The trio arrived at Baker Street shortly before ten o'clock.
Sherlock unlocked the front door to let Molly in while he and John went to get the cartons of clothes from the car's boot.
Molly immediately went to Mrs. Hudson's flat and knocked on her door.
"I'm sorry we're so late," she apologized to the landlady. "Thank you for the boxes. We got a lot of packing done. Is Rosie asleep?"
Mrs. Hudson showed Molly to the bedroom, where the infant lay fast asleep on the bed surrounded by pillows on each side to make sure she didn't move too far.
"She's so precious," breathed Molly, drifting into a daydream about having a bundle of joy of her own. She longed for a baby and had never realized before how much. She definitely wanted more than one child as well. As an only child herself, she remembered being lonely at times without having a sibling with whom to share her thoughts and dreams. Giving herself a mental shake, Molly caressed the baby's cheek, then picked her up gently.
"I'll take her to John," she told the landlady. Rosie cuddled against Molly, and she breathed in the sweet baby smell.
"I'll get the changing bag," said Mrs. Hudson. The two women exited the ground floor flat just as the men walked in, laden with the cartons of Molly's clothes. The wedding planner and Molly's Bible were balanced precariously on top of Sherlock's stack.
The two men walked upstairs, followed by the ladies. After they had set the boxes down, Molly handed John his sleeping daughter while Mrs. Hudson turned over the changing bag to him.
"Thanks for watching her," said John.
"Oh, she's no trouble at all. In fact, she's less trouble than Sherlock is sometimes."
The trio laughed at Mrs. Hudson's comment.
"Well, Sherlock's my responsibility now," said Molly, giving him a friendly punch on the arm.
Sherlock pretended to be hurt by her words. "Does that mean you are going to just be my babysitter now?"
"I'll be anything you need me to be," promised the pathologist with a wink.
Mrs. Hudson went back to her flat as John said his goodbyes, and Rosamund's godparents kissed her goodnight.
After John had left, Sherlock took the boxes to his bedroom, commenting, "We will have to make room for your furniture between this and the spare room."
"We don't have to worry about the beds at least," Molly informed him. "Both of the beds, the wardrobe and drawers in the spare room came with the flat. It was partially furnished."
"That is fortunate," responded Sherlock. "I had been puzzling over where we were going to fit everything. There is some room for extra furniture upstairs in the second bedroom, but the bed issue was my greatest concern."
"No need to worry any more, then," assured the pathologist. "The rest of the furniture we will make good use of, seeing as you lost most of yours in the explosion." She shuddered, thinking Sherlock could have so easily been killed. It was another miracle that he had survived yet again.
"I think I'm going to go take a shower now," Molly told her fiancé. "I didn't want to wake you this morning, so I skipped my shower. It also made sense, seeing as we were going to be packing things this evening."
"Okay, I'll make us a cup of tea in the meantime. I think I'll take a shower as well after you are finished."
Molly went into into the bathroom and disrobed, then stepped into the bathtub once the water was hot enough for her shower. She decided to use her vanilla black currant body wash, telling herself it was for variety but acknowledging she was hoping Sherlock would comment on the new scent. His reaction to the jasmine vanilla had certainly been a satisfying one. She wondered if he would find this scent intoxicating as well.
With body and hair all freshly clean, Molly stepped out of the shower and realized to her chagrin she had forgotten to bring in any night attire. Wrapping a towel around herself, she tried to dash to the bedroom without being seen, only to find Sherlock in there, holding her chemise and some clean knickers.
"Is this what you're looking for?" he asked in mock-innocence.
"I thought you were making tea," she admonished while she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. It was not a comfortable feeling to be practically naked in front of him. It didn't help that he always looked so darn hot in his suit, and she didn't mean hot in the traditional sense of the word.
"Oh, the tea is ready," said her man. "So did you want these or not?" He cheekily twirled her pants around his finger.
"What has gotten into you?" asked Molly in an irritated tone as she tried unsuccessfully to snatch her knickers from his hand which he dangled out of her reach. That nine inch height difference put her at a distinct disadvantage.
Sherlock backed down then. "I'm sorry, Molly, I was just having a bit of fun. It has been a long day, after all. You know what they say about all work and no play. I thought we were due a little playtime."
At Molly's look of consternation, he added, "Not THAT kind of playtime. Get your mind out of the gutter, Dr. Hooper."
"I wasn't, I didn't think..." stammered Molly.
"Take it easy, my love," Sherlock said. "I was just looking up how to flirt on YouTube while I waited for you to get out of the bathroom."
