Author's note: So sorry to make you wait over a month for this. I have been publishing twice-weekly to get my Christmas and New Year stories up, and I didn't want to make you wait another week for this, so here's the next chapter. I hope you think it is worth the wait!

Thank you to all the brilliant readers who so faithfully follow and respond to the chapters of this story. I am overwhelmed by the positive reception I've received on it. Despite the angst being over, I hope you continue to look forward to the rest. I know typically you get to the climax of a story, then the happy ending follows it right away, but I have a tendency to continue the happy ending for a few chapters, and I do enjoy finishing my stories with a lovely wedding and wedding night that is well deserved for the characters!

Sherlock awoke to complete silence in the flat. He could hear the noise of traffic outside.

He was surprised to see it was just after seven o'clock. Presumably Molly had already left for work. He was a little disappointed that he hadn't had the opportunity to see her before she left.

He couldn't help smiling a little as he opened the wardrobe to take out a shirt. It really was extraordinary that she had kept his clothes all these years. It certainly made things convenient for an overnight stay, although he felt it would be best if that did not happen again.

He recalled his cavalier words to John. "If we get to the point of intimacy, it will be at the right time, not like those ridiculous films where extreme circumstances lead couples straight to the bedroom." How clearly he could see now that he and Molly could all too easily fall prey to their own feelings and give in to them. He still thought films where people got carried away when they barely knew one another were preposterous, but he did have a long history with Molly. So that was probably the reason why he felt they were struggling to control their emotions. They were already committed to one another. Thinking of John made him also realise he'd have to tell his friend he'd proposed after all. John would probably find that hilarious.

Yes, he decided, I'll invite John over to Baker Street this afternoon for a short while when the cleaners are there, then go to the hospital to meet Molly after work so we can go ring-shopping.

Sherlock dressed and made the bed, placing his tartan pyjamas neatly on the end of it. He might be a slob in most things, but the one thing he had always done was make his bed, due to his mother's constant reminders whilst growing up in Sussex.

He prepared a cup of coffee, seeing that Molly had washed her coffee cup and put it on the dish drainer.

He took his cup to the table, where he saw a note.

I had to peek in at you to make sure the events of the past day were real and not a dream, but I didn't want to wake you. Help yourself to anything you want for breakfast. I'll text you once I get in touch with my pastor, hopefully before you go to the meeting with your parents. Let me know if you still want to go out this evening to look for rings. It's okay if you don't. I don't need a ring to know you love me. I love you. XX

He smiled at the note and folded it carefully, tucking it into his wallet. It was nice to have a tangible piece of evidence that proved she loved him as much as he loved her.

Sherlock was in a taxi on his way to Mycroft's office at the SIS building, when his text alert sounded.

He brought out his phone to read Molly's message.

We have a date! Five weeks from this Saturday. I said 3pm, hope the time is okay for you. I also took the liberty of booking our church hall for a small reception. I figured you'd want to invite your family, and I have a few colleagues to invite, including my friend, Kaitlyn, who I plan to ask to be my maid of honour. Are you going to ask John to be your best man?

Sherlock sent a response.

Glad that is settled. I will make an appointment for us to register for our marriage. John already told me he'd be happy to be my best man, when I told him I planned to see you to tell you I truly loved you. Guess he had a premonition. I will ask him officially later today. Then I will be at the hospital when you finish work so we can find you an appropriate ring - and yes, I still wish to find you one today. You finish at four?

He waited for Molly's response, which arrived just before the taxi pulled up in front of the SIS building.

Yes, at four. I'll see you then.

By the time Sherlock was shown into Mycroft's office by Anthea, his parents were already there, seated on two chairs facing Mycroft's desk. Mycroft was sitting at his desk, hands folded in front of him.

His mother rose and embraced him. "What is going on with you two? I hope you haven't got yourselves into trouble? Mycroft refused to say anything until you arrived." She looked him up and down. "It doesn't look like you've had a relapse, have you?"

"I'm clean, Mummy," responded Sherlock. "I have not touched any drugs since I finished the Culverton Smith case."

His mother looked relieved. "Thank God for that." She took her seat again, as Sherlock's father acknowledged him with a nod.

"Son, good to see you."

"You too." Sherlock positioned himself at the rear wall, arms folded, ready to jump in if necessary.

Facing Mycroft once again, Sherlock's mother said, "Well, what's going on?"

