Author's note: Well, schools here were cancelled for the third day in a row due to first bitter cold/wind chill conditions and today for dangerous road conditions, so my kids are home. Makes it a little more challenging to get my proofreading done in order to get this published, but I managed. Other countries like Australia are experiencing almost record highs. Howl's the weather by you?

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Sherlock had had a busy morning, chasing down a criminal. Greg Lestrade had texted him early in the morning to ask if he could come down to the Yard. With the honeymoon officially over and Molly back at work, he really needed to get back into his own work anyway.

With a few deductions, Sherlock was able to discover where the man was hiding out and the criminal was successfully apprehended. So it had been a good morning's work.

Now though, he had some time before Molly got home to read a little more of her diary.

Reading glasses safely perched on his nose, he picked up the volume and went to the point at which he had left off the previous day. Sitting back comfortably in his leather chair, he began to read.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

January

Well, I did it - and I failed miserably. I finally summoned enough courage to ask Sherlock out for coffee. He came into the morgue, asking to see a newly arrived dead body. The man had died of natural causes, in fact, I knew him slightly, he used to work at the hospital until recently as a caretaker. We had spoken a couple times and sadly he had no family. I guess that's why Sherlock was given carte blanche to use his body to do an experiment on. Anyway, after Sherlock asked about the body, he gave me this little grin and said, "Fine, we'll start with a riding crop." I left him to it, but I watched from outside a viewing window. He seemed to rather enjoy flogging the dead man. It was a bit disturbing. I do hope he is not into "that" sort of thing. I quickly put on some lipstick for some "Dutch courage" and headed back into the morgue just as he was done with his weird experiment. I made a joke, asking Sherlock if it was a bad day, but he completely ignored it. Instead he informed me he needed to know what bruises formed on the dead man's body in the next twenty minutes because a man's alibi depended on it. I guess it was for another case.

Anyway, I decided to take the chance, while he was there, to ask him out. I had just started asking him, when he interrupted me with a comment about my lipstick. Okay, so maybe the real reason I applied it was because I was hoping he would think me pretty enough to go out with. Anyway, it backfired - big time. After I answered his question about wearing lipstick, I asked if he'd like to have coffee. His exact response was - "Black, two sugars please, I'll be upstairs." It was so mortifying! The man is oblivious to anything but his work I guess.

Although, when I brought his coffee he did notice I'd taken the lipstick back off. After all, no point in flogging a dead horse, right? Get it? Flogging a dead horse, Sherlock flogging a dead man. Alright, now I am just being silly. Anyway, he made a rather rude comment about my mouth being too small without the lipstick. I was hurt, but I suppose at least that meant he wasn't completely oblivious to me. At least he calls me Molly now. I do like the way he does that. But I should probably just forget about him. Sherlock Holmes is just not interested in me. Actually, the most embarrassing part of Sherlock making that comment about my mouth is that he was in the lab with Mike and some other guy, which made it all the more embarrassing. I wonder who the blonde guy was?

What can I say? I was a self-absorbed arse. That day I was absorbed in the case I was doing. I wish I had paid more attention to you. I think I am going to have to make it up to you and take you out for coffee when you get home. Starbucks is just down the street.

Once again, I am sorry about the comment I made about your mouth. I don't know why I said it. I think I was just trying to show off how smart I was at having noticed you took the lipstick off - but hey, I did notice you, at least. Anyway, your lips are perfect. I love to cover them with my own and feel the way you melt into me when we kiss. You inflame me with your sweet kisses, darling. Oh yes, that was the day I met John, too. I didn't even think about the fact that I was embarrassing you in front of a stranger, that was a Bit Not Good, I know. It's very odd, I think of myself in those days and it is like I'm thinking of someone else, not me. I've grown so much since then. I was a 33-year-old who acted like a child.

