Saturday, September 23rd, 2017

Sherlock and Molly were cuddled together on the sofa, having come home a short while earlier from a quiet, later than usual, dinner at Angelo's.

Sherlock had deliberately avoided the topic of his sister as they ate dinner, not wishing to discuss things in a public setting. He had been very pleased with the way the visit had gone earlier that day. It was the first time Molly had met Eurus, and Sherlock was proud of his wife. She showed no sign of being intimidated by Eurus, nor did she bear any secret resentment towards the other woman for forcing the emotional conversation with Sherlock that had caused Molly such torment for three days. That was how long it had taken Sherlock to sort things through in his mind palace and purchase an engagement ring for Molly, knowing he was totally, irrevocably in love with her.

Sherlock had been amazed, although he should not have been, at his sister's ability to discern that Molly was pregnant, even though at this point there was no outward sign of it. She had also commented on the fact they were married, but that of course was not a difficult deduction. They had made no effort to hide their wedding rings.

Molly laid her head against Sherlock's shoulder. "I hope Eurus will enjoy watching our wedding DVD. I'm just so glad she got to be part of it in a way when we used the recording of you and her playing the violin together as our wedding recessional."

"I'm glad she was able to be part of our wedding as well," agreed Sherlock. "I am also hopeful that she will read the Bible we left for her. I hope she will follow our suggestion on what to read first. It certainly helped for me to not just start at the beginning and go through. I needed to know about Jesus in order to believe fully what the Bible had to say."

"I hope she reads it too. At least we can pray for her," responded Molly.

"That is true. Oh," he suddenly remembered something, "now that the news of your pregnancy has spread further, I think we should call my parents and your mum to give them the go ahead to tell the people at their churches our news. You know they are dying to do so."

Molly giggled. "You're right. I know Mum would have kept our secret another week as requested, but she was definitely anxious to let people know. I'll call her right now."

Two phone calls later, both Sherlock and Molly were smiling at the way both mothers had been excited that they could share the news after all. Sherlock had also taken the time to tell his mother that he and Molly had visited Eurus together and that she had deduced that Molly was pregnant. He also told her about the Bible they had given his sister, and Mrs. Holmes had been very pleased. She too was praying for her daughter to come to faith, even as she continued to pray for Mycroft.

Tasks accomplished, Sherlock sat back on the sofa and pulled Molly close. "So," he said, "I have not had the opportunity to kiss you in several hours. My lips feel somewhat neglected." He tilted Molly's chin upwards so her face was now only inches from his own.

Obligingly, she closed the remaining distance, and he enjoyed spending some time in non-verbal communication. Kissing was definitely something he would never tire of with Molly.

Finally their lips parted, and Molly said, "I think I'll go take a shower now. Afterwards we can do our devotional together and maybe some Bible reading."

"That sounds like a good idea," approved Sherlock. "While you're doing that, I think I shall read some more of your diary."

Molly stood, then swayed a little. Sherlock raised a hand to steady her.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern.

"I'm fine," Molly assured him. "I just got up too fast, and I'm feeling a little nauseous as usual."

"I'm sorry, love," responded Sherlock. "Would you prefer a bath where you can relax? I could get it ready for you."

Molly shook her head. "No, that's okay. You read the diary, and I will bring in the Bible and devotional when I get out of the shower."

"Well, if you're sure," he said slowly, still a little concerned.

She bent over and kissed him quickly. "Very sure. I'll be back in a bit."

After she had gone, Sherlock followed his usual routine of taking out his reading glasses and the diary, moving to his chair. Pencil ready, he began to read.

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

February

Rosie's baptism was today. Yep, her name is Rosamund, which means "rose of the world". Isn't that a simply beautiful name? Mary said they would call her Rosie for short. When I was younger, I used to dream about what I'd name my children, if I had them. I remember loving the name Diana, because of Princess Diana. It's funny, for girls' names I never really thought of Biblical ones, but for boys' names I've always thought there are some good ones that are perhaps not quite so common - like Noah or Elijah. I suppose every little girl dreams about what they'd name their own children. I certainly wouldn't choose Enid. I really don't care for my middle name, even if it was in honour of the wonderful author, Enid Blyton. It's so old-fashioned. My initials spell MEH, which is one of those terms school kids like to use to describe a lack of enthusiasm. Oh well, at least Enid is only my middle name and nobody needs to know it. I like my first name, and don't tell anyone, but every time Sherlock says my name, it rolls off his tongue in a way that makes me want to melt. Ugh, there I go, talking about him AGAIN. If he ever saw this diary, he would probably think I am obsessed and a stalker.