Molly laughed. "You are too much! I think you've been doing perfectly fine so far. But this is a bit um..."
"Too soon?" He questioned mildly.
"Yes, too soon. I mean we've been engaged for a little over a week, and we still have to get through another nine and a half weeks until our wedding day. If I'm to keep my and your virtue intact, we should probably keep the flirting to times when I am not standing in front of you in a towel and nothing else."
Sherlock pouted. He looked so adorable that she was tempted to throw caution to the winds and throw her arms around him and kiss that pout away. Bad idea, her inner voice of reason told her.
Her fiancé held out her pants and chemise. "Okay, so we leave this flirting to closer to the wedding?" His lips curved in a smile, and she knew he was not in any way annoyed by her hesitance.
"Something like that," she told him, taking her nightwear and disappearing back into the bathroom to dress. When she came out she walked to the kitchen a little shyly. Sherlock was leaning against the counter. She should have put on a dressing gown, but oh well, at least her knickers were on, and she had after all snuggled with the detective in bed while wearing this same nightie substitute.
Sherlock glanced at Molly and said, "By the way, that new body wash smells like heaven on your skin. I would have told you that when I was attempting to flirt with you, but you might have run away or dropped your towel as you raised your hands in consternation at my words. Then, I might have had a hard time controlling my desire for you and ended up compromising your beliefs. So I am telling you this calmly now, in a matter-of-fact manner." He laced his fingers through hers.
"I appreciate that," Molly gave him a loving smile.
They drank their tea, and Sherlock left the kitchen for his own shower while Molly retrieved her Bible and went to what was now their bedroom, rather than just Sherlock's. That was going to take a little getting used to, thinking of it that way.
She made herself comfortable, sitting cross-legged on the bed with a pillow propped up behind her for support.
Molly wanted to look through some Bible passages that could be used for the wedding service, as Pastor Briggs had suggested the previous week. She located her favourite one that was usually used for weddings. It was from 1 Corinthians 13. Then, she found a second passage in Mark, which she decided to read to Sherlock to make sure he was okay with using them during the wedding ceremony.
As she waited for her fiancé, Molly closed her eyes and silently prayed for him. She prayed that God would reveal Himself to Sherlock in a very real manner and that the Holy Spirit would work in his life to draw him to a new life of faith. She opened her eyes only when she heard the connecting door to the bathroom open, then closed them again as the detective entered the room.
He moved to his side of the bed and sat next to Molly. "What are you doing?"
"I was just looking at Bible readings for the wedding ceremony," Molly explained." Pastor Briggs told me on the phone last week that we could choose two for the service. I was just looking them up."
"Whatever you choose is fine with me," Sherlock informed her. "It's not as if I have any reference to go by. I wouldn't know where to start."
"Would you mind if I read out to you the two passages I found in the New Testament?"
"Of course you can, if you'd like. One question, though. Why is the Bible separated into the Old Testament and the New Testament?"
"The Old Testament is a collection of books written by various prophets and other people before Jesus was born. There were many prophecies predicting Jesus' birth, the birth of a Saviour, hundreds of years before he was born. Those prophecies were fulfilled, down to Jesus' birthplace, Bethlehem. It is actually quite incredible how accurate these prophets were. The New Testament contains books written after the birth of Christ. First are the four Gospels, which chronicle events in Jesus's life. The Christmas story, which you probably heard as a child, is in the book of Luke. Matthew also has a shorter account, which shows joseph's side of the story before Jesus is born. That is also where younread about the visit from the magi, or wise men, as people usually refer to them. That visit did not actually occcur when Jesus had just been born, contrrary to popular renderings of the story. It occurred sometime later, closer to two years."
"How interesting. I've heard the Christmas story, of course," agreed Sherlock. "My parents took me to church when I was little. I even believed it until...actually, I don't really know when I started to think it was just a fairytale. Maybe it was because of all the Eurus stuff. I am really unclear about it."
Molly reached over and took Sherlock's hand. "I can understand how that trauma could have caused a disconnect from all things spiritual. I think anyone would question God if they had to deal with a situation like yours. One thing I believe with all my heart, though, is that you can run away from God, but He will never run from you. In your darkest times, He is there. Having that belief has helped me deal with the things in my life, like my dad's death."
