Author's note: So, this is the longest chapter yet! Hope it was worth the wait. Just a heads up that I have a very busy time coming up over the next several weeks with my daughter's high school graduation party next Saturday and my sister from Australia coming for a visit until early August. This means I will probably only get one chapter of this published per week along with one chapter of my next story in my "Realizations of Love Dreams" series. Perhaps it will give some of you an opportunity to try out some of my earlier stories and comment on them. One can only hope!

As they sat together in the taxi, Molly was very aware of Sherlock, of the fact that they were alone and the case was over. She wondered if Sherlock still wanted to talk with her, recalling the words he had spoken the previous day to their unborn child.

"Daddy's going to catch a killer, and then he's going to talk to your mummy and figure some things out."

She cleared her throat, feeling the extended silence between them becoming awkward.

"Would you tell me what happened yesterday after I examined you?"

Somewhat surprisingly, he did. He told her about watching Culverton Smith poke fun at his serial killer allegations by filming a cereal commercial and saying the line, "Did you know I am a cereal killer?"

Then Sherlock went on to explain his visit to the hospital, a wing of which was named after Culverton Smith, to talk to some children.

he looked at her. "I'm afraid I really wasn't in any condition to be speaking to children, but I did it at Smith's insistence. I kind of messed up my stories a bit."

Molly looked at him suspiciously and folded her arms. "Did you shoot up again beforehand?"

He gave her a guilty look. "I needed some Dutch courage to face the kids." Then he added hastily, "and it was no picnic listening to Culverton Smith taunt me by asking how I catch serial killers."

She sighed. "Oh, Sherlock. Please tell me that was the last time you injected yourself with those poisons."

"It was, Molly." He leaned towards her, but at that moment the taxi pulled over to the kerb. "I guess I'll tell you the rest when we get upstairs," he told her.

Once they were in the flat, Sherlock sat in his chair while Molly sat opposite him. She observed the tremors in his hands, indicating he was suffering withdrawal although he showed no other outward signs of it.

"So what happened after you spoke to the children at the hospital?" she questioned.

Sherlock winced slightly and adjusted his position. "Oh, Smith wanted to show me his favourite room in the hospital." There was a twist to his lips as he continued. "It was the mortuary. You should've heard the things he said, Molly. He was basically confessing without actually doing so, putting everything into a hypothetical situation."

Molly suddenly remembered something she had heard on the news report from Culverton Smith's own lips the previous night and gasped. "Sherlock, on the news last night, when it was reported you were in the hospital and Culverton Smith was being interviewed about it, he said he didn't want to press charges and that he was a fan of yours." She swallowed. "He…he said he might even move you to his favourite room."

"The mortuary," Sherlock breathed. "Well, he certainly planned to do that."

Molly bit her lip. "Sorry for interrupting. Please go on with your story. I want to know everything."

Sherlock looked at her and nodded. It felt good to know that he was willing to tell her everything. It showed he still cared about her, even if only as a friend. He told her about the woman, Culverton Smith's daughter who entered the mortuary. She had been the client who had alerted Sherlock to her father's activities, only it wasn't the same woman. Sherlock's face clouded as he said this, and he ran a trembling hand through his hair. "I still can't figure it out, Molly. I guess somehow I must've hallucinated things? It just doesn't make sense."

Molly could see he was beginning to become agitated, so she pressed him to continue on with his story.

His brow furrowed. "This woman was saying she had never met me, and Smith was laughing at me. I don't know, somehow I became convinced that he had taken a scalpel, but instead I was the one with the scalpel. God, Molly, I was out of control. That's when John wrestled the scalpel away from me. And then, well, John went ballistic and beat the crap out of me."

Molly's eyes widened in shock. Righteous indignation on Sherlock's behalf filled her and she exclaimed angrily, "John did this to you? Why on earth would he be so aggressive towards you?" She looked again at the stitches by Sherlock's eyebrow. By the way Sherlock was moving uncomfortably, she suspected his ribs might be bruised as well.

Sherlock's lips pressed together. "Because I deserved it. Because I killed his wife and he agreed." She suddenly noticed his eyes were filling with tears and one trickled down his cheek.

She stood then and walked over to Sherlock's chair. Without conscious thought, just knowing she wanted to comfort him, she sat on the edge of the chair and put an arm around his shoulders. "Sherlock, you didn't kill Mary. She made her own choice to take that bullet for you. You must stop holding yourself responsible for that." Impulsively, she reached her free hand out to brush the curls from his forehead and kissed it.

