"You're seriously going to this much trouble for a double murder?" John Watson leaned back into the red living room seat and watched his friend, Sherlock Holmes walk around, patting down his clothing and turning to John, revealing his all black clothing, which wasn't much different from what he already wore, with a single white block near his neck. "You're going incognito as a priest for this, really?"

"This has been the most interesting case we've picked up in months, John. I'm willing to go all out to make it more fun than it already is." Sherlock replied sharply, his fingers hooking over the clerical collar and adjusting it so it rested nicely on his neck. John rolled his eyes and indulged himself back into his newspaper, letting the crazy detective do what he wanted.

"Just… don't do anything stupid." John warned as he flipped a page and saw Sherlock slipping on a black blazer.

"Since when do I do anything stupid? This double murder is amazing, a priest and a regular church goer killed in the confessional booths, both through drug intake but a drug that isn't even available in England."

"Maybe it was just like a double-pact suicide Sherlock, you know, crazy Father and weak-minded confessor, forgiving their sins through giving themselves to God and the Father took himself too." Sherlock sighed impatiently and pushed himself into his clean and shiny black shoes heading for the door.

"Don't be stupid, John. It's never that simple." The detective smirked and headed out of the room and out of the building, leaving a flustered John reading his paper.

Sherlock flagged a taxi and clambered in quickly and told the driver to head for St. James church, where the crime took place. Sherlock gazed out the window as the taxi drove around the street and played the information he had in his mind so far from hearing about this murder. He couldn't help but crack a small smile when the excitement of it bubbled through him.

"We're here." The driver said, kicking Sherlock back into reality. He passed money over and jumped out, the church eye-catching and beautiful to look at with the large spiral and breathtaking stain glassed windows. Sherlock scanned it quickly and headed for the door, pushing in straight away and seeing the place was empty.

He headed down the long aisle through the pews and examined the stunning decoration and detail played into the church, which Sherlock always admired. When he got to the altar he heard a faint thudding of shoes in the silent building, the sound building behind him.

"Can I help you?" An American voice rang out behind him; Sherlock quickly turned and shot a smile, the man in front of him smiling too. Sherlock flicked his eyes over him, his hair in a gelled comb over, sharp blue eyes and light stubble, probably not shaved for 2 days or more.

"Ah yes, I'm Father Holmes. I'm the new priest that applied here in place of the recently deceased Father Shaw." The other priest nodded and stuck a hand out, shaking it heavily and smiling weakly.

"Father Shaw was a great man, I don't understand why… This would happen to him… I'm Father Misha Collins by the way."

"An American in a British church?" Sherlock eyed the Father again, taking in his whole figure, his body language and movements. Misha nodded slowly.

"Yup, I just prefer England to America. Nicer people, places and churches. I had the money so I moved over; I loved England since I was a child. I've been here for nearly 13 years now." Misha smiled a little bit more and walked past Sherlock. "Now, follow me, Father." Sherlock nodded and followed behind quietly, the echoing of their footsteps filling the silence. The detective continued to gaze around the church to find anything to stand out to him, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

"These are the offices; I hope you don't mind having Father Shaw's so soon after his death." Father Collins frowned again and sighed. Sherlock stood silently looking at Father Collins and then noticed he was meant to speak.

"Oh right, yes, thank you, I don't mind." Sherlock blurted out and smiled quickly before heading back into the main part of the church, the other Father following him. "So what do I need to do?"

"Nothing for now, can you stay in the confessional booths?" Father Collins asked, his hands fiddling with a small cross hanging from a gold chain around his neck, Sherlock shrugged and nodded, heading into the booth and began to look around in it.

His eyes taking everything in, knowing this was the place the priest was when he took the drug and died alongside the confessor. He soon moved into the confessors side and had a look around too, knowing there was no way the drug was given to her unless she went into the other side of the booth and retrieved the drug off the Father himself, took it, let her die then dragged her into the other side before killing himself, which would have been effortless and unneeded since he was going to kill himself anyway.