She continued, "God is as real to me as you are, even though I can't see Him. I see the result of His work in my life. When I need to be comforted, I can always find words that speak to me personally, whether it's from reding my Bible, or a devotional from 'Our Daily Bread.' I don't want to preach to you, but I hope you will read the Bible and make your own choice. As a detective, you are aware you need the facts of a case in order to make an informed deduction. How can you know the Bible is true or not true unless you read it for yourself?"
"Valid points, my love. I never really considered before how my attitude towards Christianity was coming from a place of ignorance. I merely looked at the generally accepted theories of most scientists rather than considering the opposite viewpoint and making my own choice about it. I can start by listening to those Bible...passages you called them?"
Molly nodded. "Okay. Well, the first reading is from the Gospel of Mark, and it talks about marriage."
She released her fiancé's hand and began to read. "This is from Mark, chapter 10, verses 6 through 9."
"'(6) But at the beginning of creation God made them male and female. (7) For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, (8) and the two will become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one flesh. (9)Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.'"
"I like that," remarked the detective. "It's actually quite poetic, romantic even."
"I think so, too." Molly turned the pages of her Bible until she found the passage in 1 Corinthians. "This one talks about love. It's how I feel about you. It's a bit longer, a whole chapter in fact. It is 1 Corinthians, chapter 13."
"'(1) If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. (2) If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. (3) If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.'"
"'(4) Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. (5) It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. (6) Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. (7) It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.'"
"'(8) Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. (9) For we know in part, and we prophesy in part, (10) but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. (11) When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. (12) For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.'"
"'(13) And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.'" As Molly finished speaking, she turned her head to look at the man whom she loved.
Sherlock's eyes were wide in astonishment, and she knew he had been listening intently. There was silence for a few seconds, and then he spoke, slowly, as if he was trying to find the right words.
"That was...extraordinary. I can understand it in a way now that I could never have understood before. If I had listened to those words a few weeks ago, I would have dismissed them. I regarded love as a failing, a weakness of humanity. I've spent so much of my life being proud of my intellect, feeling myself superior to others. By labelling myself as ahigh-functioning sociopath, I was knowingly inconsiderate of others. I spoke out of turn. I hurt people, especially those I cared for, who forgave me time after time. You forgave me more times than I can count."
Molly leaned her head against his shoulder. "The Bible says you should forgive 'seventy times seven,' so I think you are still eligible for a lot more forgiveness from me." She looked up at him and was quite surprised when her man put his hand gently on her cheek and gave her the sweetest, most tender kiss they had ever shared.
"You are so beautiful, Molly," he choked out hoarsely, with tears in his eyes, "inside and out. I want to have the faith that you have. I think I am beginning to understand. Don't give up on me, my love."
"You know I won't," promised his fiancée as tears gathered in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. "My love for you is unconditional, as is God's love for us. I will never turn my back on you. I will be there for you when you need me and even when you don't. You are my soulmate."
"I feel the same way," said the detective, putting his arm around Molly and pulling her close. "You are my soulmate, the woman I was meant to be with. I guess that means I must believe in God after all. Obviously someone had to have made you for me. It couldn't have been a happy accident."
"I'm so proud of you," said Molly as she slid her arms around him as well. "It's like you are a new man. Your eyes have been opened to new possibilities and you are not running away from them. I can't tell you how much that means to me."
"I guess I will be going to that counselling session tomorrow with a more open mind," said Sherlock. He turned his head to glance at the clock. "Make that today, it's after midnight. Aren't you on early shift again tomorrow, I mean today?"
"Yes," said Molly. "This conversation was definitely worth a late night, though, my beloved."
She withdrew from Sherlock and reached into her lap to retrieve her Bible which she set on the floor beside the bed. "I guess I had better get some sleep."
The couple got off the bed and pulled the covers down. Then, as one, they got into their respective sides of the bed and pulled up the covers. Without thinking about it, they gravitated to the middle of the bed, and Sherlock held her to him as he had done the previous night. He kissed her softly.
"Goodnight, my sweet love," he told her tenderly.
Molly snuggled as close to his warmth as possible, feeling as if she had never been happier. Her Sherlock was changing in front of her eyes. She could see the Holy Spirit working to change his heart, to soften it. "Goodnight, my love," she whispered, while her heart silently said, "Thank you Jesus."
Author's note: There's a heavy dose of Christian content in this chapter. One of the things I want to point out to you, dear reader, is that you can run away from God, but He will never run from you. God is always there, waiting, and He wants to be a part of your life. As Molly explains her faith to Sherlock, her words echo mine.
Sherlock has finally acknowledged that God exists, can I hear an "Amen?"
Read, review, but above all, pray.