Sherlock gave a shuddering breath. "John told me the same thing today, that it wasn't my fault. But I still feel guilty, Molly. Rosie is still without a mother and John is without a wife because of me."

"Oh, dear God, I'm so sorry, Sherlock. But you have to understand you didn't ask her to save you."

Sherlock suddenly pulled her onto his lap and buried his face against her shoulder. His voice was muffled as he said, "Today I told John that in saving my life, Mary conferred a value on it and that it was a currency I did not know how to spend."

She stroked his curls, feeling the wetness of his tears at her neck. "Well, I know she wouldn't want you to be unhappy for the rest of your life. What would be the value in that? Let me help you, Sherlock." Her own eyes were shining with tears by this time. She had to make Sherlock understand.

He pulled his head back then and looked at her searchingly. "I pushed you away because I felt guilty and felt that I didn't deserve you. Perhaps I still don't, but I realise I do need you Molly, more than anything."

"I'm here for you, Sherlock." And with that, his lips found hers and she closed her eyes, feeling the desperation in his kiss, the need for comfort. Her skin tingled at the roughness from his stubbled skin, and in the back of her mind she decided she much preferred it when he was clean-shaven, even if he did look incredibly hot with that stubble. Nevertheless, she gave back what he sought, letting him know without words that she would be there for him.

When their lips parted, he touched his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry for everything, Molly. I don't know why you put up with me."

In her heart she said, Because I love you, because I've always loved you. Out loud, however, she said, "Because I care about you, Sherlock. I think you're worth saving."

He stiffened suddenly and pulled back. "Don't say that, Molly. I would never want to see you sacrifice yourself for me the way Mary did."

"Well, I was talking about saving you from yourself and supporting you, but I hope we wouldn't get into any situations like that." She looked at him searchingly. "I still want you to be part of Victoria and our new baby's life, you know."

Sherlock's eyes drifted downward. "I've been thinking about that. I want you to know that I've changed my mind. I do want to be there for you, Victoria and our baby. I know I shouldn't be asking this and God knows I wouldn't blame you if you just wanted to walk away from this mess that I've created, but can you give me a little more time to sort things through? I need to get clean and I need to work on my friendship with John. Our restored friendship is a tenuous one and I don't wish for him to feel betrayed again by announcing out of the blue everything that has happened between you and me and the fact that we have a daughter and another child on the way. It would just come as another betrayal to him." He closed his eyes briefly then opened them again." I should have listened to Mary. She told me I should just tell John and I refused. God, I'm so good at messing things up."

Molly reached out and linked her fingers with his. She could feel again the slight tremor that indicated his body was still suffering from withdrawal. "We still have a little time before I really start to show. If you need some time to get things back to normal, I'm prepared to wait. Just don't disappoint me again, Sherlock. I don't think I could take it."

He pulled his hand away from hers, and for a brief moment she thought perhaps he was going to decide once again to push her away. But then she felt his hand against her belly, caressing it in much the same way he had done the previous day." I told you that I wanted to be there for your scan. Did you schedule it yet? Can you put it off for a little while?"

Molly sighed. "I had it already a few days ago. Everything's fine, by the way."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he said sincerely, looking somewhat disappointed. "Did you find out if we are having a boy or girl?"

Molly shook her head. "No. The baby kept its back turned. Even some gentle jiggling on the part of the technician on my belly didn't yield any results. So I guess it will be a surprise."

"Does Victoria know yet that she is going to be a big sister?" he enquired. His hand was still resting on Molly's belly and suddenly she felt very aware of him and that she was sitting on his lap. Hastily she slid off his lap and retreated back to John's chair.

"I haven't said anything yet. I was hoping things would be settled between us first," she admitted, blushing slightly.

Sherlock nodded his understanding. "Speaking of Victoria, where is she? She has apparently not been with Mrs. Hudson lately."

Molly twisted the end of her braid around her finger. "How do you know she hasn't been staying with Mrs. Hudson?"

"For one thing, she wasn't with you today at the cake shop, nor with Mrs. Hudson. In addition, I don't know for sure prior to yesterday, but Mrs. Hudson was obviously not watching her if she was able to drive me in the boot of her Aston Martin to that address I told you about."

"I've been using the services of a child minder because Mrs. Hudson said you've been behaving erratically, and I didn't want Victoria exposed to that." Then she registered the second half of what Sherlock had said and looked at him in astonishment. "That red car belonged to her? And she drove you there in her boot?" Suddenly she burst into laughter. "Oh, that must've been a sight to behold!"

