Thursday, September 14, 2017

Sherlock opened the door to the flat and waited for Molly to precede him in.

"That was such a lovely dinner with John, Kayla and Rosie," enthused Molly. "I like the idea Kayla had of putting me on the prayer list for safe pregnancy for Sunday and seeing how many people notice."

"She was so happy for us. I have to say, I'm rather amazed that John didn't let the cat out of the bag before we decided to share the news with Kayla as well. Her idea is truly inspired too," agreed Sherlock. "Perhaps you should send an email to Nancy before it's too late to have your name put on the prayer list for this week?"

Molly nodded. "Good idea. I'll do that and then take my shower."

"There's just one thing you need to do first," he told her.

She looked at him questioningly. "What?"

He smirked. "Kiss me. It has been several hours, after all."

Molly laughed and wrapped her arms around him. They had only been kissing for a minute before Sherlock realised he really wanted more than just kisses. His hands traced a delicate path down Molly's body as he pulled her into him more closely, even as he continued to kiss her. "Shall we take this to the bedroom?" he murmured against her lips, even as Molly responded by reaching for the button on his jacket.

For a time they lost themselves in one another and their love. Despite the usual rush of fatigue that followed their lovemaking, Sherlock realised it was too early to actually go to bed, so he reminded Molly to send off the email to church.

"I think I might read some more of your diary while you are doing that and taking your shower," he said, slipping on his dressing gown before heading into the sitting room.

Molly followed him out a minute later, also clad in a dressing gown, his blue one, and grabbed her phone to send an email, while Sherlock found her diary under the coffee table. Where in the heck are my reading glasses this time?

"Molly, do you-?"

"I put them on the desk a couple nights ago, remember?" she interrupted the question, not looking up from her phone. Utterly amazing woman, he thought. She knew what he'd been about to say without even looking at him.

"Thanks, love." He found the glasses and settled them on his nose. Before opening the diary, he said, "I still can't believe we both had dreams the other night that started with John and Mary's wedding reception, and that they both ended up in us getting together by the end."

Molly looked up then and laughed. "Yours was definitely more fun, with me pushing you into the fountain. Plus you had the bonus of having interaction with John and Mary. Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad John and Kayla have each other now, and I do believe God brought them together, but I still miss Mary too. We never really got the chance to be good friends, the way I feel we could have been."

Sherlock sighed. "I know. At least we know she saw something between us when I was still trying to deny my feelings. But your dream sounded rather interesting, the way Mrs. Hudson played matchmaker. We must tell her about that."

"Oh, yes, she will definitely get a kick out of that. Remember, she already thinks she deserves some credit for us being together because of her suggestion that you invite me to the Christmas party a few years ago." Molly chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if she somehow found a way to take credit for me getting pregnant so fast."

"Quite possibly." He rolled his eyes "She will probably say she created the warm summer breeze that enabled us to make love outside on our honeymoon."

"You really think that was the day I got pregnant?" Molly asked him, twirling a piece of hair around her finger thoughtfully.

Sherlock shrugged. "We can't be sure of course, but we did make love twice in that little wooded area, and the timing was right." He recalled with great fondness that lovely day when they had had a picnic then played a little game together that entailed removing a piece of clothing each time they were unable to guess the solution to a lateral thinking puzzle successfully.

"Conceived in the outdoors, quite a story to tell," Molly said with a smile at him.

They lapsed into silence then, each occupied with their own activity.

Sherlock was soon engrossed in the diary.

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

September

I just had the worst day! For the past few weeks I've been getting used to being on my own again, having weekends to myself. I kind of expected to see Sherlock once in a while, but he has been curiously absent, and now I know why.

John and Mary just got back from their honeymoon recently and today was the first time I had seen them or Sherlock since the wedding. Unfortunately, it wasn't a social occasion. John came into work and asked me to administer a urinalysis drug test on Sherlock. I couldn't believe my ears, I thought it was some kind of joke at first. Unfortunately, the drug test was positive. I have to admit, I lost control. Sherlock mentioned to me once during a case that involved a murder victim who had been a drug addict, that he could understand the signs of frequent intravenous drug use because he too had used drugs himself in the past (which was somewhat of a shock to me, I confess, although I appreciated that he felt comfortable enough with me to even tell me about it, it does seem to indicate he thinks of me as a good, trusted friend). Interestingly, Sherlock referred to himself at the time as a former user, not an addict. Personally, I don't think you can really separate the two, but that's beside the point right now. Up until today I had never seen him high and it was really upsetting. The thought of him doing anything that could mess with his brilliant mind just made me see red.