And Mycroft proceeded to tell her the news that Eurus Holmes was still alive.

He heard the indignation in his parents' voices and the hurt, as they questioned Mycroft on his deception, standing in their indignation, and the way his mother said, "Then you should have done better."

Sherlock felt compelled to interject with, "He did his best."

"Then he's very limited," was her retort.

Mycroft continued to explain that Eurus was back at Sherrinford, in a state of catatonia.

Sherlock was surprised to be addressed by his mother, and he looked up from where he had been contemplating his shoes, wishing he was anywhere but here.

"Well?" she demanded. "You were always the grown up. What do we do now?"

Sherlock knew her words were just meant to hurt Mycroft. He'd never been the grown up. Mycroft had always been the one to look after him.

But suddenly he had an idea. "Perhaps music could help bring her out of her catatonia. She enjoys the violin. I could visit her and play."

Mycroft nodded his head. "I suppose that could be arranged."

"We will come and see her too," said his mother imperiously, and Mycroft inclined his head.

Sherlock could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was still very angry, and even his father's back was stiff. It was time to defuse the situation with some good news.

He walked to stand at the edge of Mycroft's desk, so he could see his parents. "There's something else you should know."

His mother gave him a searching glance. "Please, no more bad news. I don't think my heart could take it."

He had to smile at that. And people called him a drama queen? His mother was healthier than women half her age. "It is probably the best news you will ever hear, Mummy."

His mother gave a short laugh. "The best news I could ever hear would be to know that you are settling down and getting married, which I've come to see over the past few years is a remote possibility. Now, that would be a true miracle."

Sherlock stood erect and clasped his hands behind his back. "Then I guess you could say a miracle has happened, Mummy. I am indeed to be married."

His mother and father gave him an astonished look. Then his mother gave him a suspicious one. "Have you and your brother been conspiring to distract your father and me from being angry about this news of your sister?"

Sherlock looked at her calmly. "No, Mummy. What occurred brought back my memories of losing my best friend, Victor, and it also brought back my emotions along with it. I was able to acknowledge my love for a woman who has stood by me for years as a trusted friend."

"Well, thank the Lord it is a woman and not your friend, John," responded Sherlock's mother. He couldn't help grinning at the sudden, enthusiastic note in her voice as she continued with, "Who is this trusted friend, then? I was not aware that you had any long-standing acquaintance with any woman."

"Her name is Doctor Molly Hooper, and she is the pathologist who was instrumental in helping me successfully fake my death. We have worked together quite often on cases where she has done the post-mortems."

His mother clasped her hands together. "When can we meet her?"

"At the wedding, if not earlier. We are planning to marry five weeks from Saturday."

"That's news to me," came Mycroft's voice. "But you have neglected to inform our parents of even happier tidings."

Sherlock heard the rather mocking note in his brother's voice and looked at him, puzzled. "What tidings?"

"That you have found religion, of course."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Becoming a Christian is not finding religion, Mycroft."

His father gained his attention. "You are no longer an atheist, Sherlock? You believe in God?" There was a note of wonder in his father's voice.

Sherlock looked at both his parents. "Since I concluded the Culverton Smith case, I have been studying the Bible you gave me years ago. Molly has been helping me to understand it, and I not only believe in God, I believe in all the Bible has to say."

He saw tears shimmering in his mother's eyes. "This is the happiest day of my life." Her gaze flicked to Mycroft, but Sherlock saw she was no longer angry. "My daughter is alive, and I am to gain a daughter-in-law. But, heavens, how will you arrange a wedding in such a short time, and why the haste?"

Sherlock looked at his mother meaningfully. "There are certain guidelines in the Bible we intend to follow, so we do not wish for a protracted engagement."

He could have sworn his mother blushed at that. Then she nodded her head, and he knew she understood what he meant. "It seems your father and I will be sticking around for some time so we can visit with Eurus, so I am happy to help with any wedding arrangements." She gave Mycroft a stern look. "I expect your father and I can stay with you for as long as needed?"

"Er, yes, of course." Mycroft's tone was almost meek, and Sherlock knew his brother was relieved to be spared any further tongue-lashing.

Sherlock looked at Mycroft. "Well, I'll let you fill in our parents on recent events. I need to go to Baker Street and oversee some cleaners."

Mycroft nodded. "I'll have Anthea escort you out."

