Tuesday, October 10th 2017

Sherlock's client was sitting in the client chair, holding his daughter on his lap. She was a pretty little thing, thought Sherlock, with her straight brown hair and warm coffee coloured eyes that made him wonder if Molly might have looked the same when she was a baby. She appeared to be a little more than a year old, judging by the way her father had set her down momentarily to shake Sherlock's hand, and she had begun to walk away until her father restrained her.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes. I only brought Chloe with me because my wife is at work, and the child minder I had arranged for this afternoon fell ill unexpectedly."

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "It's fine. My own wife is currently expecting, and I am anticipating we will encounter unexpected circumstances at times once our own baby arrives. From what I have read and seen, a baby certainly changes everything in your life."

"That's true." The young man, whose name was Nathaniel Dawson, sobered. "Anyway, my wife doesn't know I am here, obviously."

Sherlock nodded. "You told me in your email you believe she may be having an affair." He was used to these types of consultations. Requests for his help in discovering whether a partner or spouse was being unfaithful always peppered his inbox. Sadly, in most instances, the suspicions were correct, and he was able to send the client away sadder but wiser, usually without needing to leave the flat to actually go out and investigate.

"Want down." The toddler struggled to get off her father's lap.

"No, Chloe, you must stay in Daddy's lap for now."

Sherlock looked around to see if he had anything that might amuse the child, and his eyes alighted on Billy the skull. If Billy could survive an explosion at Baker Street, he could probably survive being handled by a child. Mrs. Hudson had always dusted the skull, but Molly had done the dusting since their marriage, and he assumed the skull was clean enough. He walked over to the mantelpiece and took the object. "Perhaps your daughter would like to play with this?"

He set Billy on the floor in front of the client chair.

Nathaniel bit his lip nervously. "It's clean, isn't it?"

"I can assure you, my wife is very scrupulous in her dusting."

"Alright then." Nathaniel put his daughter down on the floor, and she immediately sat and put her fingers in the hollow sockets.

"In your email, you told me you have been suspecting for some time that your wife has been having an affair. Please elaborate on why you think this may be happening."

Nathaniel sighed, and Sherlock could see the troubled expression in his blue eyes. "Well, the thing is, we had a bit of a rocky start. We got together one night at a pub. She was sitting at the bar and had had a bit too much to drink. I was there with some mates and well, we started chatting. One thing led to another and you know how it goes. I woke up next morning with this strange woman in my bed. So we exchanged numbers. I tried to call her but the number wasn't in service so I figured she'd given me a fake one because she was embarrassed about our one-night-stand. Anyway, two weeks later I got a call from an unknown number and it was her. She wanted to tell me her period was late, she'd taken a pregnancy test, and it was positive." He grimaced. "Of all the bad luck, eh?"

"Anytime you indulge in unprotected sex, you run the risk of there being consequences." Sherlock had been through this before. It was all too common a theme. It was surprising how many people got together while drunk and had unprotected sex. With their higher intellectual functions temporarily disabled, they didn't even consider the possible ramifications of such an act. Yet when a pregnancy occurred, there was always surprise that one sexual encounter could have such a life-altering result.

"Yeah, I know." He looked down for a moment at the toddler, who was still engrossed with sticking her little fingers into various openings of the skull.

Sherlock waited patiently from his vantage point in his chair.

"Anyway, of course I did the right thing. I decided to give things a go with Kelly, and we've been together ever since."

Sherlock leaned forward, elbows on knees and fingers steepled under his chin as usual. It helped him focus. "How long have you been married?"

"We got married two months before Chloe was born. I wanted her to have my name when she came into the world; I'm a bit traditional that way."

Sherlock smiled. For someone who was obviously in his early twenties, it was actually quite unusual. "Nothing wrong with that. Please continue."

"Anyway, I've been suspicious for a few months now that Kelly is seeing someone else. She's been working late nights on a project. A couple times I've tried to call her and not got a reply, and when she has come home she has said she turned off her phone because the battery was low or she didn't want to be distracted while she was working."

Sherlock listened as the man explained further. There was an ex-boyfriend who worked with Kelly. Nathaniel had even confronted his wife, and she had denied having an affair. So now he wanted Sherlock's help in finding out for sure.