Sherlock folded his arms, looking offended. "It was no picnic, Molly. She handcuffed me first. Could've killed me, driving like a maniac as she did."

Molly laughed again. "Oh my gosh, Sherlock. You've survived so many times from things that should have killed you, jumping off a roof, gunshots. An ignominious death in the boot of a car would have been a truly awful, unromantic way to go."

Molly laughed for another couple moments as Sherlock continued to look affronted, then she sobered suddenly. "You'll have to tell me more about that sometime, but you still haven't told me how you ended up exposing Culverton Smith as the killer he was."

"Oh, that's right, I didn't. Well, when I was in my hospital room, Smith came in through a secret entrance. He helped with the design of his wing of the hospital, you know, and he said he kept hiring and firing architects and builders so nobody realised what he was doing, getting access to certain rooms in order to kill people."

Molly fave him a shocked look. "So he tried to kill you as well?"

"That was rather the point of the whole exercise. I knew what I was doing, Molly. It was a calculated risk I took to put myself in his path, to be his next target."

Molly put her hands over her mouth to stifle her gasp of horror. "How could you even think of doing such a thing? It's obviously by the grace of God that you are still alive. Why do you keep putting God to the test? How many more signs do you need that He's real, and He has saved you multiple times?" Molly couldn't help the desperate tone of her voice.

"Well, technically it was John who did the saving on this occasion, but you've made your point. I'm willing to concede that God may have had something to do with John arriving just in time."

Her brows rose in surprise. "Really? You, Sherlock Holmes, are finally willing to admit there might be a power higher than yourself?" Her heart lifted.

"I may not understand all of your beliefs, but yes. At this point I've seen enough evidence to know I can no longer deny the existence of God."

Molly beamed. "That's wonderful, Sherlock. I'm proud of you for being able to see beyond yourself and to understand that sometimes we just have to accept things on faith." She tilted her head slightly. "So, anyway, what happened next?"

Sherlock took a moment to speak, as if collecting his thoughts. "I was very weak, what with the drugs in my system and my ribs making it difficult for me to breathe without pain. Smith confessed everything to me and then wanted me to tell him how I was feeling." Sherlock swallowed, obviously reliving the memory.

Molly looked at him in concern. "Sherlock, you don't need to relive it. It's okay, I don't need to know if this is too painful for you."

"No," he insisted stubbornly, "I do have to tell you because that's part of the reason why I'm able to talk with you this way today."

Molly bit her lip. "All right then. Go on."

"I told him I was scared of dying. He wanted me to tell him over and over that I didn't want to die, even as he was rolling up his sleeves and preparing to take my life." Sherlock drew in a deep breath. "And when I said it, finally I realised the truth, that no matter how guilty I felt over what had happened with Mary, I didn't actually want to die. I had thought about it, I knew it was a possibility, but at that moment your words came back to me about my life not being my own, and I knew it would be selfish of me to not think about how it would affect other people if I died."

Molly's eyes blurred with tears and she rose again to sit on the edge of Sherlock's chair, taking his hand which was now trembling again, whether from withdrawal or the force of his remembered emotions, she didn't know. "Oh, Sherlock, the whole situation must've been terrible. So John came in and saved you?"

"Yes. I was too weak to pull Smith's hands away from my nose and mouth when he was trying to suffocate me. John came in and pulled him off of me. Guess I owe him one."

Molly pressed her lips together. "Sounds to me like you are even after the beating you took from him." She still couldn't help feeling angry over John's unjustifiable behaviour, but at least he had redeemed himself somewhat by his actions in saving Sherlock's life.

She listened as Sherlock explained the final details, about the recording device in John's cane which would be inadmissible in court, and that it didn't matter because Smith was apparently taking great pleasure in confessing all his sins. And then he told her about his reconciliation with John, that John no longer blamed him for Mary's death.

"He never should have blamed you in the first place," said Molly hotly, gripping his hand tightly.

"Molly, I blamed myself too, still do, at least to a certain extent. He lost his wife and the mother of his child. If that ever happened to you-'' he broke off suddenly, as if fearing he was about to reveal too much and continued, rather lamely, "Well, I don't even want to think about that."

"So, let's get you all better then," Moly said brightly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Not right now," he responded. "I need something to distract me from this damned withdrawal. God, It's never been this hard before." He frowned and closed his eyes, as if trying to assert control with his mind palace.

