overheard somehow? Interesting prompt. Might fill, but plate is awfully full.

I don't know what the OP had in mind, but resident Catholic anon here: confessions are private, either face-to-face with the priest or with a screen between you and the priest. However, some of the booths, especially in older churches, aren't particularly soundproof, and so if you're standing close (eg, the next person in line for confession) you might overhear.
That being said, if you're going to be a stickler for detail, Sherlock and/or John would either have to be Catholic or mistaken for Catholic to get bullied into confession, because it's a rite that non-Catholics aren't *really* supposed to participate in. I mean, technically speaking, no one's ever supposed to get bullied into confession, but it happens. It'd be pretty unlikely if it was obvious they were outsiders, though.
I'm interested to see where this prompt goes!

AYRT
Yeah, I don't know if Baptists do that sort of thing publicly. I am only familiar with Catholic confessions ( and even then, as an outsider), but I am willing to suspend disbelief for a good story. Just not sure what OP wants. I could make it like a born-again confess your sins in front of God and everybody, good ol fashioned tent revival...but not sure about OP's thoughts. That would likely be making them do it by pressure(for a case, not losing the respect of your informants and suspects), not congeniality.

OP did not say Sherlock makes a public confession. He could have been ushered in the general direction of where confessions take place privately.

I don't think anyone has to over hear it.

Yeah I guess you are right. He could discuss it with the priest, or just say his peace and leave. I just had John discussing it with him in my head for some reason rather than a compassionate priest. My bad.

Apparently the prompt hooked me, because I started thinking it over and writing it down and...well.. now I've got pages.
So, OP, if you don't mind...some clarification questions so it can be more in line with what you want?
Do you have a preference for Sherlock's age? Whether it is Johnlocky or no ( and if so, pre or post Mary, or does it not matter?) Anything in general you want to see or not see in it?

The weather was cold and damp, and the wind cut through your clothes not so much like a sharp knife as like a battle axe. John kept his hands in his pockets while Sherlock kneeled on top of a grave, tracing his fingers along the cold stone. John didn't know what he was searching for, but he assumed it had something to do with the frequency of visitors to this gravesite. He wished they would leave. Not only was it bitter cold, but there was something about Sherlock kneeling on top of a grave that felt so very wrong. Plus, he'd spent entirely too much time associating Sherlock with tombstones and simply didn't want to do it anymore.

"Did you find whatever it is you're looking for? Can we go?"

Sherlock smiled. "Yes. It was his wife. Definitely."

"Good. I mean, not good. But, let's go, okay?"

"John, one would think you're afraid of ghosts."

"No, it's just, it's a bit disrespectful. Standing on top of someone's body."

"Mmmm. I don't think he minds. Especially in the service of justice, for his own death."

Sherlock moved to the side, though, and continued to examine the stone.

"Haven't seen ye round these parts before! Did ye know Michael McNally?"

John turned abruptly and stared at the priest, scrambling for words. Sherlock spoke.

"I was told we might be related. Website suggested some ancestors of mine might be buried in this cemetery. Looking for birth and death dates, to do some further research." John tried not to look surprised. Sherlock's voice sounded infinitely more...accessible. He wondered who he was going to have to be. He didn't mind this, it was kind if fun, actually, but thinking on his feet was not his forte. Sherlock continued. "Never expected to be in Ireland, but since we're here for a medical conference, which, coincidently, put me within an hour of this village, I thought I'd drop by. William Vernet. Pleased to meet you, Father." Sherlock smiled amiably (John recognised it as Amiable Smile Number Three) and shook hands with the elderly man. "I never knew this part of my family. Was told they scattered after the Revolution. Ended up in England, Ireland, Scotland...seems there are some people I won't have the chance to get to know. He died young! Does he has any living relatives? Maybe I won't be too late to meet them." He looked hopeful. "Did they attend services here? His family?"

"No. Been far too long since Michael stepped into a church, I dare say. Saw quite a bit of his dad, though. Sometimes saw the wife and kids, too. Less and less over time."

"Shame."

"'Tis. Come in. I'll get you some tea. Weather's brutal today."

"Do you mind, John?"

John relaxed a bit, hearing his name. He was to be Dr. John Watson, medical conference attendee. That's good. That works.
"No. I could stand a good warming up."

"Well then, do come in, both of ye."

Sherlock followed the priest into the church. He looked around, awkwardly.

"Been far too long for ye as well, I see. When was your last confession?"

"Far too long."

"I'll put the kettle on. You two might want to make use of those booths over there. Warm the body and the soul. Wouldn't want that soul to get too warm, now, though, eh?" He winked. "Father Brian is in there right now."

The priest disappeared, and Sherlock spoke rapidly and quietly. "One of us needs to be coming out of there when he gets back. It is imperative he sees it. Go in there and confess something."

"What?"

"You heard me. Make something up. I don't care. Just do it."

John glared, but still found himself walking into the booth.

After a short while, he walked back out again. It was Sherlock's turn to glare. The priest had not returned with the tea. Clearly he was giving them both time to make a confession. Sherlock sighed and entered the booth.

