Author's note: my mum just arrived yesterday from Australia, so publishing may be a little more sporadic until after Christmas while she is here. She told me last night that she had the opportunity to go on the Eye during a cruise a couple years ago to Europe and England. Lucky her!
As soon as Sherlock and Molly arrived back at the B&B, they headed up to their room. Molly went immediately to the bathroom to use the loo and wash her face, scrubbing away the tear stains. Crying had certainly not been on the agenda today, but it had been strangely cathartic. Sharing the reason for her claustrophobia, something she had kept to herself for most of her life, had helped to cleanse a wound that had festered for so many years. She had never even told her mother what had happened that day, because she had been so embarrassed. She had also refused to go back to that girl's place again when invited. When her mother had asked the reason why, Molly had just said she didn't want to be friends anymore, and her mother had not pressed the matter.
Molly also felt guilty about laughing over Sherlock's fear of cows. It had seemed so funny, and she had not stopped to think about how insensitive she was being by laughing, until he had turned away from her. She realised they were still learning things about each other, would be doing so for the rest of their lives. There were so many facets to Sherlock she still didn't know, and things she had not shared with him, and she looked forward to doing so.
Molly exited the bathroom so that Sherlock could take his turn, while she extracted the only dress from their suitcase, which she had brought on the off-chance that they would be going out somewhere nice. She unrolled it, and found that fortunately, it was not too creased. It was a dress she had purchased months earlier but had not had the opportunity to wear, sleeveless with a white background and floral print. She was just slipping it on, when Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, smelling of his aftershave and showing a smooth chin once more.
As she struggled to reach the zipper, Sherlock came up behind her. "Allow me," he murmured, sliding her braid out of the way and kissing her neck, before pulling up the zipper. She was facing the mirror on the dressing table and looked at his reflection.
"You look beautiful, sweetheart," he said putting his hands on her shoulders. He had stripped down to his boxers and was not yet dressed. She turned to him and trailed her fingers lightly down his chest. "Thank you. Don't you think you need to put a few more clothes on if we are going to go out for dinner and see the play?"
He gave her a hooded gaze. "Right at this moment, I wish we were not going out anywhere." His eyes travelled a path down her body and she caught her breath. She would have rather liked to stay here herself, but they had plans for the evening. She smiled and stepped away from him deliberately and returned to face the dressing table, searching for the earrings he had given her to wear on their wedding day. Then she remembered that she had put them in her handbag, and walked over to retrieve them. As she put on the airings, she watched Sherlock from the corner of her eye. He only had one pair of regular trousers with him, and he put those on, along with Molly's favourite aubergine shirt, which he had also obviously packed for her benefit.
Once they were both ready they headed out to find a place to eat. Unfortunately, they found that most of the cafés had already closed at five.
"Why don't you check your phone for a fish and chip place?" suggested Sherlock as he drove slowly along a street, peering at "closed" signs.
"Good idea," answered Molly, taking her phone from her handbag and doing a search. "This one sounds promising," she said, giving him the address of a
takeaway place called Tiffin. "It's only a seven minute drive from there to the theatre as well," she commented, after doing a quick search for directions.
Sherlock glanced at her and smiled. "Good work, now if you can just give me the directions from here?"
Molly did so, and they soon reached their destination. Sherlock would have been content to just order chips, Molly knew, but she persuaded him to try the doner kebab which also came with chips. They ate quickly, knowing they needed to get to the theatre. It was past six-thirty and the doors would have already been opened.
By the time they arrived at The Royal Shakespeare Theatre it was already six forty-five. As they hurried in, Sherlock remarked, "I guess we could have eaten here, there's a restaurant."
Molly giggled. "It would have most likely taken longer to eat in a restaurant anyway, so it's probably just as well we didn't try that."
They found their seats and sat, ready to watch the play. As soon as the lights dimmed, Sherlock settled his arm around Molly's shoulders and she sighed with pleasure. She would never get tired of feeling his arm around her.
She was soon absorbed in the play, in the magic of it. Every now and then she cast a glance at Sherlock, who looked just a little bored.
During the intermission they both got up, Sherlock to stretch his legs, and Molly to use the loo. As they walked out, she looked at his impassive face and asked, "Are you - bored?"
"No, no," he assured her hastily, not quite meeting her eyes. She would have questioned him further, but she spied the ladies toilets.
"I'll be right back," she told him, heading into the loo.
When she returned a few minutes later, Sherlock was languidly leaning against a wall, waiting for her.
She walked up to him and took his hand. "So, tell me why you're bored." She kept her tone matter-of-fact, so he would know she was not cross about it, merely curious.
He looked down at her and sighed a little. "You may think me ridiculous, but I find it difficult to understand all that old English. Here I am, able to speak in several foreign languages, but the beauty of old English escapes me."