"Do you happen to have a photograph of your wife?"

"Of course." Nathaniel stood, reached into his pocket and extracted a small photo from his wallet. He walked over to Sherlock and handed the photo to him, then returned to his chair. His daughter had lost interest in the skull, and he picked her up again, taking off his watch so she could play with it.

Sherlock looked at the photo carefully. Laughing blue eyes looked back at him from the couple in the wedding photo in front of him. Sherlock's stomach plummeted. He disliked giving bad news to clients, even though it was a frequent occurrence.

He looked over at Nathaniel. "May I ask if you know when your wife broke things off with her ex?"

The young man frowned slightly. "Actually, it was right before we met. She told me that's why she had too much to drink the night we met. They'd had an argument and broken up a day earlier."

Things slid into focus for Sherlock. He needed to be absolutely sure, though. "May I ask if your daughter's arrival was near her due date and what her weight was at birth?"

Nathaniel looked puzzled. "Actually, she was a month early. Just as well for Kelly, because Chloe was eight pounds. I shudder to think what size she would have been if she'd arrived on time."

Sherlock expelled a deep breath. He decided to approach this delicately, see if the young man could discover the truth for himself. "Mr. Dawson, did you study genetics in secondary school?"

Nathaniel furrowed his brow. "Well, of course, everyone does. I know it is the man's sperm that determines the sex of the baby, if that's what you are asking."

Sherlock closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. "No, I was thinking more in terms of dominant and recessive genes. Do you remember learning about those?"

Nathaniel scratched his head. "I dunno. Probably. Science wasn't my best subject."

"Certain genetic traits are a forgone conclusion when both parents share a recessive gene. Blue eyes is one of them."

"Oh, but what does that-" Nathaniel's eyes widened then and his mouth opened as he gasped. Then he swallowed. "Oh, God." His hands tightened on the child in his lap, still playing with his watch.

Sherlock knew he'd finally understood. The child had brown eyes, a not impossible, but extremely unlikely genetic trait to inherit from two blue-eyed parents. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Dawson. I can make some deductions, but you will probably then want to confront your wife with the truth. Would you like me to explain?"

The young man nodded. He looked numb, and Sherlock felt genuine sorrow for him. If he were Nathaniel, he would be devastated, as well. The child was innocent.

Nathaniel held the toddler tighter as Sherlock explained his theory. "I cannot say whether your wife knew she was pregnant or not on the night you met, I suspect not or she would have given you her real number and tried to reconnect with you immediately. Perhaps she and her boyfriend parted ways because he did not wish to make a commitment to her, or perhaps he did not wish to have children. When she discovered she was pregnant, she decided to pretend you were the father. She obviously assumed you were a decent young man who would accept the baby as his and do the right thing."

Sherlock could see the tears in the young man's eyes. "She's still my daughter." He rubbed his head against Chloe's cheek.

The little girl twisted to look at him. "Dada?" Sherlock's heart ached for both of them. He stood and walked over to the distraught young man, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm terribly sorry. If you approach your wife with the facts, I hope she will tell you the truth. Perhaps there is no affair now. Perhaps she simply feels guilty about her deceit." He didn't believe his own words. There was every chance that the woman had resumed seeing her ex secretly. But he wanted to at least give the man a little hope.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I...I'm glad to know the truth, but Chloe will always be my daughter, whatever happens. I've loved her since before she was born."

"You hold on to that, son. Your daughter, and she is your daughter in every way that counts, is lucky to have you. I wish you the best." He stood and held out the photograph.

The young man put Chloe down, took the photograph and reached into his pocket for his wallet to replace it. He then began to pull out some notes to pay for the consultation, but Sherlock stopped him. He just didn't feel right taking the young man's money. "No charge" He felt compelled to add something. "There's a verse in the Bible that says, "'You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.' It is in reference to knowing Jesus, but I hope in this case you will also feel free now that you know the truth. What you do with the truth is up to you. You can choose to acknowledge it or to ignore it." Sherlock knew he was now talking more about Jesus, but perhaps he could plant a seed in the man's mind that would lead him to one day understand a greater freedom that could be found in Jesus Christ. "I will pray for you."

