Author's note: This chapter is probably what I would consider one of my deepest, and most meaningful ones to date. It addresses some issues that I feel Sherlock has had in the past, and it also addresses a topic that other writers have brought up. I would love to hear from readers with their opinions on the conversations that follow.

The feel of a kiss on her shoulder, and a hand massaging her other one brought Molly to wakefulness. She opened her eyes into the dawn light, just able to make out Sherlock's face as he looked at her. They were still facing one another and his leg was hooked over her legs as if to prevent her escape, not that she would ever want to escape from him.

She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and smiled at him, placing a hand against his chest. "Good morning, husband," she said softly, enjoying the feeling of the word on her lips. He was her husband now, not a boyfriend or fiancé or partner.

"Good morning to you too, wife," he returned, and she felt as much of a thrill hearing him say those words to her in his deep voice, as she found in calling him her husband. Being a wife was the ultimate testament to the love she had for him. Her heart was full of that love. His hand moved from massaging his shoulder to touch her face, and he leaned in to kiss her softly, tenderly on the lips.

She moved her own hand from his chest to slide it around his back and pulled him closer, loving the warmth of his body against hers. That was apparently enough invitation for Sherlock, and he began to kiss her more urgently, insistently, demanding a response from her.

His hand roamed her body, touching her, evoking sensations that left her body on fire at his touch. He pressed his body closer and she responded, inviting him to be with her. They continued to touch and caress one another, kissing frequently even as they made love.

Afterwards, Molly couldn't resist teasing Sherlock as she snuggled in the shelter of his arms. "You told me you weren't a sex machine, but your actions seem to contradict that."

He chuckled, squeezing her shoulder lightly. "Don't you realise it's a new day, my love?"

Her lips curved upwards as she darted a glance at him. "So, you are a machine, then. You just hit the reset button at midnight."

He returned her smile, then bent to give her a peck on the lips. "Oh dear, it seems I have been found out. I am really an artificial construct, an android, like Data from Star Trek. I received my emotion chip at Sherrinford."

She blinked at that. Sherlock - a Trekkie? She herself loved the Star trek franchise, had spent many hours watching marathon sessions of Star Trek - the Next Generation, DS9 and Voyager on weekends during her time at uni, sometimes alone, sometimes with Meena, when her friend wasn't going out with another of her many men friends. It had been a good escape from the constant study of human anatomy and the medical knowledge she was accumulating.

She looked at him curiously. "Now that's something I didn't know about you. You're familiar with Star Trek?"

He placed his hand over hers, where it rested on his chest. "Familiar, yes. Immersed in, not so much. I've caught bits and pieces of the show and films on television over the years, like the emotion chip episode. It's funny, I felt as if I could relate to that, not feeling emotions the way most people did."

His expression changed and turned serious as he gazed at her. "I have a confession to make, Molly,"

She tensed at that, not sure what he was getting at, and her fingers curled slightly beneath his hand as it still lay on his chest. He shifted his position then, moving so he was facing her properly. "It's nothing to worry about, sweetheart. I just want to explain something to you."

She looked at him searchingly. "I'm guessing this has something to do with emotions, seeing as you were just talking about Data from Star Trek."

He nodded, releasing the hold he had on her hand to stroke her face gently. "Yes. I didn't tell you this before, but that night, when I came to you after Sherrinford, I was terrified."

She raised a brow questioningly. "In what way?"

"As you know, all those experiments conducted by my sister were designed to evoke an emotional response from me. The phone call to you and what happened was my breaking point. When I smashed the coffin afterwards, it was like a dam had burst within me. All the emotions I had repressed for so many years, manifested themselves in my actions." He paused and closed his eyes, and Molly could see he was reliving the events of that traumatic day.

He closed his eyes and frowned slightly, and she moved her hand to touch the frown lines with her finger, as if she could smooth them away. Then he opened his eyes and continued.