A couple minutes later, Anthea was walking Sherlock back to the front entrance, even as Sherlock heard his mother say. "What was Sherlock talking about, overseeing some cleaners?" Oh yes, Sherlock had the feeling explaining everything from the explosion to what had transpired at Sherrinford would take quite some time. He was content to let Mycroft take care of it.

As Sherlock made his way to Baker Street, he sent John a text, and John responded that he would drop off Rosie with Stella and meet him there.

No sooner had Sherlock arrived in the front hallway of 221 Baker Street, than Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat. "You didn't say goodbye, yesterday." She pursed her lips. "And I didn't hear you come home last night either. Did you stay with John?"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Actually, I stayed over at Molly's."

Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened. "Are you saying you and Molly are involved? Have you been hiding a relationship from me? I've seen her here several times lately, what with helping you through your withdrawal and all, but I never thought of you and her being," she took a long slow breath, and almost whispered the word, "intimate."

Sherlock felt a flush creeping up his neck. "Molly and I have begun a romantic relationship, yes, but we are not having sex. We'd like that to wait for our wedding night, which will be five weeks from this Saturday."

His landlady's eyes widened in astonishment. "My heavens, from being a confirmed bachelor to getting married, it's remarkable!" Her eyes narrowed suddenly with suspicion. "Or are you actually on a case and just pretending to be involved with Molly, as you were with that Janine woman?"

Sherlock frowned. "Of course I'm not joking, although I suppose I can forgive you for thinking that, after how I used Janine. I can assure you, however, my relationship with Molly is very real. In fact, I am meeting her at the hospital after she finishes work so I can purchase her an engagement ring and we can make things official."

She gave him a shrewd look. "I'd ask why the haste, but given that you said you plan to wait for your wedding night for sex, it makes sense." She patted his arm, and Sherlock felt himself flush again. "You are a true gentleman, Sherlock Holmes. She's a lucky woman."

He shook his head. "I'm the lucky one." Then he switched the subject. "When are the cleaners coming?"

"Oh, they said between eleven and twelve, so any time now. There are two men coming to replace the front windows as well."

Sherlock nodded. "Good. I'll be upstairs. John is coming over, so can you let him in when he arrives?"

"Of course, dear."

Sherlock bounded up the stairs to his flat and opened the door. It really was a terrible mess. He was glad he didn't have to deal with the cleanup himself. Thank God for Mrs. Hudson, taking the initiative.

John and the two cleaners arrived at the same time, and Sherlock came out of his bedroom, where he had been plucking at the strings of his violin.

Sherlock made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning, picking up the bison skull that usually hung on the wall between the front windows. John placed the usual, surprisingly intact headphones back on it, and Sherlock set it temporarily on the mantel.

As the cleaners continued their work, and the men replacing the windows arrived, John stood by Sherlock's chair and asked., "So, what happened with Molly yesterday? All good?"

Sherlock nodded. "She's a remarkable woman, John. I am pleased to say that we discussed things and have come to the mutual decision we should marry as soon as possible."

John looked shocked. "You actually did it? You proposed? My God, you really didn't waste any time, did you?"

"What is the point in waiting? We love one another, and we want to be together. I will not let my one opportunity for happiness slip through my fingers. She's the only one for me, John. If you were truly sincere about wishing to be my best man, please mark off your calendar for five weeks from this Saturday. That's the day."

John blinked, still seeming slightly befuddled. "Er, yes, of course." Then he bent down to whisper in Sherlock's ear, so the cleaning men would not be able to hear, and for which Sherlock was very grateful. "If you need any tips on sex, I'm here for you, mate."

Sherlock snorted. "I think I shall manage quite well without your advice, thank you very much."

John chuckled. "If you say so."

With that topic of conversation out of the way, Sherlock and John talked of other things, how Rosamund was progressing, of when they would resume doing cases together and the like.

By the time the windows were replaced, and the cleaners had removed all the debris so that the flat was just in need of a good sweeping, Sherlock realised it was time to leave to meet Molly. John also needed to pick up his daughter, so they left Baker Street together.

Sherlock flagged down a taxi and, for once, allowed John to take it, which surprised his friend. He merely shrugged. "That's what Christians do." he explained. "Put others first."

John gave him a look of respect. "Wow, you really are serious, aren't you? With not only Molly but this new belief of yours?"

"I am. Now get going so I can take the next taxi," Sherlock said. He might be a Christian now, but that didn't mean being a complete doormat.