"How can I help you?" asked Molly, and his hand turned to link with hers.

"I think it would help if I saw Victoria. Can you bring her here?"

"I don't know," Molly said doubtfully. "I'm supposed to be picking her up at ten, but I suppose I could bring her for a little while once Mrs. Hudson takes over." She knew Victoria would be happy to see her daddy.

"I have an idea. Why don't you stay the night?" he suggested. "Victoria can sleep in the bed with us. Please, will you do that for me?"

The idea of sleeping in the same bed as Sherlock once again gave Molly pause for thought. She definitely did not wish to resume a sexual relationship with him when she was not entirely certain of what the future held. He had gone back and forth with the way things stood between them so many times it was dizzying. But then, she reflected, he probably was not even thinking about that in his current state and even if he was, he would not be able to try anything if Victoria was in the bed as well, so finally she nodded. "I...I'll have to speak with Mrs. Hudson. Maybe she can come up here while I go home and get changes of clothes, pick up Victoria and come back. At least tomorrow is Sunday so I'm not working. I guess I can skip church."

"Thank you. Why don't you talk to Mrs. Hudson now? If it's okay with her, she can come up right away and you can do what you need to do and get back here. That way it won't be past Victoria's bedtime either," he added, releasing Molly's hand from his iron grip to pull out his street key from his pocket. "Take my key."

"Alright." She headed downstairs and spoke with Mrs. Hudson who was quite relieved to forgo the nightshift on the sofa and just head up there temporarily while Molly was gone.

Molly went home, picked up what she needed for herself and Victoria, then retrieved her daughter from the child minder and they headed to Baker Street.

Victoria was beside herself with excitement at the prospect of seeing her father after weeks of his absence.

When they arrived at Baker Street, Molly let herself in with Sherlock's key and they went up to 221B.

"Daddy!" squealed the little girl, jumping onto Sherlock's lap where he still sat in his chair, and flinging her arms around his neck, much to the amusement of the women.

Just as well she doesn't hold grudges, thought Molly with the hint of a smile on her lips.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said fondly, kissing his daughter's cheek. "I missed you."

Tears came into her eyes. "You went away again," she accused.

Okay, Molly thought, Apparently Victoria is more aware of the passage of time than I thought with regard to Sherlock's absence.

"I didn't technically go away, but yes, I was away from you," Sherlock told his daughter apologetically and Molly rolled her eyes. How typical of Sherlock to be so literal. Her expression softened though when he added, "I am sorry. Forgive me," in a tone reminiscent of the one he had used on her all those years earlier at the Christmas party.

Victoria gave him a tremulous smile. "I forgive you." Molly was proud of her daughter. The word forgive was not one that someone her age would typically be familiar with, but it was something Molly had explained to her about when they had attended the Good Friday Service at church a couple weeks earlier after she heard about the words of Jesus on the cross - "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." Molly had explained that to forgive meant to let go of anger and resentment about something and not continue to hold it against a person.

Molly watched as the man she loved and would always forgive held their daughter close, closed his eyes and they cuddled contentedly as he laid his dark head atop her brown one.

"And how have you been doing?" asked Mrs. Hudson of Molly. "Is everything okay with the baby?" she added quietly so as not to let Victoria hear.

"Things are much better now. I lost weight in the first trimester, but I'm back at the weight I was when I got pregnant now," explained Molly. "Victoria has missed you too, by the way, but you know why I had to keep her away for awhile. Hopefully things can go back to normal soon, if you'd like to resume your role as surrogate grandmother once Sherlock is clean again."

"Of course," replied the landlady, beaming. Then she gave Molly an assessing look. "You know, nobody would even know you're pregnant unless they were specifically looking for it."

"I know. I just look like my belly is a bit larger, like I'm bloated. Just as well," she said with a rather pained smile. "I'm not looking forward to revealing it."

"Surely Sherlock is going to step up and say he's the father? Haven't you sorted things out now?"

"Kind of, but I'm afraid he will let me down again," said Molly with a little sigh, sliding a glance over at Sherlock whose eyes were still closed and lips were curved slightly upwards in contentment. "I've lost count of how many excuses he's made already for not saying we are in a relationship, or that he's Victoria's father. I can't take things for granted anymore."

Mrs. Hudson laid a gentle hand on her arm. "I know his heart's in the right place, dear. If he drags his heels much longer, let me know and I'll toss him into the boot of my car again and give him a nice bumpy ride until he comes to his senses. I can handcuff him again too, if necessary." She gave Molly a sly look. "He keeps those in the salad drawer of the kitchen, in case you need them for any reason." She winked conspiratorially and Molly blushed.