"After that, what I did to the coffin, I felt so broken, but I didn't cry. That only happened when I realised what had become of my friend, Victor. Yet even then, I didn't have a chance to really process everything that had happened, because I still had to find a way to save John."

Molly nodded her understanding, and waited for him to continue. She was still resting her hand on his face even as he did the same with hers, and he gazed intently into her eyes.

He drew in a deep breath. "The day after Sherrinford, when John came to see me, I told him I didn't want to lose you, and that I didn't want to be your boyfriend. I had stayed awake the entire night thinking about things, trying to determine if I could be worthy of you. In the end, I realised that it wasn't up to me to decide whether I was worthy, and it would not have been fair to deny you or myself a chance at happiness. It had to be your decision. You had already told me you loved me, and I couldn't bear the thought of hurting you anymore by trying to return things to the way they were."

He gave Molly a slight smile, then continued his monologue. "You should have heard John's reaction when I told him I was going to ask you to marry me, because I didn't want to take the chance of losing you. I didn't say so out loud to John, but I was thinking about Tom, and how you moved on with him. I couldn't bear the thought of that happening again." He paused again, to brush a kiss to her lips.

Molly sighed happily. It was amazing that this conversation had not come up before, but it was definitely interesting. She waited for him to continue.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense!" she said, growing impatient when Sherlock's eyes turned distant for several seconds. "What was John's reaction?"

He grinned then. "Patience, my love. I was just trying to recall John's exact words. They were, 'Don't you think you should at least kiss the girl first before you jump off the deep end?'"

Molly giggled. "That does sound like John, and it's true that you were contemplating a big leap. How did you respond to that?"

He chuckled. "I told him I'd make sure to kiss you before I proposed." Then his expression sobered. "But this is what I wanted to tell you. I wanted to kiss you, very much, as soon as you let me into your flat that night, but the thought of it terrified me as well."

"Why?" she questioned, intrigued at the notion he had been terrified about kissing her. "It's not like you haven't kissed a woman before. You did kiss Janine after all, you told me so yourself."

He grimaced. "That was different. They weren't real kisses, at least not in my eyes. I was doing it for a case, rather than being emotionally invested in it, so I was able to justify the action as part of that. It was just pressing my lips against hers, nothing more. I was like Data, going through the motions without actually feeling any physical response."

Molly nodded her understanding, and stroked her thumb along his cheek. "And with me?" she asked softly.

To her surprise, he didn't answer her question directly, but continued his line of thought. "For years, I have avoided physical touch. I never felt comfortable with it. Even those times I kissed your cheek, they were big moments for me, and when I did kiss your lips in the lab, when I needed your help, there was something inside me that wanted the contact, but I was afraid of it. I backed away from it afterwards, and I know now that it was a self-defence mechanism, to protect myself. But when I came to you, I knew that mechanism was no longer in place. I knew when I kissed you, if you would allow me to, it was going to be different, because there would be no going back." He closed his eyes briefly, and she knew he was once again reliving a time from the past.

"When you did kiss me, how did it feel?" she asked gently. She knew that it had meant everything to her. The touch of his lips had been so much more wonderful than she had ever imagined, but she had never really thought about what their first proper kiss had meant to him.

His next words brought tears to her eyes, as he traced a thumb along her lips before responding. "I felt everything, Molly. All those touches and physical sensations I had denied myself for years, those feelings slammed into me when we kissed." He gave her a loving smile. "It was a very – validating moment for me, to know that I could feel, could allow myself to feel with you. And I knew that you were the only one who could have brought me to that place."

Tears leaked from Molly's eyes at his beautiful words. Her voice was thick with tears as she responded, "Thank you for telling me this. It means so much to me to know how you felt that day." Her lips twitched. "Of course, obviously I knew you loved me because you proposed to me, but knowing what was going through your mind helps me to understand even more how difficult it must have been for you to fully acknowledge and embrace the emotions that you had repressed for so long. I love you so much." She couldn't help the note of passion in her voice as she said the last words.