Molly giggled and squeezed his hand. "I understand. I studied Romeo and Juliet at school, so I know what is going on pretty well. If I hadn't though, I'd probably be as lost as you." She raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Let's go back inside and I'll explain the plot to you a little better before the second half starts."
They headed back to their seats. The people on either side of them had apparently gone out either to use the loo as well, or to get refreshments.
Sherlock obviously noticed as well, because he leaned to whisper in Molly's ear, "May I steal one kiss from my beautiful wife?"
She turned to him with no hesitation, and he gave her a kiss that was probably a little longer than propriety dictated, considering the public venue, but their seating companions had still not returned and she didn't really care. When he drew back from her after the kiss, his arm came around her again and she rested her head against his shoulder, then proceeded to outline the plot of the play for him.
As they watched the second half, Molly noticed that Sherlock seemed more attentive to the play, now that he knew what was happening. She was pleased that she had thought to explain the story for him.
As they exited the theatre with the crowd at the end, she looked up at him. He had immediately taken her hand as they walked out, and she felt him squeeze it before he said, "Thank you for explaining the play to me. I enjoyed the second half a lot better, even if it did not have a happy ending."
She gave him a wry smile. "Well, that was one of Shakespeare's tragedies. He does have some comedies as well though. Didn't you study at least one of his plays in school?"
He pondered for a moment. "Actually, yes. We studied Henry the Fifth. I even had to learn the 'Once more unto the breach' speech and recite it from memory. Reciting it wasn't difficult for me, but knowing what the hell I was talking about with all those obscure, no-longer-used words was another matter entirely." His lips twitched into a half smile. "Of course, that speech is what led to me using my favourite phrase, an updated version of 'the game is afoot.'"
Molly grinned at him. "Oh yes, you love to say, 'the game is on' when you are excited about a case. I bet you sounded wonderful when you recited that speech. One day you're going to have to do it just for me."
He slid a glance toward her, even as he took her hand in his. "Perhaps. I must admit, I do enjoy reading things aloud, and trying to put expression in my voice, but to be honest, English as a subject held less interest for me because I was always immersed in science and mathematics, and of course foreign language. English literature for the most part did not appeal to me – well, except for A Tale of Two Cities. Reading about the French Revolution was rather interesting, and the idea of one man sacrificing his life for another was quite astounding."
They had reached the car and Sherlock opened Molly's door for her before going to the driver's side and getting in.
As he drove, Molly continued their conversation. "It's interesting that you bring up A Tale of Two Cities. The end of that book moved me to tears. But I'm glad they had the little epilogue that showed that his sacrifice was not in vain." She looked over at Sherlock. You remind me of Sydney Carton in a way, in the way you were willing to sacrifice yourself for your friends as well before you jumped off the roof of the hospital."
He slid a glance at her then returned his focus on driving as he remarked, "Hardly the same thing. I wasn't going to the guillotine and certain death in place of another man."
Molly slid her hand into his where it rested casually between them as he drove confidently with one hand. "You may not have actually sacrificed yourself, but you knew the danger, and you could have died. I know that better than anyone."
He glanced at her again and squeezed her hand. "Without your aid, my chances of survival would have been significantly less. Don't forget that you were the one who came up with the idea for Operation Lazarus, which was the one we ended up going with."
"I'm just glad that I was able to make a difference, and that God placed me there for a reason."
Sherlock took his hand from Molly and turned the wheel into the parking lot of the B&B before speaking again. "God did so much for me before I even knew Him, and I will always be thankful that He was watching out for me, and most of the time that was through you." He stopped the car and turned off the ignition, then turned to look towards Molly fully. "Your presence in my life has made such a difference. I don't know where I'd be without you."
She saw the intense look in his eyes. "I don't know where I'd be without you either, my love."
He smiled at her then. "Let me get your door for you," he offered, before exiting the vehicle himself. Molly smiled and waited for him to open her car door. He was such a perfect gentleman. He opened the door and she got out, then they walked inside and up to their room.
Molly stretched and yawned as they entered the room. It had been a long day.
"Why don't I draw us a bath," Sherlock suggested, "and then we can go to bed." The look he gave her made it clear that he was not talking about going to sleep immediately.
She smiled at him dreamily. "Sounds nice."
He headed into the bathroom and she plopped herself on the bed after kicking off her shoes. She'd just lay there for a few minutes while she waited. She heard the sound of the taps being turned on and nothing else until she felt a pair of warm, sensual lips covering her own and she opened her eyes.
Sherlock was bending over her and she could see immediately that he was completely naked and ready for the bath. He caressed her cheek, then tucked a stray strand of hair that had come out from her braid behind her ear. "You fell asleep on me." There was no censure in his tone, merely amusement. "Do you want to just go to sleep?"
Molly immediately sat up. "No, of course not!" she exclaimed. "I was just resting my eyes for a minute."
"Or ten." He smirked at her and she scrambled off the bed.
"Well you could help me out of my dress so we can have that bath," she suggested, turning her back towards him and pulling her braid to the side.