And no, I am not Christian Grey from Fifty Shades Of Grey. I am not into physically abusing a woman, especially not you, my beautiful wife. Although, I might give you a love tap on your lovely little derrière sometime. I am more likely to squeeze it though. And those little delectable items we used on our honeymoon were definitely not designed for physical harm, unless you consider feather tickling while blindfolded and wearing velvet handcuffs to be a torment. I quite think I'd enjoy doing that again with you. XOX

February

Guess what? I went out a week ago and got a cat. Yes, despite the fact I have a cat allergy, I love cats. It's okay though, a little bit of antihistamine does wonders to alleviate the allergic symptoms and it is so worth it.

Diary, I can admit to you what I would never tell anyone else - I'm lonely. I persist in having this infatuation with Sherlock, which is never going to go anywhere, but it spoils me from being with anyone else. Every man I meet, I mentally compare to Sherlock. Either he is too short, or his hair is the wrong colour, or it is, heaven forbid, straight, rather than curly. Or the guy dresses too casually and just looks sloppy. Of course, I'm one to talk. I never dress up myself. I'm sure I would look completely mousy against someone like Sherlock Holmes. I should not project these unrealistic expectations on other men, just because I can't have an Adonis for myself. It's not like I'm anything special to look at. As Sherlock said, my mouth is too small. I also don't have a curvy figure that men would go ga-ga over. I know my own limitations.

But I am the way God made me, so I should be happy with that. Sometimes though, I just wish God had graced me a teensy bit more in the looks department. Oh well, back to Toby.

Toby is wonderful and has settled in so quickly at my flat, after the first two days where he hid under the sofa except for when it was time for him to eat or go to the toilet. He sleeps next to me on my bed and keeps me company at night, he is there for me when I come home from work and is meowing, waiting to be fed. He's a tabby cat (hence the name Toby because it is close to tabby). He is affectionate too, I will most likely grow old and be a cat lady, as long as my allergies don't preclude me from having several. I just don't think there is anyone out there for me. Sometimes I wish I had never met Sherlock Holmes, because I've set the bar too high for anyone else to even come close to him. Any other man would need a pole vault to get over that bar, on which Sherlock sits, waving casually at his inferiors. I'm still in awe of his intellect as well as his looks. My heart skips a beat (or three) every time he turns up and I feel myself blush, wondering if I'm completely transparent to him.

By the way, that blonde man, the stranger I mentioned in my last entry, well, he's now Sherlock's flatmate. Sherlock mentioned it, after that case of the serial suicides, which Sherlock determined to be murders instead, was wrapped up. He said the guy is now his flatmate and sort of his assistant. What I wouldn't give to be able to see Sherlock every day like that. I'm a little envious of the flatmate, I must admit.

And here I go again, rambling on about Sherlock, rather than Toby. I'm a mess.

I'm glad Toby was able to comfort you and keep you company. I still feel bad that he ran away soon after my "funeral." I didn't try to make him like me, he just seemed to. I remember him winding his way around my ankles and almost tripping me several times during those days I spent using your flat as a bolt-hole before I left London. He kept sleeping on the bed too - usually on top of me. I guess that was because I slept in his usual spot. I am rather glad we do not like the same side of the bed to sleep on. Of course, most of the time we are pretty much in the middle, when I have you wrapped in my arms at night.

You compared other men to me? Why couldn't I see what was in front of me when you could see what was inside of me? You thought I looked like Adonis? Well, you are my Venus, my Aphrodite - depending on whether you prefer the Roman or Greek word. If I wasn't a Christian, I'd venture to say you are a goddess. Suffice to say, God made you for me. And you are NOT at all lacking in the looks department, by beautiful wife. When you give me that adorable dimpled smile of yours, you make my heart skip a beat or three as well. I'll admit, your crush on me was noted, and you know I used it against you at times, much to my shame and embarrassment now.

You - a cat lady? Never. You're MY lady.

How interesting that you were envious of John being my flatmate. Did I ever tell you when I was showing him the flat, Mrs. Hudson asked if we'd be needing two bedrooms? No idea why she thought I was gay. Perhaps because John was the first person she had seen me interact with besides Lestrade. Thank God she finally got that notion out of her head and knows the only person I've ever wanted to be with is you.