During the taxi ride, Sherlock looked for the Westminster Register office website online and booked an appointment for Friday. That would give Molly and himself time to gather all their paperwork needed and for Molly to request leaving work a little early.

When Sherlock arrived at the hospital, he went upstairs immediately, not bothering to check the mortuary. She was unlikely to be doing a post-mortem when she was due to finish her shift.

He opened the door to the lab, and she looked up, giving him a dazzling smile. "You're early."

He looked at his watch. "Only by a few minutes. I suppose I could have waited for you in the locker room."

"Well, seeing as you are here now, I wouldn't say no to a hello kiss before I put these things," she gestured at the various paraphernalia scattered around her microscope, "away."

She stepped away from the table as he approached, and he took her in his arms, kissing her thoroughly. He loved the softness of her lips. All those wasted years, thinking himself above such things. That callous remark he'd made about her mouth being too small. He'd been an idiot. Covering her lips with his showed him how perfectly they fit together. He felt that euphoria rise within himself, that flicker of flame ignite, and he pulled away reluctantly. His hand caressed her flushed cheek. "I'll wait by the door while you finish up."

She nodded, and he watched her put things away, setting the lab in the order he knew she liked to keep it.

A few minutes later, they were heading out of the hospital.

"How did things go with your parents?" asked Molly, as soon as they were settled in the taxi.

Sherlock took her hand, his thumb tracing circles over her palm. "They were angry with Mycroft for keeping the truth about Eurus from them for so many years, but Mummy was sufficiently distracted when I told them about you, that she forgot how angry she was. In the end, she said she was very pleased to not only have her daughter back, but to be gaining a daughter-in-law as well. They will be staying in town for a little while so they can visit Eurus at Sherrinford. I will also be going there. I wish to see if she can be brought out of her catatonia by playing my violin."

"That's a wonderful idea," said Molly. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he inhaled the fragrance of her shampoo and lab smells. It was uniquely Molly, and comforting.

"My parents, John, Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson are all aware of the date of our upcoming nuptials. I have also made an appointment for the Register office for four o'clock on Friday. Can you get the time off?"

"I'm sure Mike will be fine with that. I'll just ask if I can start an hour earlier and finish at three instead."

"Good."

They settled into comfortable silence until the taxi pulled up at Westfield London, at John's suggestion of a place that had many jewellery shops.

"So," asked Sherlock as they walked into the first jewellery shop, holding hands, "do you have any idea what kind of ring you would like?"

"Not like the one I had from Tom," she said immediately.

"Agreed. So, a ring with diamonds in the setting of the band is out. Anything else?"

Molly shrugged. "I have no idea. Isn't that supposed to be your decision?"

Sherlock chewed on his lower lip as they headed towards a display case. "I have no clue either. I just want you to be content with wearing a ring for the rest of your life."

She glanced up at him before looking down at the display case. "The ring is merely a symbol. All I care about is that you love me. That being said, I don't want anything too ostentatious." She gestured at the display. "These are all entirely too fancy for me."

Sherlock looked down and had to agree. Flamboyant settings surrounded diamonds of various sizes and shapes. Rings like that would dwarf Molly's delicate fingers.

Some type of solitaire then, he decided. "Let's go somewhere else."

They went to another shop, and he asked Molly to point to any rings that she found appealing. Not surprisingly, her taste was simple, always some kind of solitaire, and never one with an overly large stone. She always picked ones with a gold band as well.

But none of the rings spoke to him until they entered the third shop.

It was there he saw the one he knew was meant for Molly, in a shape he had not seen previously. It was a heart. Molly had lingered at a different display case that held a selection of locket necklaces.

He decided he wanted to purchase the ring without her seeing it first. He just hoped it would be the right size for her finger. "Stay here, Molly," he said, walking to where she was bending to look at a locket with the inscription, Always in my Heart.b He made a mental note to come back and buy it as a wedding gift. "I've found the ring I am hoping you will agree is perfect, so I don't want you to see it. I may have already proposed, but I would like to present it to you properly, rather than have you just put it on immediately."

A wrinkle formed between her brows. "Now you are going to make me wait until I can wear it?"

"Not too long, I promise, unless it needs to be resized." He tucked a strand of hair that had fallen forward as she leaned over the display case, behind her ear. "Remember what I said about you deserving to be happy? I want to make things perfect."