She felt Sherlock kiss her neck again, as he had done before zipping her up earlier. He unzipped the dress and she stepped out of it. She took care of her bra and knickers as Sherlock turned down the bedcovers, and then she let out a little shriek of delight as he picked her up in his arms and strode to the bathroom, depositing her gently in the tub amongst the bubbles. She was surprised to see he had used her vanilla and patchouli body wash to make the bubbles.
She turned as he slid in behind her, resting his long legs on either side of her as they had been on their wedding night. "I'm surprised you used my body wash. Aren't you worried about getting that smell on yourself?"
He picked up a flannel from the side of the tub and began to wash her body before responding. "I thought we have a day in tomorrow, so there will be no one to smell me except you, and I know you like your bubbles."
She gave a contented sigh and relaxed against him, thoroughly enjoying the gentle way he washed her body, until of course he reached those deathly ticklish armpits again and she took the flannel away from him to do them herself, because he was making her laugh too hard with his delicate touch. The process was a little simpler this time, because she didn't need to wash her hair and the braid kept it out of the way.
Then it was her turn to concentrate on cleansing his body, as she turned and rose to her knees to make sure she covered every part properly. His hair didn't need to be washed either this time. By the time she was finished, she knew exactly what Sherlock's intentions were a soon as they exited the tub.
He pulled the plug and helped her out of the bath, obviously remembering her almost fall of the day before. They dried their bodies hastily then dropped the towels onto the floor and Molly giggled as Sherlock picked her up in his arms again to carry her to the bed.
"You have a thing about carrying me, don't you?" she commented, peering up at him and grinning.
His hold tightened slightly. "Guilty as charged. I like having your body close to mine that way." Then he quipped, "Anyway, you are ridiculously easy to carry, so either you are very light, or I have the strength of Data and am more like the android than I thought."
He laid her gently upon the bed, and she looked up at him. "Actually, I think you are less like Data and more like Spock - or at least you were like Spock."
He laid himself on the bed beside her, then raised an eyebrow, "Go on."
"You do know who I'm talking about don't you?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. "Pointy-eared Vulcan, talks like an android. Doesn't express his emotions." She saw comprehension dawn on his face. "Ohhhh," he said slowly. "He always suppresses any form of emotion in favour of pure, logical thinking."
"Yup," agreed Molly, stroking his cheek, "sounds like somebody I used to know." Then she added, "You were more like the classic Spock, though. In the re-boot films, he is in a relationship with Uhura."
Sherlock drew his brows together. "I must admit, I have not seen the most recent incarnation of Star Trek."
Molly grinned. "Oh, you should definitely see the films. We'll have to buy them on Blu-ray. There's a guy in the second film who plays Kirk's nemesis, Khan, who I swear is a doppelgänger for you, if you pulled your hair back and wore it shorter. He even has the same eyes as you."
Sherlock pursed his lips. "Enough of this conversation about other men. It's time to concentrate on us." And with that conversation decidedly ended, his fingers tugged at the elastic band keeping Molly's braid in place. "I want to see your hair loose," he told her, removing the band then using his fingers to separate the strands of the braid.
She loved the feeling of his hands in her hair, and he threaded his fingers through the waves created by the braid afterwards, as he held and kissed her. Her own hands came around his neck to tangle in his curls, luxuriating in the feel of them.
For several minutes they just kissed, savouring each other, allowing the flames to build between them as kisses became more demanding, more ardent. Then their hands and mouths moved to more sensitive areas, teasing and thrilling their senses, as they delighted in one another.
And when those kisses and touches were no longer enough, they joined as one, feeling the ultimate joy of their union, riding and cresting those waves of passion together, before returning to earth.
Sherlock reached down to pull the sheet and duvet up over them and then tucked her body into his in the spooning fashion they had adopted during their engagement. He swept her hair aside to brush one last kiss against her shoulder, then settled his arm over her, and they slept, feeling the deep contentment of their close contact.
Author's note 2: Ah, Romeo and Juliet. I must confess, I have never read the play myself, although I have sung in the opera version of it. Are you a Shakespeare fan? Have you read any of his plays? I thought it would be fun to show Sherlock a little out of his depth when it came to understanding the play. I find it hard to understand Shakespeare's English myself. I had to say he studied Henry V in school though - that is what he is quoting the speech from during TLD. It wasn't until I read the entire speech online, that I realized it contains the term "the game is afoot." How clever of the writers to use it, don't you think?
I have to give credit to my readers Scifibookworm and Ashblood for their comments about Sherlock being more like Spock than Data, which led to me inserting that conversation between Sherlock and Molly. Having done that, I couldn't resist the opportunity to mention Khan, which of course is the role Benedict Cumberbatch played in Star Trek: Into Darkness. I love incorporating the thoughts of readers when I can do so in a way that makes sense, so hopefully I achieved that here.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter.