A tear trickled down Nathaniel's cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I really appreciate it."

He swung his daughter into his arms, and Sherlock opened the door for him to exit.

Sherlock closed the door and picked up Billy, returning the skull to its usual place. Nathaniel Dawson was a good example of someone who showed unconditional love. Even with the knowledge that Chloe was not his daughter, he still loved her and wanted to be a father to her.

He thought about Molly. She too was a wonderful example of someone who showed unconditional love. She had loved Sherlock when he was unlovable, or at least appeared to be. Sherlock still had some time before Molly returned home, and with no more clients scheduled for the day, he decided to spend a little time reading Molly's diary. First though he wanted to plan something special, to show how much he appreciated her.

Sherlock booted up his laptop and did a search for Don Giovanni. He wanted to take Molly out to see the opera as a surprise, if anyone happened to be performing it in the near future.

Sherlock was extremely pleased when his search yielded a positive result. The Pleasance Theatre, a very small theatre, was doing performances of the opera, beginning on the 27th and finishing on November 4th. Sherlock mentally calculated Molly's weekend work schedule and determined she would not be working on the date of the final performance, which was a Saturday. He purchased two tickets online. He would be able to give his name at the box office and receive the tickets on the evening of the performance.

Satisfied, he closed his laptop, picked up Molly's diary and sat in his chair with his reading glasses. He wouldn't have much time to read today, but he knew reading Molly's words would make him feel close to her, and he needed that after such a difficult consultation.

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Same night (April)

Oh, Diary, I wasn't expecting to write in you again today, but I have to tell you about the news report I saw on the telly. Sherlock ended up in an altercation with the man he has been accusing of being a serial killer, and now he's in the hospital. I have to wonder what happened. With Sherlock being high, who knows what went on? That man, Smith, said he doesn't want to press charges. I can honestly say, I don't like that man, and if Sherlock says he is a serial killer, believe him, but I still don't understand why Sherlock needed to go to such lengths to try to get to the man. There was something slimy about the way he said Sherlock was going to get the best of care and that he might even move him to his favourite room, then gave a thumbs up. Who has a favourite room in a hospital? It's just weird, if you ask me. Anyway, maybe now that Sherlock is in hospital, he will get the treatment he needs. He certainly won't be able to shoot up again, which is a good thing. So perhaps this is a blessing in disguise, an answer to prayer. That's how I am going to think of it anyway, so thank you God. I think I might actually be able to sleep tonight, now that I know Sherlock is safe in hospital.

My darling, you always see the glass as half-full don't you? I never saw that interview with Smith, and reading your words, it is now rather chilling. You see, I know what his favourite room is. He told me himself when we toured the hospital and he took us there. It's the mortuary, Molly. So that makes things even clearer to me that he was planning my death. Of course, I was walking a fine line, as I was hoping to extract a confession from him. My coat, with its three recording devices hidden in it, ended up being of no use as he found them. He didn't find the recording device in John's cane though which John left in my room. I don't even remember the thought processes which led me to determine that John would actually leave his cane in the hospital room, so I guess I have to give credit to God for that. Interestingly enough, Smith's confession, which was recorded on that device, would probably have been deemed inadmissible in a court of law. Fortunately, Smith openly confessed to everything after that. Apparently it was therapeutic to finally tell everyone how clever he had been, I am indeed glad he is now languishing in jail for life. XOX

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Sherlock dropped the pencil and diary onto the desk beside his chair. He did the same with his reading glasses and then stared into space for some time. He couldn't help the way a shudder had run through him when he had read what Molly wrote about Culverton Smith's words about his favourite room. The man must have been laughing inside at his own little private joke. Once again, Sherlock relived those moments when Smith had been trying to suffocate him. Normally, Sherlock would have easily been able to prevent it, but he had been so weak from the drugs, malnourished, kidneys failing. Molly was right. He had been dying. He hadn't even really cared about dying, with the guilt he had still been feeling over Mary's death. Only when death had become a likely outcome at Smith's hands had Sherlock finally realised he didn't want to die after all.

He bend forwards and buried his face in his hands and suddenly, tears were pooling in the corners of his eyes and running down his cheeks.

A touch on his arm alerted him to Molly's presence. He'd been so lost in his memories and grief that he hadn't even heard her come in.