He pressed his forehead against hers, thumbing away her tears. "I love you just as much, my darling." She heard the note of reverence in his voice, as well as passion. Then she realised there was a question she needed to ask. "Sherlock, do you still struggle with the idea of physical contact? I mean, is it hard for you at times to allow yourself to just feel?"

He leaned back slightly, considering her words. Finally he answered slowly. "I think it is still difficult for me sometimes to express things with physical touch with other people." He stopped to kiss her forehead, and continued. "But not with you." He moved his hand to slide it from her face, to her shoulder, and down her arm. "I love touching you, as often as possible, in every way."

Molly's hand moved to curve around his neck, stroking his curls, pressing herself closer. "I'm so glad," she whispered. "Because I love touching you too, and feeling you touch me."

She let out a little gasp as he cupped her bottom and pulled her tightly against him, "We should probably have had this conversation before we made love, because all of a sudden, I feel the need to show you again how much I love to touch you, how physical contact with you is definitely something I crave constantly." He kissed her then, starting with her lips and moving to her throat, giving homage to her sweet curves, drawing out her responses in gasps and whimpers as he caressed her lovingly with hands and mouth. He did not rush in his attentions, as he proved without words how comfortable he was with their expressions of physical contact and everything they did together, and they shared their bodies as indeed they shared their souls.

The light coming through the blinds in the room was significantly stronger as they lay there afterwards, still entwined, trying to get their breathing under control and hearts returning to a normal rhythm, before they would be ready to go downstairs for breakfast.

Sherlock stroked Molly's hair, and after some time she was surprised when he spoke seriously. "There's something I should tell you too that might explain a little why I have those sensitivities to touch, and explain even some of my past behaviour - not that I'm trying to make excuses, of course."

She turned her head upwards to look at him questioningly. "What do you mean, honey?"

"I suppose you are familiar with Asperger's syndrome?"

"Yes of course," she answered, drawing her brows together slightly. "It's the mildest form of autism." She paused for a moment, then seemed to connect his previous statement with the one before it. "You're not saying you have it, are you?"

His lips twisted slightly. "The therapist I was seeing after Mary's death suggested it might be a possibility, when I explained my behaviour to her. I mean, I can understand her reasoning. I know I have a tendency to speak without thinking, to avoid social interactions and the like."

Molly thought about the way Sherlock had acted in the past. He certainly had exhibited a lot of traits that someone with Asperger's might have, but had he presented in that manner even as a young child? Signs of autism were present at an early age weren't they? She kept her thoughts to herself as he continued.

"Anyway, my therapist had me take this test online." He frowned slightly, trying to remember. "It was an AQ test, or 'Autism Quotient' test. The results indicated I had Asperger's syndrome."

Molly shifted to lean on her elbow and look at him seriously. "With all due respect to your therapist, and not to make light of the condition, because I can understand why she might have come to that conclusion, based on the evidence presented to her, but she was not in possession of the facts that came to light afterwards."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "What facts?"

Molly rolled her eyes a little. "Everything that happened at Sherrinford, of course. You told me yourself that the events at Sherrinford provided an emotional breakthrough, that it restored your emotions. Don't you think the trauma from what happened with Victor, rather than having a neurological condition, might be what caused your subsequent behaviour over the following years?"

Sherlock blinked, as if trying to process her words, shifting his own body from his back to face her. "I hadn't thought of that. I've just been assuming, since that time, that I acted the way I did because of having the condition."

Molly decided to verbalise her earlier thoughts. "I guess it is possible, but let me ask you this, Sherlock. Did you exhibit symptoms of anti-social behaviour as a young child, before all that stuff with Victor happened?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "You know my memories from my early childhood are rather hazy, but I don't believe so. Even Mycroft said I changed after Redbeard - or rather Victor - disappeared. He said I was emotional before that."