She smiled at him. "Alright then."

Sherlock caught the attention of a shop assistant and went back to the display case with the ring he wanted to purchase.

"A fine choice, sir," said the man, taking it out of the display and handing it to Sherlock for his perusal.

Sherlock looked at the band, mentally inserting Molly's finger inside it. The dimensions were perfect, he thought, relieved. There would be no need to wait for it to be resized, and he came up with an idea on how he could present it to Molly later that evening.

Sherlock handed the ring back to the shop assistant. "It's perfect. I will take it."

Purchase made, Sherlock walked back to Molly, who had been studiously avoiding looking in his direction. A smile graced her lips as she saw him carrying the small bag.

"Success, I take it?"

"Success," he affirmed. "Now, let's find a place to go for dinner."

With his free hand, he took hold of Molly's again, and they found a restaurant inside the vast shopping centre that looked a little more fancy than some of the other eating establishments.

They were shown to a table, and Molly said, "I'm going to just pop to the loo."

"I'll order a bottle of wine in the meantime," Sherlock told her. "This is a special occasion, after all." He was pleased. He had been contemplating how he would enact his plan, and Molly had given him the perfect opportunity.

There was a carafe of water on the table, and Sherlock quickly poured two glasses of water.

A waitress approached the table. "Would you like to look at the wine menu, sir?" she asked.

"In just one moment," Sherlock answered. "I need to do something first."

He took the ring box out of the bag, extracted the ring and put it into Molly's water glass. How long would it take her until she noticed?

The waitress smiled. "Oh, how romantic! You're going to propose!"

His lips quirked. "Actually, I already did, but I wanted to give my fiancée," he liked the way the word sounded, "her ring in a special way."

"She's a lucky woman," responded the waitress with a smile.

Sherlock closed the bag with the now-empty ring box and shoved it into his pocket. "I'll take a look at the wine list now."

He made his selection, and the waitress departed after leaving two menus for him and Molly to look at.

Molly returned, and Sherlock stood to help her into her seat, before taking his own again.

"Did you order the wine?" she asked. "I should probably have told you I don't really care for dry wine, not that I drink a lot of it. I definitely prefer a sweeter one."

"I anticipated your palate would be inclined towards sweet, so I ordered a bottle of white Zinfandel," he told her.

"Oh, lovely. I've had that before, and I do like it." Molly did not look at her glass of water, even though he deliberately took a sip of his, hoping she would follow his lead.

The waitress returned with the bottle and opened it, pouring a little into Sherlock's wine glass. He sipped it and nodded his approval, and the waitress filled their wine glasses.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order," she said, placing the bottle in a wine cooler on the table.

Molly picked up her menu and her wine glass for a sip. "Oh, I had forgotten how good white Zinfandel is. I haven't had it in ages." She took a second sip.

She set down the glass and looked at her menu, and Sherlock began to fidget. Was she ever going to take a sip of water? Now that the wine had arrived, perhaps she wouldn't even notice.

Molly laid down her menu. "Well, I've made my choice. How about you?"

Sherlock put down his menu and lifted his water glass once more to his lips. Take a sip of water, he urged her silently. Aloud he said, "Yes, I am ready to order as soon as the waitress returns."

To Sherlock's dismay, Molly joined him in taking a sip, but of her wine, rather than her water, before looking around. "I hope it will be soon. I'm really hungry. All I had for lunch today was a bag of crisps."

Sherlock suddenly realised he had not eaten lunch, and he was hungry too. But that was nothing compared to the impatience he was feeling at Molly's continued obliviousness with regard to the ring sitting in her water glass.

Another minute passed, and Sherlock watched her fingers drift towards her wine glass yet again, and he uttered an internal groan, thinking he should have ordered a dry wine she did not care for. Then, seeming to think better of it, she reached for her water glass at last and lifted it.

It was halfway to her lips when she noticed the ring at the base of the glass and gasped, raising the fingers of her free hand to her lips. "Sherlock, is this what I think it is?"

He rolled his eyes. "Took you long enough to see it. Of course it is. I'd hardly think diamond rings make their way into glasses of water too often. It would bankrupt the restaurant if they did that for their patrons as a matter of course."'

She giggled. "I've always loved your dry sense of humour." She lifted the glass higher so she could see the ring. "It's gorgeous, Sherlock! I've never seen a heart-shaped diamond. But how am I to get it out of the glass?"