Molly decided to ignore the handcuff comment. "I heard about that. little trip."

"Did he tell you I managed to get his gun away from him as well so that I could force him into the boot?" Mrs. Hudson smirked, then continued. "To be fair, I did enlist the aid of a couple of the workers from Speedy's to help carry him downstairs."

"Ah, no, that sounds very interesting," responded Molly, shaking her head in bemusement. Mrs. Hudson really was a remarkably resourceful woman.

"I must say, I hope I never have to do that again," confided Mrs. Hudson. "Anyway, I guess I'll head downstairs now. Give Victoria a kiss for me. Thanks for relieving me of night duty."

Molly allowed herself a small smile. "I will, and you're welcome."

After Mrs. Hudson had left, Molly looked over to Sherlock and Victoria. Victoria's eyes were also closed, and by her relaxed posture she appeared to be asleep. Sherlock's eyes too were still closed.

Molly decided it was a good time to get herself ready for bed. She took a quick shower, figuring Sherlock wouldn't mind. After the shower, she put on the chemise she always used as a nightie, and added Sherlock's blue dressing gown for modesty. She returned to the sitting room and gently extricated Victoria from her father's arms.

"Come on, sweet pea, let's get you in your pyjamas," she told the sleepy toddler, taking her first to the bathroom to use the toilet. After helping Victoria put on her pyjamas, she got her settled into the middle of Sherlock's bed.

"Sleeping here tonight, Mummy?" murmured her daughter.

"Yes, lovey." Moly brushed the hair from Victoria's forehead and kissed her twice. "That's a kiss from me and from Nanny. Now go to sleep. Daddy and I will be in soon."

"Okay Mummy."

Molly pulled up the duvet and waited until the child had closed her eyes and was asleep, then returned to the sitting room once again.

"Sherlock?" She touched his shoulder gently. "Do you want to go and take a shower and go to bed?"

"Where's Victoria?" he asked, opening his eyes, then groaning slightly. She knew his ribs were hurting because of his awkward position from holding Victoria and reflected she'd have to give John a good talking to. Honestly, no matter how much he had blamed Sherlock for what had happened, there was no excuse for his violent behaviour.

"I've already put her to bed in your room," she explained, then extended her hands to help him rise from his chair. He did so, a little stiffly.

Biting her lip, she asked a little hesitantly. "Do you need me to help you get undressed for your shower?"

His tired eyes came to life and a touch of the old Sherlock returned as he said with a smirk, "Best not. I might be tempted to do...other things besides take a shower."

Molly blushed and released his hands. "Um yeah, best not then." She couldn't help adding, "You might want to consider shaving as well."

Without warning, he pulled her in to himself and bent his head to kiss her for a few heart-stopping seconds until she pulled away and made a little face. Prickly stubble really was not a lot of fun. He gave her a knowing look. "Ah, I deduce you prefer me clean-shaven when I kiss you."

"Yes," she admitted honestly. Then she frowned at him. "Now is not the time to be kissing or talking about it anyway. You need to concentrate on getting better. Go and take your shower," she ordered.

With a sigh, he released her and gave her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am." Obediently he headed for the bathroom, saying as he went, "Would you fetch me some clean boxers, please?"

"Of course," she responded, heading for the bedroom and suddenly realising she had no idea where he kept them. Perhaps his bedside drawer?

She walked over to it quietly so as not to disturb her sleeping daughter. Immediately she noticed, with a lurch of her heart, the two framed pictures on top that had been laid down. Oh yes, he really had been trying to forget her and their daughter, apparently. She quickly pulled open the top drawer. Nothing but socks and other miscellaneous items. Her eyes alighted on a small velvet box. Apparently he still had the ring he had used to propose to Janine and she couldn't help feeling a stab of jealousy at the thought. Why had he kept it?

Hastily she closed the drawer and opened the bottom one. Ah, there they were. She snatched out a pair of boxers and walked to the bathroom door, tapping on it gently. She could hear the shower running. "I'll just leave your boxers outside the door," she called.

"You can come in if you like," responded Sherlock. "Door's not locked."

Molly hesitated, then opened the door a little and deposited the boxers just inside the door. She tried very hard not to think about Sherlock being naked in the shower. Stupid, traitorous body, she thought to herself, as her breath hitched slightly at the thought. She hastily closed the door on the bathroom and those inappropriate thoughts.