Sherlock sighed and headed back into his side of the booth, throwing himself onto the bench and running his hands over his face. A few minutes later, he heard footsteps and someone moving into the other booth.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned, it has been… 5 days since my last confession." The woman's voice softly said, Sherlock darted his eyes not really knowing what to say, he leaned on his thighs and closed his eyes slowly.

"Confess." Sherlock said, the woman shuffled slightly and paused for a moment.

"I cheated on my husband, with another man from the neighbourhood, it wasn't meant to happen, we were drunk, I was in an unhappy relationship with my husband and it sort of happened…" Sherlock sighed again and opened his eyes sharply, his body turning slightly to talk to the woman.

"You lied about being here 5 days ago, this is your first confession ever, I'm guessing the man you cheated on was a Christian so he pretty much shoved you in here telling you to confess for your sins and if I sit here long enough he'll be in soon after spilling what you did but he'd actually feel sorry for it. Instead, you don't, you don't really feel that guilty since you said yourself, you're unhappy in your marriage and you're just glad to get out of there whether it was fucking the next door neighbour or just up and abandoning him." Silence dropped like an anvil and it hit the woman hard, she sat there in shock, her body frozen and her mouth partly open in shock.

There was a brief noise of movement and then a speedy clicking of shoes up the aisle. Sherlock laughed lightly to himself and then looked down at his clothing, forgetting what the hell he was doing here and cursed, getting caught up in his analyzing habits again.

"Father… Holmes?" Misha called out, opening the door to Sherlock's side and throwing a puzzled look at him and then looking to the door where the woman ran out. "Why did she…?"

"Probably to go drop her pants to another man." Father Collins snorted back a laugh and coughed to regain himself; he straightened himself and leaned on the frame of the booth door.

"You're not meant to reveal that sort of information, Father Holmes." Misha said seriously and watched a smile of Sherlock's face being bit back by an equally serious nod. "…People are saying what happened to Father Shaw was murder…" The priest suddenly spilled out, he shook his head and tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

Sherlock paused himself and gazed at Misha's face, taking in the emotion on his face before realizing that Misha was staring straight back at him, making Sherlock divert himself immediately.

"I see." The detective quickly said, beating back the reddening of his cheeks. He shook it off in his mind and got up from the booth, moving past the priest and back into the brightness of the church. "I cannot pass judgement on that." Misha nodded to himself in agreement and followed Sherlock as he moved.

"Can we have a word?" Misha asked, nodding his head towards the offices and started moving towards them, waiting for Sherlock to follow. Sherlock cocked his head and pulled at his priest collar, his eyes involuntarily drifting down to Misha's ass, watching it move hypnotically.

Shit. Thought Sherlock, he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, he didn't know what his mind was doing but it was nothing good. Sherlock Holmes didn't do feelings and romance, he barely knows the priest who is for one, a man and two, a fucking priest.

"Please, sit." Misha directed Sherlock to the chair opposite to him at the desk, he seated himself and Sherlock gazed around the room briefly before returning his attention to the other man. Misha locked the door to the office secretly and seated himself. "You're not an ordinary priest." Sherlock shrugged and leaned forward on his chair, his hand resting on the desk.

"Of course not, I'm a super priest." Sherlock smirked and watched Misha raise an eyebrow at him before he matched Sherlock's sitting position, his hands rested on the desk.

"Let us not mess around Sherlock Holmes." Misha said, a small smirk of his own spreading across his face, Sherlock's face dropped a little but his body remaining completely still. "I recognise you from your friend's blog."

"A fan are we?" Misha laughed and nodded his head a little.

"We could say that." The priest added in quickly, his body slowly lifting from his seat and walked around the desk slowly and stopped behind Sherlock's chair, his hands resting on the detective's shoulders. "You have an amazing mind." Misha whispered, his face appearing beside Sherlock's.