John sat in the pew and waited. Sherlock was taking longer than he had expected. The priest came over with tea, handed one to John, then glanced towards the booth. "I'll wait a bit for your friend," he said, then ducked into another room. Shortly after that, John thought he heard Sherlock's voice, still muffled within the confines of the booth, but clearly agitated.

Oh, God. Sherlock was arguing with a priest.

Catholic!anon here, and I love this so much! You've perfectly captured the balance of humor and drama I love so much about John and Sherlock's interactions (Amiable Smile #3 kills me.) Plus, you solved the problem of how they end up in confession wonderfully. Can't wait for more!

Hey there Catholic!anon :) JewishbutraisedinaCatholicneighborhood!authoranon is very grateful for your comments!
Is the standard for minor things a few Hail Marys? What would a priest do for what level of sin? ( It might help as I move forward in the story.)

Minor things are usually a few Hail Marys, yep. More major things might be more, say, a rosary, but usually the priest tends to focus on your making amends to the people you hurt, and giving you coping mechanisms for avoiding temptation in the future. Confession is a lot like therapy, honestly. Also, my experience as a kid with an anxiety disorder has been that priests are very good about helping you distinguish what's actually a sin from what's you feeling guilty about things that aren't actually your fault. (The church's definition of a mortal sin (a sin that requires confession) has three parts: it has to be a serious matter, it has to be committed with full knowledge both that you're doing it and that it's a serious matter, and it has to be deliberate, ie, full consent-- no outside pressure.)
Hope that was helpful!

Very helpful! That was what I was thinking, but having confirmation that I am on the right track regarding the 'therapy' aspect of confession really helps a lot. Also that it has to be deliberate, serious, and full consent helps a *ton*. Is that common knowledge, or only something people who really think about it know? ( like, do they teach that checklist in Sunday school?)
I soooo love writing fic where I learn stuff. Authoranon is so happy now!

They definitely teach you a simplified version of the definition before first confession (age 6/7) and then again in more detail during the classes you take before being confirmed (age 13-14ish). However, if Sherlock was molested around age 13, he might not have started confirmation classes yet, and a six-year-old's understanding of serious, deliberate, full consent is shaky at best. Sunday school might reinforce it, but I don't know how much a kid like Sherlock would pay attention. It tended to be pretty simplistic.

This is the op!

I love how you got Sherlock and John into the church! I'm looking forward to more!

Hey there OP! Authoranon here! Glad you like how they got there!
Quick questions going forward... age of Sherlock matter to you? (I'm thinking 13 ish, because I want him genuinely sexually curious, but only *curious* KWIM?) and did you want any Johnlock undertones or no? More should be up later today.

OP here
yes, I'm okay with that. It doesn't matter what age he is as long as he's of "an impressionable age" and not legal but still curious as that's what I'm interested in being addressed in the fic. =) It's a fine line. ahhaha

I usually read/write johnlock so I'll be up for that either way!

Sherlock emerged from the confessional scowling, with the tinge of pent-up fury colouring his impossibly-high cheekbones. John felt a wave of compassion for Father Brian... an annoyed Sherlock Holmes was never a good thing. He recovered fairly quickly and sat down next to John, though he refused to look at him. By the time the other priest had returned with Sherlock's now lukewarm tea, he was placid once again. Or at least appeared to be significantly more so.

The priest (Father Patrick) had mentioned how Mrs. McNally had come with her two daughters several times, then left a few days after her husband's heart attack to move in with her mother in the City. If Mr. Vernet wanted to visit the girls, he was pretty sure their mother was not welcoming guests, it being so soon after her husband's death, the shock and all. Michael had a sister in Kilkenny. He didn't know her address, but it might be easy to find. He could look at old church records for a more complete picture of his ancestry?

Sherlock explained the visit had been a bit of a whim, and he had to return to his conference, but he wrote down the names and locations and promised he'd contact them by mail to express his sympathy, and attempt to learn more about the family history at a less emotionally trying time. He thanked him for his gracious hospitality, and headed to the car. He slammed the door a little too hard, and drove in uncharacteristic silence, then turned to John with a certain dogged determination that made the doctor's heart race (and his stomach drop just a bit, to be honest).

"Rather enjoyed that bit of absolution?"

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?"

na

I was very interested to see how you would create a believable situation that would follow the prompt. This is quite creative and plausible. I look forward to more!

Thank you so much, Nonnie! That's wonderful to hear.

The further away from the country they drove, the more John's face fell.

"You like the idyllic façade of the country, as opposed to the industrial grit?"

"Fresh air, sunshine. Lovely scattered farmhouses. Peaceful. If we stayed the night, there would be actual stars."

The meeting was brief. Rather than present a ruse, Sherlock simply informed her that he was investigating her husband's death, due to some inconsistencies in the autopsy report. She didn't ask him for details, and said there wasn't much to tell; she woke up to a cold body beside her.

They didn't stay long. Though the house was comfortable, perhaps even overly-warm to insulate against the chill of winter turned to early spring, Cathleen McNally still frequently tugged the sleeves of her jumper down over her wrists and wore a high lace collar. The oldest child wore similar clothing, with a silk scarf in an elaborate paisley pattern, far too old for her. The younger ones were napping upstairs.