I flew into a rage, told him off for betraying his friends and throwing away his beautiful, God-given gifts. And I did something else bad, honestly, I am getting so violent lately. I slapped him, Diary, three times. They weren't little slaps either, they were meant to sting. I told him to say sorry, as if I was his mother or something.

It's strange, but I remember his words perfectly. He said, "Sorry your engagement's over, although I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring."

For a heart-stopping moment, I thought he meant he was glad because he cared for me. Of course that was silly, though. He just meant the slaps would've probably hurt more if I had still been wearing my ring. But, oh, he didn't retaliate in any other way. He also didn't seem particularly high. By the way he was talking, it seems like he is trying to get the attention of somebody, to manufacture a drug habit. He's treading on thin ice though. Addiction is a cruel monster. I've seen too many people die of overdoses to not realise what a dangerous game he is playing and it hurts like hell to not be able to beg him to keep away from any kind of drugs. I have no claim on him, so I don't have the right to do that, except to make general comments as I did.

And now I've had to make this page blotchy with my tears. Oh, please Lord, be with him, keep him safe and watch over him.

I know this was an upsetting time for you, and I fully deserved those slaps. As you know now, I was determined to get to Magnussen, and at that time it was because Lady Smallwood had asked it of me.

If I am being truthful, that comment I made was also because I was glad you were no longer with Tom. In a way, I felt like we could become closer again and I hoped it would be so. I missed you, Molly. I did resent the fact that Tom had taken you from me, even though I just felt he had taken my best friend away, not realising how truly jealous I was.

I'm so sorry I hurt you, my darling. Yet you prayed for me despite everything. That really blows me away. It is yet more evidence of how unselfish a woman you are and how truly blessed I am to have been the one to win your heart. XOX

September

Oh, dear God. If I thought yesterday was bad, today was ten times worse. I came into work and Mike took me into his office. I was a bit surprised. I had no idea what was going on. I thought perhaps I'd made some grave error with a post-mortem. But it was infinitely worse than that. I stood in Mike's office and he told me Sherlock was admitted to the hospital last night. At first, I thought it was because he'd overdosed, after the incident yesterday, but then, Mike said it was a gunshot wound.

When he said those words, for a moment I was numb, then I felt dizzy all of a sudden, and Mike made me sit down. He told me Sherlock was in severe but stable condition. I asked Mike if I could go down and see him. Mike has always known how much Sherlock means to me as a friend. When he saw how distressed I was, he told me to go and see Sherlock and just take the rest of the day off, which I appreciated.

I went downstairs to Sherlock's hospital room. There was a man coming out of the room and I recognised him as one of the surgeons here, Chris. He recognised me as well, and he volunteered some very interesting information. He was the one who had operated on Sherlock. He told me Sherlock's heart stopped on the operating table. They used paddles on Sherlock with no success, and just when Chris was going to call the time of death, Sherlock's heart started beating again. Chris told me he'd never seen anything like that happen before. Hearts don't usually just start beating again without any kind of external stimulation. I said it was a miracle, and I know that to be the truth. I know God saved him.

When I went into the room properly and saw Sherlock, just seeing him hooked up to all those monitors, and the nasal cannula - it broke my heart. Sherlock is such a vibrant personality, and to see him so pale and unconscious that way, oh, it just made me realise even more how much I love him. I would do anything for him. I don't care what anyone says, God has saved him for a reason, and I pray that one day Sherlock will realise that for himself.

And Diary, I have a little confession to make. Sherlock was unconscious, but I had an impulse to just press my lips against his. He has such beautiful lips, and even though it was one-sided, I have to admit, it felt wonderful. What would it be like to feel him kiss me properly? I wonder. If I feel this fluttering in my stomach when he's unconscious, I can't imagine what it would be like if he was kissing me back. My heart would probably want to burst out of my chest. But I know it will never happen. It's okay though, I'll just try to be his guardian angel, and I'll be there for him whenever he needs me. That will have to be enough.