"And don't think I didn't notice you watching my ass on the way in here, Father Holmes." Misha whispered again, his breath brushing against Sherlock's ear, his eyes fluttering slightly. Misha smirked and moved a hand from Sherlock's shoulder, drifting over his chest and resting on Sherlock's groin. Sherlock gripped onto the handles of the chair and watched Misha's hand move down.

"You're a priest, you shouldn't be doing this." Sherlock pointed out but Misha shrugged and rolled his palm over Sherlock's crotch, hearing a hitch in Sherlock's breathing.

"I'll confess myself to you later for my sins." Misha moved his lips to the top of the shirt collar on Sherlock and began to kiss and lick along the throat, his palm continuing to grind over the fabric, the feel of Sherlock hardening fast under his touch. "I feel you're enjoying it…"

"Stop…" Gasped Sherlock, resisting the urge to buck his hips up with his nails digging deeper into the arms of the chair. Misha quietly laughed and used his other hand to slip a couple of fingers into Sherlock's mouth.

"We don't need that kind of input from you, Father." The priest rubbed his fingers along Sherlock's tongue, making it move and begin to circle and slide through the fingers, wetting them and Sherlock lips slowly closing to suck on them. "Hmm…" Misha quietly groaned out, his fingers moving back and forth slowly and his palm moving back up, his fingers trailing over the outline of Sherlock's erection in his trousers.

"Let us get you out." Father Collins hummed to himself and zipped Sherlock's trousers down and fingered his way through the opening of the boxers, his fingers running over the length of the cock before pulling it through. He heard Sherlock hiss beside him, the contact sending his hips upwards and thrusting into Misha's hand. "Eager too…"

Sherlock groaned against Misha's fingers and let his eyes flicker at the feel of Misha's nimble fingers wrapped around his cock. The priest smiled and began to move his hand quickly, his own hips bucking forward and grinding against the back of the chair, finally giving his own hard-on some much needed friction, a small moan leaving his lips.

"I need…" Misha groaned, removing his fingers from Sherlock's mouth and rubbing them against his own covered erection, small grunts of pleasure passing along Sherlock's ear from the priest.

"Need…?" Sherlock panted out, the hand around his cock still swiftly moving, the feeling of precome already starting to slip over the head of his dick and dripping onto Misha's hand, the movement being made smoother and his moans becoming hard to bite back.

"Pleasure, my dick, just suck." Misha hissed out, backing himself away from Sherlock and moving to the front of him, a leg either side of Sherlock's hips. The detective stared a moment at the bulge in his face and eventually tore his nails from the arms of the seat and pulled away Misha's trousers.

Sherlock hesitated before feeling a lock of his curled hair being tightly grabbed and his face pushed forward into Misha's boxer covered cock, a small groan leaving the priests lips. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and began kissing along the shaft of the boxers, his tongue beginning to run along it instead.

"Yes." Cried out Misha as the feel of the elastic of his boxers being tugged away and pulled down. The cock straining out and the tip touching Sherlock's lips, which automatically opened and swallowed the length down as far as he could go and pulled back, sucking on the head and flicking his tongue over it. A loud pleasurable hiss passed the priests lips.

"I wonder what people would think of me, the elusive Sherlock Holmes, the genius consulting detective, sucking my cock." The detective made a scoffed laughing noise and pulled his lips away.

"Don't make anything big of it, Father." Sherlock smirked and snaked his hands to Misha's ass, spreading the cheeks a little and pushing a finger against the hole. "You want it?" Misha bit his lip and nodded, his legs moving outwards, spreading himself a little more.

Sherlock moved his lips back to Misha's cock, kissing and stroking with one hand whilst pushing a finger into his ass with the other, Misha bit his lip harder from the weird feeling but mixed in pleasure from the detective's lips around his dick. He felt a second finger push in and move around, stretching him slowly.

"Shit." Misha cried quietly, his hands gripping onto Sherlock's hair and tugging slightly, his back arching into Sherlock's mouth. "Take… me." The priest panted as he felt the fingers pull of his hole and move one onto his hip and the other holding his cock.