"The vilest, filthiest city alleyway or the smiling, beautiful countryside? Our impressions are misleading. Lonely houses, with large spaces in between... and yet it is always the city that gets the reputation for crime people seek to escape."

Sherlock fired off a text to Lestrade and began the long drive to the rural airport.

"Lestrade arresting her?"

"Dull case. He can continue to pursue it. I have no obligation to do so. I gave him my own insight. If she's still in Dublin, he can collect her."

It never failed. Every time he thought the man callous, Sherlock showed his compassion by appearing even more callous to someone else.

*****

"Do you still want it?"

Sherlock turned, perplexed. "Do I still want what?"

"Sorry. You do it so much, sometimes I still forget that you are not a mind reader. Do you want absolution? For, whatever was weighing on your mind enough to not have made something up in that booth."

"It's hardly necessary."

"Yes, but that's not what I asked. And there is a reason why it's on your mind, I'm sure. Otherwise, you wouldn't bring it to the forefront."

"I... was in a relationship with an older man. An instructor of mine." John had suspected Sherlock was gay when they first met, but had since placed him firmly in the 'I'm not interested in a relationship, and definitely not interested in one with you' category, which was enough to cut off further exploration. Irene was of interest. He had thought Janine was, too, until he had pieced together the whole story, partly from what he had observed and partly from Mary and Janine's friendship. They had never discussed it, he and Sherlock. So. He was gay. Or maybe labels were more suitable for his bespoke suits then for his sexuality. Might have just been a passing phase at Uni. Sherlock Holmes was not one to be satisfied using other peoples data without recreating his own... experiments. John struggled to turn off his internal monologue and focus on Sherlock's actual words and on trying to look nonchalant. "I broke up his marriage. I thought it had been over anyway, but it turns out her discovering his affair with me had been the final straw."

John nodded.

"Father Brian told me I was not responsible for the sins of another. If I was truly worried about Holy Judgment, if I didn't consider the whole thing an absurd fallacy, I'd be seeking out another priest."

"Given I didn't even get a free pass on my sticky fingers, I would suspect he had a good reason for denying you your part in it. And good marriages, where there is love and trust, don't just end if someone pushes from the outside." He doubted the priest would have thought adultery a minor offense, even if you weren't the married one. John's mind raced through possible reasons Sherlock's role was minimized to the point of not requiring any penance whatsoever and landed on one. Coersion. "He didn't, uh, threaten to give you a bad grade if you didn't comply, did he?"

"Oh. Oh, no, John, nothing like that."

"Good. For a minute I thought that..."

"You were wondering why he wouldn't absolve me and you thought it was an issue of consent. No. He said that I couldn't be held accountable for my actions because I was too young."

John's relief was short-lived. "How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

Authoranon here: Ooops. Disregard the sudden change in weather to where it is now sunny. That's what happens when I rework something from Copper Beeches without rereading what I wrote so far. Damn.

John was balancing his confusion with his fury. He had felt a wave of relief when his friend had unwaveringly stated it was not in any way coercive, although the teacher/student dynamic had made that highly suspect. Now, he was discovering it was not only coercive, but probably months away from an automatic rape conviction.

"John. I know what you're thinking, John, but remember, this was me." John grit his teeth. Unfortunately, he had no problem remembering that. "I was not your typical thirteen-year-old. I was close to my current height, more or less the same build, already had a knowledge-base stronger than most adults and was actively seeking out new experiences. You can erase your mental picture of a vulnerable teenager."

Barely a teenager, John thought.

"I tried to convince the priest of that, but there was really no point. He kept insisting I had no control over the situation. I couldn't make him understand how it really was...how I am. You know better, though."

The absolute last emotion John had expected to feel when a friend was confiding having been molested was anger at the survivor. He tried to shake it off.

"Of course you were brilliant at thirteen, Sherlock. No one could ever say you weren't. But you were not emotionally mature at thirteen. That is a different type of wisdom. There was a complete lack of balance of power. There is no way you could make an adult do things he didn't want to do."

"He wanted to. I wanted to. People want sex. I wanted to understand that better. Besides, power...control... is, perhaps, overrated in this instance."

John felt an emotion he was at a complete loss to describe. God, once he had longed for something like this. To hear Sherlock Holmes actually talking about losing himself to sexual pleasure, about a lack of control being a very good thing indeed, but it was framed in the context of a thirteen-year-old Sherlock being completely manipulated by an adult.

"How did you meet this complete and utter fucker?"

Re: FILL 5/? Confession (past child molestation)

(Anonymous) - 2014-05-11 11:19 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL 5/? Confession (past child molestation)

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Re: FILL 5/? Confession (past child molestation)

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FILL 6a/6 Confession (past child molestation)

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END FILL 6b/6 Confession (past child molestation)

(Anonymous) - 2014-05-12 20:04 (UTC) - Expand

Extra chapter : Confession (past child molestation)

(Anonymous) - 2014-05-21 11:46 (UTC) - Expand

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