Oh, now I see the words for myself about the way you kissed me when I was unconscious. Perhaps we need to do that experiment again. Reading your thoughts though, really brings it back to me, and how I am only alive now by the grace of God. You have covered me with prayer for so long, my darling. I am so blessed to know now why I was saved, and that we are together. You were so unselfish even then, not that that surprises me. You were wondering if your heart would want to burst out of your chest if we kissed properly. I know that mine swells with love for you each and every time. You are so precious to me, and I can't wait for you to get out of the shower so I can show you, my sweet guardian angel. XOX

September

My goodness, this is the third day in a row I am writing in you. Well, I went to see Sherlock today during my lunch hour, and this time he was awake, thank God. He had been transferred to a regular hospital room and no longer needed the nose cannula and almost seemed himself. As I was walking along the corridor towards his room though, before I saw him, I noticed someone coming out and we passed one another. She didn't even look at me, so I doubt she was paying attention, and besides, with my hair in a ponytail I don't think I look anything like I did the day of the wedding, but I recognised her immediately. It was that woman from the wedding, the pretty one who I think was flirting with Sherlock, the bridesmaid. I can't tell you how jealous I felt. I wondered why she was there. As soon as I got in the room though, I found out. There were three tabloid newspapers on top of Sherlock's bed. Oh, the horrible, disgusting things they said that implied he had been sleeping with her. I was devastated.

I think Sherlock must've known I was hurting, though. The first thing he said to me was that they weren't true. He told me that he had been seeing that bridesmaid, Janine, to try and get to her boss, Magnussen. Charles Magnussen is a huge newspaper magnate, but he doesn't publish the kind of stories one wants to read, well, at least not the kind that I would be interested in. Apparently, Sherlock's little dabble into drugs was part of his ploy to get to that man. Sherlock told me he got into Magnussen's inner offices, thanks to Janine, who is his personal assistant, and that's where he got shot by some burglar. Talk about bad timing. Thank God the bullet didn't hit any major arteries, I guess he wasn't the greatest shot. It still makes me shudder to think about it.

So yeah, ruse or not, Sherlock has had a girlfriend, and he presumably kissed her, which makes me so jealous even though I have no right to be. Even though Sherlock said the tabloids weren't true, I have to wonder. Janine really is a very attractive woman, unlike ordinary me, and maybe he did actually sleep with her. It isn't any of my business anyway. Well, at least Sherlock seemed happy to see me, and he asked if I'd come visit every day. Of course I said I would. And I will continue to pray for him as well, and his speedy recovery.

It was truly embarrassing for me that you saw those tabloids. I did see the hurt in your eyes. It was so strange having one visitor who was a little belligerent and angry with me, understandably so under the circumstances. But to have my best friend be upset hurt me as well. I thought I made it clear that I didn't sleep with her, but apparently you had your doubts. At least you know now that we were never together that way, and that I never kissed her in the way I kiss you. Kissing her didn't evoke in me the emotions you do. I felt a bit like an actor playing a role. It was just for show. And sweetheart, there's nothing ordinary about you. You are extraordinarily beautiful in more ways than I can count. I think I had better stop reading for now. Thank God you are here with me because I need you, my love. XOX

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Sherlock had just finished writing his comments, when he heard Molly rising in a hurry from the sofa on which she had seated herself with her devotional after taking her shower. A few moments later he heard her bringing up the entire contents of her dinner into the toilet.

He dropped the diary hastily on the coffee table, setting the reading glasses haphazardly down beside it, and immediately hurried into the bathroom, where she was flushing the toilet. Her face was pale when she looked at him.

"That wasn't food poisoning, was it?" he asked, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She looked at him wanly. "If it was, you would be getting sick too, because we shared our Chinese dishes with John and Kayla. That would mean they too would be sick. Are you feeling queasy at all?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not at all," he answered, grabbing a flannel and wetting it before tenderly wiping off Molly's face. "I guess your morning sickness is coming at night now."

"I have a bad feeling that I'm going to have another one of those times where I can't keep anything down. I only just barely made it to the toilet." Sherlock helped her stand.

"In that case, I'm going to find you a plastic container to use so that you don't need to rush to the loo every time. I'll get those Ritz and open up a bottle of lemonade as well right now." He rubbed her back soothingly.

She looked at him gratefully. "Thanks, sweetheart. I'm glad I didn't start feeling sick until after we made love."

Sherlock chuckled and put his arm around her waist, leading her back to the sitting room. "I would certainly hate to think that my skills were lacking in that department to the extent that you would be sick afterwards."