Amazingly, Sherlock actually turned up at the baptism to be godfather. He was running a little late though, and the service was about to start. He also spent the time when we were standing up there during the baptism sacrament on his phone. It just goes to show how little he thinks of spiritual matters. In fact, I was a little cross with him. Can you believe that he didn't even know the baby's name was Rosamund? When the priest asked for her name and Mary gave it, Sherlock looked up from his phone in surprise and said, "Rosamund?" When I asked if he hadn't seen John's text about it, he made some ridiculous comment about deleting any text that begins with the word "Hi". I might be hopelessly in love with the man, but that doesn't mean I can't acknowledge the fact that he can be a total, oblivious bastard at times (excuse the swearing, but it's appropriate here). Sherlock continued to text while the priest was speaking, and finally I had to nudge him and hiss, "Phone" at him, so he would stop texting. Even then he put it behind his back and must've hit the button that activated Siri when I nudged him again after the priest asked if we were ready to help the parents fulfill their duties as Christian godparents. That question means something to me, even if it meant nothing to Sherlock, who was undoubtedly only interested in being there so he could get cake afterwards. It was most embarrassing to hear Siri go off like that in the middle of a church service. Honestly, if I didn't feel this strange distance between us lately, I would have told him off afterwards properly about that.

John and Mary held a little cake celebration at their flat afterwards. Believe me, I made the most of the opportunity to hold Rosie and look at that soft, sweet face. Babies are simply the most perfect part of creation, in my opinion. Just think, every baby has a unique genetic blueprint that contains the DNA of both the mother and the father. For me, the miracle of creation is the greatest evidence of the existence of God, whether it be a human being or an animal or nature itself. God's creation is all about us, and it is beautiful.

I spoke to Mrs Hudson a little at the Watsons' and she did tell me that Sherlock has been obsessively doing cases. That makes sense, given what Mary had said about him and John always being out on cases lately. Even during the "party", I barely said two words to Sherlock. He was too busy on his phone again. I did offer to get him a piece of cake and he accepted. He barely acknowledged me when I brought it over to him. I can't help but miss the way things were between us before, the camaraderie we shared. It's like he has withdrawn into himself, become so focussed on his work that he doesn't have time to think of dealing with people.

Now this was an interesting entry, where I discovered more about you, my darling. We shall have to keep those names in mind when it comes to thinking of baby names for our child. I do like Biblical names, especially Noah, having read the account of the ark and his faithfulness in building it.

I have no problem with your middle name, by the way. Enid Blyton was a fine author. I did have to grin when I read what you wrote about your initials. I'm sorry you didn't get to change your last name to one that would make for a better set of initials. I think it best we do not use middle names for our children which begin with vowels, at least for daughters. Talking of children reminds me of the fact that we have our own on the way, and it pleases me greatly. Will we have a little girl or boy, ah, the anticipation! Just hope it isn't twins...

Yes, you do seem a little obsessive, but fortunately it is a mutual obsession, even if at times I think you are more obsessed with my hair than anything else. But nobody could ever call you a stalker. Stalkers are people who follow someone around without their knowledge, not people who merely write about the person with whom they are in love. Funnily enough, you were never one to seek me out; it was always the other way around. Perhaps that should have been a sign for me earlier about my own feelings for you. The old adage of "hindsight is 20/20" is certainly accurate here. How I adore you, my sweet wife!

I'm a little embarrassed about the whole texting through the baptism scene. I remember I was in the middle of a conversation with a client at the time when I got to the church and anxious to continue working on it. I know, my priorities were definitely in error there. I am also ashamed I did not know Rosamund's name. I fully deserved your censure with that little sarcastic comment you made about human emotion. I'm a little surprised you didn't write the words here in your diary. You were right in that it was a strange time in our relationship. I was keeping my distance from you, as I said in my previous response to your last entry.

It seems like a lifetime since I was that man, rather than merely months, isn't that strange? Sherrinford was the beginning of the new me. Speaking of which, I'm so pleased we had the opportunity to visit Eurus today together. I am looking forward to finding out what she thinks of the Bible we gave her. XOX


March

I've just been glancing through my diary because I haven't written in it since last month, and I realised something. A diary is supposed to be where you pour all your thoughts, hopes and dreams for the future and even your everyday life. What I noticed as I was reading is that this diary is full of my one-sided attraction (well, love) for Sherlock. Writing about Sherlock dominates almost every entry. I've decided to label this diary "Diary if an Incurably Romantic Pathologist" because it seems all my romantic heart wants to do is write about him.