"Sherlock? What's got you so upset?"

He looked up at her and pulled her onto his lap, burying his face in her neck and inhaling the hospital smells that mixed with her scent.

Her arms came around him and she kissed his hair. She didn't ask anything else, and he appreciated the fact that she was allowing him to take his time.

Finally, he raised his head. "I was reading in your diary what you wrote that evening ,after you had examined me in the ambulance, the entry about me being in hospital."

"It brought back unpleasant memories, didn't it?" Her voice was sympathetic, and her small hands rubbed his back gently.

"Yes, but it wasn't just that. Do you remember writing how Smith said something you thought weird, about moving me to his favourite room?"

Molly furrowed her brow. "Vaguely."

He moved his hands to her shoulders. "Molly, he showed me and John what he called his favourite room during our little hospital tour. It's the mortuary."

Molly gasped, and he felt her fingers clutch his shirt convulsively. "Oh, dear God. He was planning to kill you even then? It's like you played right into his hands."

"Exactly. Premeditated murder."'

He saw tears gather in Molly's own eyes then. "He nearly succeeded. I almost lost you forever. If your survival isn't a clear indicator of God's intervention, I don't know anything that could make it more clear that you were saved for a purpose."

"I know that now, and I think that is enabling me to act with more compassion in my detective work." He thought about Nathaniel Dawson and elaborated on that comment to Molly, explaining about the consultation in general terms.

"On, that poor man. I'm glad you were able to show your faith in a small way. You really are a different man now." She paused, then added, "Sometimes, I wonder if I should have shared my faith with you earlier, after you nearly died. I could have pointed out that your survival convinced me that God had a higher purpose for you, and perhaps it would have made you consider at least opening a Bible. But then, you didn't have one, did you?"

Sherlock cleared his throat and dropped his hands from her shoulders to her waist. "Actually, I did have one, but the only time I ever opened it was during that one case when I thought it might contain the answers to a cipher I was working on."'

Molly's brows lifted. "What case was that?"

He felt a little embarrassed to tell her, remembering the blatant way he had deliberately complimented her on her hairstyle to charm her into doing what he wanted. "It was the one where I asked if you could wheel out a couple bodies for me, where I just wanted to see the feet of the men and look for a tattoo that indicated they were part of the same international smuggling ring."

Molly's lips pursed. "I'll never forget the way you flirted with me about my hair that day. I knew you did it on purpose to get your way, but it still made me feel good."

His lips quirked. "You wrote in your diary that you knew I was manipulating you. It was a little embarrassing to discover I was so transparent."

"I might have had a crush on you, but I was nobody's fool." She tilted her head at him. "Well, tell me about this Bible. How did you get one, when you were an atheist? I'm a little surprised you would have owned something that held no value for you."

"My parents sent it to me at uni, for my twenty-first birthday. I was so angry with them trying to push their religion on me. I regret to say I called and told them I no longer wished to acknowledge my birthday, and that if they continued to do so, I would just return any gifts they sent me." His eyes dropped away from Molly's. "I was already using at the time, and I think they were making one last attempt to reach me, to save me from myself. Unfortunately, it backfired. It took Mycroft to get me into rehab and then enlist me into MI6 to straighten me out."

Molly leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. And yet, you never threw the Bible away."

"Surprising, isn't it? I don't even know why I kept it or even put it into the bookcase here. I regret now that it was destroyed, along with my other books, during the explosion."

"I wonder what would have happened if you had found your Bible after what happened with Culverton Smith?"

"Well, he did make me realise I didn't want to die. I wish I had thought to look for the answers to life. Perhaps it would have changed my reactions at Sherrinford."

"It's an interesting idea," said Molly, "but it is what it is, and you're a Christian now, so that is all that matters to me. And I love that we've been reading the Bible together." She looked up to kiss his cheek.

He smiled at her, and his hands held her more firmly. He enjoyed it when she sat on his lap. "I've been thinking, perhaps at some point, when I have finished reading the Bible in English, I should purchase a New Testament with Greek text. I still remember you telling me how the Bible used different versions of the word love in the Greek text. It would be interesting to read the Greek, to discover which terms of love are used in what places."