She looked at him. "I couldn't ask for a more wonderful husband or lover for that matter," she said earnestly. "I cherish every moment with you. And this baby," she added, putting her hand on her still flat stomach, "is going to make things even more wonderful for us, even if he or she continues to make their presence felt constantly."

Sherlock got her settled on the sofa then went to find a plastic container, open a lemonade, of which there were several bottles stored already in the fridge for just this purpose, leaving it open to lose some of the carbonation, and bring some Ritz crackers over to her. There was already an open bottle of lemonade which he also then carried to Molly.

Unfortunately, Molly was right about the way she was feeling. For the next two hours, Sherlock hovered around her as she, almost on a twenty minute schedule as had happened before, was sick into the container, whereupon he would dump the contents into the toilet rinse out the container and bring it back to her.

Finally, Molly said, "You should just go to bed, Sherlock. I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight."

"I don't want to leave you by yourself," he protested. He was quite prepared to stay up all night if he had to, in order to take care of her.

"Sweetheart, I'll be fine. I'll come to bed when I'm not feeling sick anymore."

Sherlock hesitated, then looking at Molly's determined expression, capitulated. "All right then, but I am going to text Mike from your phone and tell him you are not going to be in tomorrow. I remember how sick you were last time and how long it lasted. You are definitely not going to be up to cutting up corpses and the like, when you are this ill."

Molly gave him a weary smile. "I guess you're right. I haven't had a sick day in goodness knows how long anyway." She indicated her phone and Sherlock picked it up. She had never changed her passcode which was his birthday, since he had used it months earlier, so he unlocked it easily and found Mike's number. He sent of the text, emptied out another round of his poor wife's meager stomach contents, returning it to her clean again, and finally headed for the bedroom.

His mind drifted back to the diary entries on which she had commented earlier. He couldn't help wondering what might have happened if he had returned to consciousness when Molly had kissed him the day after he was shot. He knew how her kisses affected him now, and he had a feeling it would've been quite interesting. In fact, their very first kiss in the lab at St. Bart's, when he came to her for help in faking his death, which had been a mere brush of the lips, had given him a queer sensation in the pit of his stomach that he had pushed aside. He had been too busy at that time to think about what it might mean anyway - after all, he was trying to figure out a way to actually survive.

In time he fell asleep and began to dream an alternate version of events after their very first kiss in the lab, rather than the one Molly had told him about which took place later.

[You can read about the dream in Falling for the One Who Always Counted.]

He awakened in the darkness and turned his head to see it was five in the morning according to the digital display of his alarm clock. Well, he thought, that had been a very interesting dream. He realised what had woken him too. Molly had just settled herself into bed beside him.

"Feeling better?" he asked her, reaching to pull her close.

"I think so. I haven't been sick for the past hour, so I think the worst has passed for now. I did amuse myself by reading your latest comments in my diary though, while I waited to see if my stomach had settled properly. I must say, I can't help wondering what would have happened if you had actually woken up when I kissed you after you were shot."

Sherlock chuckled. "That's funny, because I was wondering the same thing before I fell asleep. At the same time, though, I was remembering our first kiss in the lab and the way it made me feel. I just dreamed about that, and a very different outcome from it as well. I'll have to tell you about it in the morning."

Molly snuggled into him, and said sleepily, "I can't wait to hear about it, but I still kind of wonder if you would've felt differently about me if you had known I kissed you back then, when you were in the hospital."

"Well, we both seem to have a predisposition towards dreaming, so perhaps we will dream about this as well," he mused.

And indeed, for the second time that night, Sherlock had another dream of alternate events following a time of crisis, even as Molly experienced her own dream.

[Read about Sherlock's dream in A Time to Live, and Molly's dream in The Healing of Physical and Emotional Wounds.]

Author's note: Stand by for a short hiatus of the publishing of this diary as I publish these two dreams which I wrote already at the end of last July/early August. I do hope you will take the time to read those also as I publish them. Neither is an overly long story, Sherlock's dream is only three chapters and Molly's is four chapters long.

So, this chapter deals with Molly's discovery of Sherlock being on drugs, and then of him being shot. This is my head canon of events. What's yours? I am certain Molly had no clue Mary shot Sherlock (in fact, she only discovers that in my original post TFP Journey story.) I don't think Sherlock would have betrayed Mary's confidence that way. Go on, be brave - share your thoughts. Your opinion is just as valid as mine.