"And don't forget what that man said in North Yorkshire to us, when we were there a few weeks ago. He said you cried about the fact that Jesus died on the cross, after that Good Friday service when you were a little boy," Molly pointed out, reaching a hand to link her fingers with his.

Sherlock's lips quirked. "So, you think I might be normal after all, just someone who acted the way I did due to outside stimuli?"

Molly frowned at him. "I hate to tell you this, honey, but not having autism wouldn't make you normal in the traditional sense anyway - your high intelligence level isn't that of an average person, so someone could conceivably say you are abnormal because of your high IQ. 'Normal' is one of those subjective terms that really can't be defined. In any case, having autism doesn't make you abnormal, any more than a person with a physical disability is abnormal, at least, not in my eyes. It's a condition that just has to be managed. Remember Chelsea from our wedding reception? She has cerebral palsy and it doesn't stop her from doing what she wants to do, she just lives with it and gets on with her life." She paused and looked at him seriously. "Whether you have any form of autism or not, it doesn't define you as a person, and it wouldn't change my love for you in any way."

Her hold on his hand tightened. "So, you are a brilliant man who happens to have Asperger's, or you're a brilliant man who doesn't. Either way, you're still brilliant." Her forehead creased in thought as she continued. "However, I also think you may have been misdiagnosed by your therapist. You've improved a lot recently in regard to social interactions too. I was proud of the way you handled yourself at our wedding reception, and even when we went on the Eye and had dinner with four other people." She bent forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

He smiled at her. "Perhaps I should find that test online and do it again, just to see whether things have changed."

Molly tugged her hand out from his so she could tweak one of his wayward forehead curls. "You could do that. Of course, the results might still be the same. You've conditioned yourself for many years to be one way as a result of what happened in your childhood, so I have a feeling it would be difficult to know for sure one way or another. I guess my biggest clue that your behaviour stems from trauma rather than a pre-existing neurological condition, is because you don't think you had signs of autism at an early age."

Sherlock looked at her thoughtfully. "I suppose I could ask Mycroft about that. He doesn't have gaps in his memory the way I do."

He spoke matter-of-factly, but Molly could not help feeling sad once again that Sherlock had lost such a lot of his early childhood memories. But then again, she didn't have a lot of them either, just flashes of important events. But Sherlock didn't even have that - no birthdays to remember, no fun times with his family, no memories of his sister either.

After these thoughts crossed her mind, she thought about what Sherlock had said about Mycroft and responded. "I think that's a very good idea." For now, there was no point in debating things, not that it really made a difference to her anyway. Whether Sherlock had Asperger's or not, it wouldn't change the love she had for him.

Sherlock pulled her to himself and kissed her sweetly, then said, "I suppose we really ought to get up now and go downstairs for breakfast."

"I guess you're right, " she responded. Somewhat reluctantly, they rose from the comfortable bed and dressed.

With linked hands they went downstairs to breakfast to find Kara in her usual spot at the small reception desk.

"Had a bit of a sleep in this morning, did you?" she said with a rather knowing smile, and Molly wondered if she and Sherlock had been a little enthusiastic earlier in their lovemaking. She blushed, but then thought, It is our honeymoon after all, so we have nothing to be ashamed of.

Sherlock's hand tightened on Molly's, as if he knew what she was thinking, and he smiled at the other woman. I hope it is not too late for breakfast?"

"Oh, of course not. It's only just gone nine o'clock." Kara smiled at the pair of them.

After breakfast, Sherlock requested a picnic hamper for them again for Friday, which Kara assured them would not be a problem, and Sherlock and Molly returned upstairs to make plans for the day.

As soon as they reached their bedroom, Molly decided the first thing she should do was to brush and braid her hair. She picked up the brush from the dressing table, but Sherlock took it from her.

"Let me," he insisted. Molly smiled at him; she wasn't going to complain about the way he was pampering her. She assumed the same position as she had done the previous day when he brushed her hair, with his long legs curling around her in her cross-legged position. When he was finished he asked, "Do you want to keep it down, or put it in a ponytail?"