Anyway, the reason I am even writing today is that I brought my diary with me to the Watsons' place, as I am staying over for a couple days at John's request. It's all very mysterious. Mary left town suddenly, and Sherlock and John are going to bring her home. They were heading to the airport and didn't tell me where, and it was none of my business to ask. I wonder if she is experiencing postnatal depression and went off to stay with friends or relatives to get away for a while. I've heard some women can get severe postnatal depression. I would hope to never suffer from it, although the chances of me even becoming a mother at this point are rather remote.

I am having a wonderful time looking after Rosie, who I just put down for the night, but the more I look after her, feed her, change her, the more my maternal instincts kick in. Sometimes I wonder why God put this deep desire within me for a family if it was to remain a wish that will never be fulfilled. I know, it is wrong for me to assign any blame to God for having these feelings, but I can't help feeling hurt at times over things.

Every now and then I drift of into a daydream about what it would be like to have a baby with Sherlock. Is that a sin to think of that, to fantasise about having a child with him? I mean, it isn't like I've actually thought about what it would be like to ahem, have sex with him. I'm blushing just writing the word. To be honest, I never even thought about that with Tom. Vaguely in the back of my mind, obviously I knew it would happen once we were married, but I figured he would be the one to take the lead on things, having been with women before. I don't think the idea of sex even crosses Sherlock's mind as something more than an activity other people do. Of course there was his brief time with Janine, and I still don't know for sure whether he slept with her, despite his denial to me after I saw those tabloid articles. I certainly couldn't blame him if he did. I don't think non-Christians typically think much about the idea of abstinence before marriage. Okay, I really need to stop writing about sex or I will start having impure thoughts, and that would not be good. I think I'm going to go and have a sleep now anyway, seeing as Rosie is asleep. Babies don't typically sleep for long periods, so I had better try and get some rest. Goodnight, dear Diary, faithful friend in whom I can pour out the feelings I could never tell anyone else.

Ah, I see I need to explain to you completely about Mary. I'm sorry John and I could not explain anything at the time. Obviously it was part of her secret, and John and I could not reveal that to you. But here it goes. I don't see any reason to not tell you now exactly what happened. I told you about Mary being an assassin during our engagement, but I didn't tell you all the details about what happened around the time when you were looking after Rosie.

At that time I was working on a case I thought was related to Moriarty, thanks to that video image that was displayed all over England. Someone was smashing plaster busts of Margaret Thatcher. I was certain one of the busts contained the Black Pearl of the Borgias, the disappearance of which was of interest to Moriarty before his death, according to Mycroft. Incidentally, the whereabouts of that remains a mystery.

Anyway, I went to the location of the last plaster bust in order to catch the person responsible for smashing them. It turned out to be Ajay, an associate of Mary's, who had been with her at Tbilisi and was part of her special operations team, of which there were four members. She thought he had died, but he had been imprisoned and tortured for six years and finally escaped. He was under the misapprehension that Mary was the one who had betrayed their team, which as you know, was not her, but Lady Smallwood's secretary, Vivian Norbury. Ajay didn't know that and he planned revenge on Mary.

Why am am I writing all this down? Telling you would be much easier, oh well! To make a long story short, he was looking for his memory stick, which he had hidden in a plaster bust that had just been manufactured as a group of six in Tbilisi. Mary and the other members of her team also had one. These memory sticks contained everything about their real identities so that they could not betray one another. I'll tell you about what happened when I met up with Ajay some other time, but I did manage to take the memory stick and tell Mary about it.

When she knew Ajay was after her, she ran, incapacitating me and taking the memory stick with her. Fortunately, I had placed a tracer on the memory stick, anticipating such a reaction. All I needed to do was wait for her to stay in one place long enough so John and I could retrieve her. That turned out to be Marrakech, Morocco. When we got to her, Ajay had followed us, and he ended up being shot and killed by the police. With the scanty evidence I had accumulated over the identity of the betrayer of Mary's team, I thought it to be Lady Smallwood, but later realised my mistake. As you know, the night after we returned from Morocco, and you were babysitting Rosie, I went to confront Norbury at the aquarium.