I'm finding this diary very illuminating, reading just how much you cared about me, even if, by your own words, it was an infatuation at first. Now it is an all-consuming love between both of us. I burn for you, Molly, only you. XOX

March

Life has been a bit more fun now that I have Toby, but it is still just routine. I get up, feed my cat, go to work. Then I come home, feed my cat, watch the telly for awhile and go to bed. I do have one favourite tv show I don't like to miss. It's from America and is called, "The Big Bang Theory." It's funny, the title would normally make me shy away from it. After all, I'm a Christian and I believe God created the universe, rather than the one in a million billion to the umpteenth power of it happening by chance. But the show is very funny. Maybe I like it so much because Sheldon reminds me of Sherlock. They even share the first three letters of their name. Sheldon is very socially awkward, like Sherlock - not the best conversationalist. Sherlock is a much nicer name though.

Why do I keep bringing my one-sided conversation back to Sherlock? If he knew how much he dominates my thoughts I'd be so embarrassed. I'd never be able to look him in the eye again.

I just made up a joke.

Q: What do you call a corpse wrapped in a duvet?

A: A dead spread.

Okay, I'm apparently awful at making up jokes.

It is interesting how long you have been watching that show. As I've now watched it at times with you, I have to admit, I too see the parallels between Sheldon and my old self. But even he has softened over the years. And I have beaten him now, I married you first while he is still just engaged to Amy. Next project, make a baby first. Oh, and I'm glad you prefer my name to Sheldon. Sheldon Holmes just doesn't have the same ring. Oh, and I really like the way you say my name, the way it flows from your lips.

Speaking of lips, I want to kiss yours, and I hear you downstairs. I thought your joke wasn't too bad, you're improving, sweetheart. XOX

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock tossed the reading glasses onto his desk, put the diary down and went to the door, as he had done the previous day.

As soon as Molly reached the top of the stairs he took her arm and marched her right back down the stairs.

"Sherlock!" she exclaimed, turning to look at him in bewilderment, "Where are we going? What are you doing?"

"We're going to walk to Starbucks and have that coffee date you asked me for all those years ago," he informed her.

"Oh, you've been reading again," she remarked, blushing a little. "Do you think I was ridiculously infatuated?"

Sherlock linked his fingers with hers as they walked along the street. "Yes, but it was with me, so that's okay. It might have started that way, but it didn't end that way, my darling," he responded with a grin.

They enjoyed their coffee date, looking lovingly into each other's eyes the whole time. Then they walked back home, enjoying the warm day. For once, Sherlock had left his coat at the flat.

"Did you enjoy our little date?" Sherlock asked Molly once they were back inside the flat.

"Of course I did, but you would not have looked at me that way all those years ago," she pointed out, as she watched him lock the door. "This was much more satisfying. Thank you, honey."

Sherlock reached for her hand. "You'll have to read my comments in your diary too sometime. For now though, would you like a glass of water and a headache tablet?"

"A headache tablet? I don't have a headache," Molly said in some confusion.

"Oh good," said her husband silkily. "Then you will have no objection to me doing this."

He kissed her, tasting the sweetness that lingered from the caramel frappuccino she had enjoyed during their coffee date. He then picked her up in his arms to carry off his prize to the bedroom, as Molly laughed the whole way.

Author's note 2: The last few lines of dialogue in this chapter are paraphrased from a commercial I saw many years ago in Australia and thought hilarious. There was an old running joke many years ago that women would always plead a headache if they wanted to put off the loving attentions of their husbands. I have no idea if the younger generation even knows that. It would be interesting if some of my readers would share their thoughts on that. Anyway, I just had to put in the headache thing here from a commercial for Panadol I think (Australian equivalent pretty much of acetaminophen). I thought was really funny. Hope you enjoyed Sherlock doing that to Molly!

Oh and the joke Molly wrote in her diary, I did make that one up!

As you can see, we have reached the point in the diary where I will start including what happens during the series canon. I had to include the Toby stuff after reading Molly's blog, and I tried to fit it into my timeline.