"With your fingers, of course." Then he added, "Actually, let me. I'd like to place the ring on your finger now."'

Her eyes were shining as she held out the glass to him, and he took it, easily dipping his long forefinger into the glass and hooking the ring onto the tip of it, then withdrawing it slowly, holding his finger against the glass so the ring wouldn't topple back in.

Molly set the glass down as Sherlock wiped the ring dry with his serviette. "Hold out your hand," he told her.

He could see tears in her eyes and the slight tremble of her hand as she complied.

He slid the ring onto her finger, exerting a little more pressure to ease it over her knuckle until it was in place. "It's official," he said, smiling. "You are now my fiancée, Molly."

Molly blinked back tears and raised her hand to her face to look at it more closely, even as the waitress returned to take their order.

"Oh," she exclaimed. "She found it!" She looked at Molly. "Congratulations, ma'am." Then her eyes widened as she looked at Sherlock again. "Aren't you Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock nodded. "I am." He was not surprised she had not recognised him immediately. The restaurant was rather dimly lighted.

"Oh, my God. I'm the first person to find out you're getting married?"

His lips quirked. "Aside from family and friends, that would be correct. I'd appreciate you not spreading it around until we announce our engagement formally."

She nodded. "Oh yes, absolutely. And here my friends and me were thinking you were gay but hiding it from the public. We thought those tabloid articles about you and that woman were just to hide your true sexuality. Guess we had that wrong."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and Molly smirked as the woman seemed to realise how inappropriate her words were. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I have a tendency to speak before I think. Don't mind me." She cleared her throat and lifted her notepad. "Are you ready to order?"

"We are."

After the waitress left them, Molly commented, "That waitress reminds me of Kaitlyn. She doesn't think before she speaks either." She snickered. "You, gay. That's something I never even considered."

He made a face. "Well, thank God for that. I'll never understand this propensity people have for insisting that two men must be sexually attracted to one another if they spend time working together. Makes no sense to me."

Molly shrugged as she took another sip of her wine and said, "I don't get it either."

Sherlock couldn't help grinning at the way Molly, a woman who proclaimed herself to not be much of a drinker, had three glasses of the wine with her dinner. He wondered if she was as much of a lightweight as he was. He certainly hadn't handled his alcohol consumption well on John's stag night, although he still couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how he had become so inebriated after only a few beers.

Sherlock was rather relieved when he and Molly were able to leave the restaurant after their meal. From the curious glances being directed their way, he had the distinct feeling the waitress had blabbed all to her work colleagues.

"Thank you for dinner, Sherlock," said Molly, holding the remainder of the bottle of Zinfandel she had plucked from the table, as he hailed a taxi. Oh yes, he could see she had definitely enjoyed the wine. "Did you want to come back to my place for a while?"

"I would like that very much, but I had best not stay too late. I do not want us to find ourselves in a situation like last night."

"I suppose you are right." He saw the look of disappointment on her face. Then she brightened. "Well, you can stay until we finish the bottle of wine." She giggled.

He was definitely going to have to suggest she not drink any more, either. Alcohol could certainly release the inhibitions, and he could see quite clearly that Molly had been telling the truth about how little she imbibed. Three glasses of wine, and she seemed already affected by the alcohol, especially when she put the bottle to one side of her and pulled him in for a lingering kiss as soon as they entered the taxi.

He had a feeling it was going to take every ounce of willpower he possessed to leave her and return to Baker Street and solitude. Uninhibited Molly was a dangerous cocktail.

Author's note: Ah, a little cliffhanger for you! Aren't you glad I didn't publish this one before Christmas and leave you hanging for a month?

So, I included the canon scene from the show with the Holmes parents finding out about Eurus. I hope you liked the way I integrated this chapter into the canon narrative and then continued it with my own.

Did you like Sherlock's way of presenting Molly with her ring? I must admit, I'm rather proud of the way I described how he removed the ring from the glass to put it on Molly's finger. I hope you were able to visualize it as clearly as I was.

And here we see a slightly intoxicated Molly, reminiscent of what she was like after having too much to drink in my initial story, A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage. I do quite like showing that Molly isn't always this paragon of virtue. I know a few people think she's well acquainted with the bottle, but I don't think that would be true to her character at all.

Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed this update, and that you look forward to finding out what happens - any guesses?

I look forward to your responses, as usual!