Molly headed to the kitchen and made tea. She could certainly use a cup to soothe her suddenly frayed nerves. She sipped hers as she waited.

When Sherlock emerged from the shower, clean-shaven, bare-chested and hair damp and tousled, her breath hitched at the sight. Then her stomach dropped when she noted the reddened marks that indicated his bruised ribs. Oh yes, John had certainly taken his anger out on Sherlock quite thoroughly.

She was about to tell him she had made tea when she took a closer look at him as he came towards her and realised he was suffering from withdrawal in a more obvious manner than earlier. His teeth had begun to chatter and he was walking a little unsteadily. Of course, he was only in his boxers which did not help matters either. "I'm s...so c...cold," he managed to say as his body began to tremble as well.

Molly stood and walked the final steps to him to brush his curls aside and feel his forehead. Not surprisingly it felt extremely hot to the touch. She knew he was craving a fix by the way his hands kept flexing and unflexing. She could not imagine how unbearable it must be to be suffering the way he was.

Deciding the tea was unimportant, she said, "Come on, let's go to the bedroom, get you under the covers." She reached out a hand and he took it, walking unsteadily with her to the bedroom.

She helped him get under the covers. "Let me get you a flannel for your forehead and a glass of water," she told him. Yes, water would be better than tea to prevent dehydration, she thought, mentally kicking herself for not thinking of that earlier.

"Need you, Molly," he said faintly. "Are you coming to bed now too?"

"Yes, Sherlock. Let me get the flannel and water. I'll be back in a minute."

Tasks accomplished, along with some Panadol she found in a kitchen cupboard that she knew would not interfere in his recovery and might give him at least a little relief, she returned to the bedroom. "Here you go," she told Sherlock, helping him sit back up and offering the glass of water and tablets. When a sceptical look crossed his face, she said, "It's just Panadol I found in the cupboard," he took them and swallowed them along with a few sips of the water.

"Thank you, Molly. You always take such good care of me," he responded sincerely, and Molly wished she could tell him she wanted to do that for the rest of their lives, but now was not the time. She picked up the wet flannel she had temporarily put on the bed and placed it on his forehead.

"That feels good," he said, and added, "but I'm feeling so bloody cold. Are you going to get into bed now, and maybe I can hold you?" he asked hopefully, lifting the covers, and she hesitated.

She had thought to sleep on the other side of Victoria. "Alright," she agreed finally. "I'll have to shift Victoria over though so I can keep my arm over her so she doesn't fall out of bed."

"Fine with me," responded Sherlock, still holding the covers aloft.

Molly slid off the dressing gown and climbed awkwardly over Sherlock, thinking it would have been much easier if he had got out of bed first, then gently moved her sleeping daughter closer to the edge of the bed, looping her arm over her.

She heard Sherlock shift position as he turned off his bedside lamp and then settle back under the duvet himself.

He slid his body closer towards her, until it was up against hers. She could feel the heat emanating from him, and the touch of his lips on her hair. She didn't protest when his arm came around her, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her chemise.

"Thanks for doing this for me, Molly," he murmured, "You're my guardian angel."

She couldn't help the little sigh of contentment that escaped her lips at his touch and sweet words, and was soon asleep.

Author's note: Ugh, apologies that this chapter is so long. I already split it once but there was so much to get through and it all takes place in one night, so another split didn't seem logical.

I did research the symptoms of opiate drug withdrawal to make sure it was consistent with what I have written here. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for Sherlock to go "cold turkey" after getting in so deep with the drugs this time. I also checked to make sure the use of Panadol is safe. It is a very mild pain reliever (the British/Australian equivalent of acetaminophen/Tylenol in America if you would like a comparison). I always try to keep all my facts as accurate as possible. The only suspension of disbelief you should need in this story is how incredibly detailed it is for a dream LOL.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter as Sherlock and Molly grow a little closer once again. But how am I going to go from this to the events of TFP? Don't worry, you won't have to wait much longer. We are getting close. Are you on the edge of your seat with anticipation?

I do hope you will respond with your thoughts on this chapter. I feel it is one of the best I have written so far and it was hugely altered from the way I wrote it initially over a year ago. In fact, the majority of this chapter did not exist in its original format. Please follow and favourite this story if you feel it is worthy of the recognition so that your actions may draw other readers to my work. You may think your attention to that kind of thing doesn't make a difference, but it really does.