"Lower yourself." Sherlock whispered, using his hand to guide the priest, Misha slowly placed himself down and felt the head of Sherlock's cock penetrate him slowly, hisses and groans pushed out from Misha until he felt himself filled completely.

"Oh, dear God." Misha leaned himself forward and wrapped his hands on the back of Sherlock's neck, his lips meeting Sherlock's briefly as he pulled away, tugging on the detective's bottom lip teasingly before letting it go.

"A blaspheming priest?"

"A priest fucking a detective pretending to be a priest?" Misha retaliated with a cheeky smirk, his fingers running through the bottom of Sherlock's hair and his hips beginning to rise. Misha forced himself back down, the sound of skin hitting each other echoing in the room, followed by grunts and groans of the men, their grips on each other substantially tightening.

Their bodies moved and ground together in passion, Misha rode him hard whilst Sherlock fucked upwards, both trying to get the detective deeper into the priest. As Sherlock's cock grinded over Misha's prostate, the cries from the priest made Sherlock impossibly harder, the noises the man made drove the fake priest crazy.

"I'm going to come…" Misha moaned, a hand moving from Sherlock's hair and wrapping around his own cock, a thumb running over the head and slicking himself with his own precome, his hand moving furiously, his grunts and cries muffled into Sherlock's neck. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Misha screamed as he came over his hand, his chest heaving rapidly, and his eyes flashing over in white, his ears ringing from the rush of euphoria flooding through his body. Sherlock swore under his breath and pulled the priest off of him, suddenly coming over the other mans back without even realizing, his back arching as he came.

"Bloody… fuck…" Sherlock lazily groaned out, his hands lifting Misha's face from his shoulder, both of them smiling to each other, still catching their breaths. "Exquisite…" Misha hummed in agreement and eventually moved himself off the detective.

Both of them steadied themselves and eventually straightened and dressed themselves until they looked normal and all holy again. Misha adjusted his hair and leaned against the desk, watching Sherlock gather up in his head what the fuck just happened here.

"I know why you came here, Sherlock." The Father piped up as he pushed himself away from the desk and headed towards the detective from behind. His hands sliding over Sherlock's hips and his chin resting on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Really?" Sherlock turned his head a little and watched Misha smiling beside him.

"Yes. You came here because you thought that Father Shaw's death was a murder." Both of them stood in silence for a while, Misha leaned back a little and moved his lips next to Sherlock's ear. "Know how do I know that?"

Sherlock gulped, his eyes closed and his body tensed, "How…"

"Because, I killed them." Misha smirked and blew softly against Sherlock's ear, Sherlock's face scrunched up and his brow furrowing.

"No." Sherlock whispered, his throat tightening on him.

"Yes."

"No, no, no, no!" Loudly hissed Sherlock as he pushed the priest off of himself, his eyes scared and wide. Misha rolled his eyes and leaned himself back against the desk as he crossed his arms.

"Who would of thought of the heartbroken little priest who praised Father Shaw for everything he did and the fact you've fucked a murderer, Sherlock." Sherlock glared at him, his body tensed and rigid, Misha cocked his head and stared at him with his wide blue eyes. "You're not angry at the fact that you fucked a killer, you're angrier at the fact you didn't get to work it out for yourself, and the fact I told you."

Misha sighed and moved himself off the desk once more and stood facing the detective, his hard eyes digging into the Fathers.

"My dear Father Holmes, forgive me for I have sinned. I murdered two people with illegal and foreign drugs, and then I lured the amazing Sherlock Holmes into my church, accidently gaining the affection for him and fucking him senseless on a chair in my office." Sherlock stood in silence again, his body barely moving until his arms lurched and threw Misha against a wall, pinning him there.

"Why? What was your motive?" Sherlock spat out, his eyes constantly moving in anger, his arms shaking but Misha just stood and smiled, a loose hand reaching up and softly brushing along Sherlock's cheek and whispered,

"You."