I have not reached the point in the diary yet where you write about what happens, and I'm sure you shall do so, so I shall restrain myself from saying anything further on that for now. Instead, I will comment about what you said in regard to having children.

I do not believe it was sinful for you to imagine having a baby with me, and obviously, that was what God intended all along when he placed that desire in your heart. You just were aware of it before I was. As you have quoted to me before, Jeremiah 29:11 is very appropriate. God knows the plans he has for us. It is better for us to wait upon the Lord, and that is exactly what you did, my love. You waited for me to be ready and trusted God, even if you had your doubts about things. Now you see where that led for us. You were born to be a mother.

I found it rather amusing to see you writing about sex and your concern over having impure thoughts about me. At least you don't have to worry about that now. Nothing between us is impure or anything to be ashamed of because we have the blessing of God.

I must say though, it still makes me a little sad that you thought I may have lied to you about Janine. But, as I said in an earlier entry, at least you know now that I was never intimate with her, nor did I wish to be.

Ah, you are heading my way, perfect timing, I shall have you catch up with my responses as I take a shower. XOX

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Sherlock kept the diary open as he took off his reading glasses and stood. Molly set down the Bible and devotional then looked at him inquiringly. Her hair was still damp, but she had brushed it through and she was wearing his blue dressing down. When do I start thinking of it as her dressing gown? he wondered to himself.

Aloud he said, "Why don't you catch up on my comments in your diary while I go take my shower? I think you'll find some interesting new information in it which I have not disclosed before."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "New information?"

"You'll see." He handed her the diary and then headed off to take his shower.

Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and shaved, wearing his tartan dressing gown for a change, after all he didn't want to always be predictable, he returned to the sitting room to see Molly had finished reading.

She looked up. "Where's your red dressing gown?" was her first question.

Sherlock shrugged and went to sit beside her. "I thought I'd give it a rest."

Molly laughed. "Well, the tartan one is nice, but I will always prefer the red one. Just for future reference," she said mischievously, tugging at his belt playfully.

"Stop it, Molly," he ordered. "So what did you think of what you read in the diary about Mary?"

"When I could decipher your writing," she said in a teasing voice, and he had to grin, because he had indeed been writing very fast in his usual scrawl, "I found it extremely interesting." She looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, I had not thought about the way the whole Norbury stuff happened because of you trying to help Mary. I have some thoughts on that, but I will keep them to myself until you've actually seen what I write about that day. But thank you for enlightening me. At least now I know why you and John were away for a couple of days. I really feel for poor Mary. She must've been so terrified."

Sherlock pouted. "Don't you think it was clever of me to put the tracker on the memory stick instead of chasing her all over the globe?"

Molly moved to sit on Sherlock's lap and slipped her hand beneath his dressing gown to curl it at his waist, moving her fingers in a slightly circular motion. "Brilliant, my love." She gave him a seductive glance through her eyelashes.

"Molly, aren't we going to read our devotional and do our Bible reading before we move onto other things?" he enquired, raising an eyebrow. "What has got into you?"

Her hand stopped its movement. "It was reading your comments about how I need not worry anymore about having impure thoughts about you. I'm thinking I am definitely having some...thoughts right now. Guess they must not be impure because you're my husband." Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers and curved towards his bum.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Holmes?" he enquired, feeling the heat rise within him as it always did. His own hands moved to the belt of her dressing gown and unfastened it so he could glimpse the lingerie beneath. Oh, it was the daringly low cut teddy from their honeymoon. His wife was entirely too sexy.

She gave him an impish grin as he began to place his hands along her own curves. "As you've told me yourself, husband dear, it's not a seduction when both parties are in agreement about what is to happen."

His wife was entirely too logical as well, Sherlock thought, conceding that it was still early enough to have a lovely time of pure bliss with his wife as well as do their nightly reading. Perhaps there would even be time afterwards for round two as often happened.

His lips met Molly's in a searing kiss of promise, and she uttered a soft sigh of pleasure, knowing she was the winner this time, and that he was putty in her hands. But then again, they were both winners anyway.


Author's note: Time is marching onwards in the diary towards the unfortunate events at the end of TST. What did you think of Sherlock explaining to Molly via the diary about that time period after Mary left? It's always interesting to think about how it would have looked to others with Mary just disappearing. Do you have your own ideas on that?

Before I return to the diary, I will be publishing a one-shot that begins the day after this one. It is called Sherlock and the Mouse. So stand by for that one - it has been languishing on my iPad since September 2018.

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