Molly looked at him with surprise clearly etched on her features. "You read Greek?"

"I'm not fluent, by any means. I've never had a need to speak it for a case, but I did take the language at Eton, along with Latin."

"It would be fascinating to read the Bible in the Greek language." She returned her head to rest against his shoulder. "I seem to recall you mentioning years ago that you went to Eton. Why didn't you follow that education with going to either Oxford or Cambridge? You would surely have been accepted at either university."

Sherlock pursed his lips. "You are only permitted to apply for one of them. At my parents' insistence, I did apply at Oxford and was accepted. In the end, I decided I did not wish to attend an institution where my brother had gone before me and be compared to him. I also desired to reside in London, and I had been accepted to Queen Mary University, so that is where I went, as you know."

"I still think it is amazing we both went to the same university, even though you had left before I began."

Sherlock removed a hand from Molly's waist to tilt her chin upwards and kissed her. Having Molly on his lap, being so close to her, was starting to affect him in a way that made him want more than just kisses.

Reluctantly, he ended the kiss. He wanted to tell her a little about the plans he had made for the next month. They also needed to have some dinner, so he supposed those things should be got out of the way before they indulged in more pleasurable pursuits.

"I have something else to tell you, love, and this is something good."

Molly rubbed her hands idly along his back. "What is it?"

"I've made plans for us to go out somewhere special on the fourth of November. I thought you could wear that lovely evening gown you purchased on Saturday, and we can go out for dinner beforehand."

"Why? Is it a special occasion or something?"

Sherlock frowned at her. "Why do I need a special occasion to take my wife somewhere special? It's just an idea I had, and I think you will enjoy it. That's all I am going to say."

Molly pouted for a moment, but then the corners of her mouth lifted. "I am not going to complain about it, and I'll just look forward to this surprise of yours with anticipation. Besides, it will be nice to wear my new dress while I am still able to fit into it." She gave a contented sigh and snuggled up against him again. "I couldn't ask for a better husband."

"I'd do anything for you, Molly. We should probably have dinner now." He gave her bum a little tap. All this smuggling against him was causing his body to have its usual reaction.

Molly scrambled off his lap and gave him a flirtatious look. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a little dessert first?" Her gaze drifted downwards, and he knew she had been aware of the effect she was having on him.

When she put it that way...well, dinner could wait. "Very well, my love, if you insist."

She reached out a hand to him with a self-satisfied smirk, and they went to enjoy their pre-dinner dessert.

And much later that night, when Sherlock went to sleep with his wife once more in his arms, he dreamed another of those "what-if" scenarios, where he found his Bible in the bookcase after the Culverton Smith incident, and Molly revealed her faith to him.

Author's note: It's generally considered that parents with blue eyes will have blue-eyed children, because of the recessive gene. That's what I was taught in Biology many years ago. I loved genetics. When I researched this story to make sure my facts were correct, I was surprised to discover that there is a very small chance of blue-eyed parents having a child who is not blue-eyed. That-research is why Sherlock knew that, but the odds, given the details about the case itself, would have indicated the high probability of the child being the other man's. I hope you enjoyed reading it! It gave me the opportunity to show how Sherlock has become more compassionate.

Did you ever pick up on the connection between Culverton's talk about his favourite room on the news and in person to Sherlock and John? I only made that connection a few months ago. Chilling, isn't it? I'd love to know if my readers found this to be a revelation or not, so don't hesitate to respond!

Also, if I sound quite detailed about the location of a place performing Don Giovanni, that is because there really was one being performed at that time - how fortuitous!

The discussion about Sherlock's Bible from his parents came about many months after the original writing of this chapter, after I saw a gif-set from reader Penelope Chesnut which showed Sherlock looking at the Bible. She had used scenes from The Blind Banker. Seeing that gif-set ignited curiosity within me about how things might have gone differently if Sherlock had re-discovered his Bible after the Culverton Smith incident, which made me decide to write a dream about it.

I have been slowly writing that dream since May and only completed it (in 11 chapters) a couple weeks ago, so I will be publishing that before I continue publishing the diary.

So, stand by for the first chapter of The Good Book, which I should begin publishing in 2 weeks, alternating with Journey to a New Home chapters.