Molly turned her head and tilted it towards him. "I thought I'd braid it today. Would you like to do it?"

He smiled. "I could certainly use the practice, but I may need your help again for that extra hand."

Molly went to her toiletries bag and pulled out a hairband, then sat on the bed once more. She noticed that Sherlock was improving in his braiding, he was a little more confident and quicker than he had been before, although he still liked her to hold a piece of hair while he concentrated on doing it correctly. This time he angled the braid so it fell over one shoulder at the end.

Once the task was accomplished, Molly ran her fingers lightly over it. She tilted her head upward and sideways and gave him a light kiss, then proclaimed, "it's wonderful, Sherlock. Thank you."

He smiled at her and said, "Well I guess we should take a look at the brochure now and make our plans for the day."

Molly retrieved Sherlock's reading glasses and the brochure they had received from Kara, and then they sat together on the bed, with Sherlock resting his arm around Molly shoulders lightly, the way he usually did when they sat together.

"We could do the houses of Shakespeare tickets," suggested Molly, as they looked at the brochure. "If we do that today, it can be a Shakespeare day, seeing as we are going to the play tonight."

Sherlock had put on his reading glasses, and he bent forward to read the information. "Looks like I can purchase the tickets online, so I can go ahead and do that."

Molly kissed his cheek. "Thank you, sweetheart. This should be a lovely day."

He turned his head to her and smiled. "Any day with you is a lovely one," which prompted a sigh of contentment from Molly. He was very good at saying the right things.

Sherlock purchased the tickets, and within a short time they were heading out of the B&B to check out Shakespeare's birthplace.

Author's note 2: As I said in the initial notes for this chapter, some pretty deep stuff in this one, which means that my authors note will be longer than usual, so please bear with me.

If you read the whole story of A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage, you will have seen that a lot of this chapter refers to events that took place within that story. The first chapter of that story was from Molly's POV, so here at last you get to see what Sherlock was thinking when he went to see her after Sherrinford. I hope you liked the glimpse into his mind. I have also been wanting to talk about his touch sensitivity for some time - if you notice in the show, he rarely touches anyone, which is why I think those cheek kisses would have been a big deal for him. What do you think about this? Do you have your own thoughts on it?

Recently I have been reading a lovely story by Bekah1218, Fearfully and Womderfully Made, which was written before season 4, where she explores the possibility of Sherlock having Asperger's. I know it is something a lot of writers have written about and considered, especially in earlier stories. I do happen to think it unlikely given the events of Sherrinford. Anyway, I thought it might be interesting to talk about it a bit and have Sherlock consider he might have it himself. I'd really like to hear readers' opinions on it, and whether you agree or disagree with me, or whether you found the way I wrote the conversation to be believable.

As told to me by my ever helpful friend, Ashblood, 'Autism is a developmental disability, and for some individuals it's not so much a disability as a neurological difference, so they might prefer the term Neuro-Diverse or ND for short.'

If I have readers out there who are familiar with Asperger's, I hope you have found that I presented it in a way that helps people understand it a little better.

Incidentally, you can find the AQ test online. I tried to do it, pretending to be Sherlock with my answers (which was at times tough), and my answers seemed to indicate Asperger's. Ashblood also made me aware of something called BAP, which is the Broad Autism Phenotype, where people may exhibit some of the traits of autism, but they are not severe enough to be considered autistic. So another possibility is that Sherlock has BAP. If you are interested in learning more, do a search for the Broad Autism Phenotype. Thanks to Ashblood for making me aware of it. I really try to show things in my stories that will make readers think as well as be entertained, and this is n interesting subject, and something of which I too was unaware. I'm always open to broadening my horizons!

Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter as a whole, in particular those meaningful conversations. Oh, and of course, I hope you liked the more playful Star Trek related conversation. The old Sherlock had a lot in common with Data, in my opinion, don't you agree?