Special note: Indeed, guest reviewer, I do not wish to argue over the ethics of buying new cars, but I do like to defend my position. Your opinion is your own, and that is fine. I must say though, your line of "I assume you meant for the dealer to be polite and willing to negotiate this. They wouldn't," is incorrect. I know for a fact negotiation is possible, as my husband did a lot of online research when getting ready to buy our car. He found better deals online and negotiated a better price as well as a couple extra add-ons when we went to a car dealership. Car dealerships do have quotas for selling per month, and I have read that the best time to buy is towards the end of the month (which is what we did). There are other car-buying tips out there too. I'm sorry you feel so passionate about this and want me to change my story, but I will not change the integrity of my story to placate someone. I've offended people before in the way I write, but this is my story, and I'm entitled to write as I see fit. I really wish people would be as passionate in reviewing with things they LIKE in a story, rather than only being motivated to leave a comment when it is to criticize something they don't. Not sure why people find it easier to criticize than compliment or thank someone for the extraordinary effort it takes to create an interesting work by not only writing it, but also editing, proof-reading, editing again, more proof-reading over and over. I hope you understand, I have no problem in receiving constructive criticism, but there's a difference in opinionated criticism and something that is meant to help a writer to improve their craft. Perhaps next time, you will think about leaving positive reviews for an author if you like their work. That's what we really need, to know our work is appreciated, not to be criticized in such a passionate manner for a character's behaviour. Sadly, I know of people who have quit writing due to negative feedback. I'd much rather be a reason someone keeps going by leaving positive feedback and encouragement.

Finally, as much as possible, I try to write about real situations, not fantasy, in my stories - things that are relatable to others. New car buying is a perfectly normal thing for people to do. There are many reasons for buying new, as opposed to second-hand, and vice versa, It's just a matter of personal opinion. I admire your passion, but please try using it in a positive way that reflects Christ's love if you are a Christian. If you are not, well, thanks for reading anyway, and I hope you are touched in a positive way by the Christian themes in my stories.

Sunday, July 7, 2019

It was two o'clock, and a sizable group of people was assembled in one of the large Sunday School rooms at the rear of the church. In fact, it was the room where Sherlock attended Narcotics Anonymous meetings on occasion.

Sherlock and John had set out chairs in a large circle, the way they were arranged for NA meetings. There was a table to the side with coffee and tea ready if anyone wished for a drink. Molly had baked ginger nuts, knowing they were Sherlock's favourite, while chocolate chip cookies were Kayla's contribution, if anyone wished for a snack.

Sherlock looked around at everyone holding their scripts for the play. Most people were from church, including Archie, who was looking extremely proud to be there. His mother, Allison, as a non-participant, was sitting in another chair outside the circle. Non-church people were Philip Anderson, Greg Lestrade and Martha Hudson, to whom Sherlock had handed scripts with their parts already highlighted by Molly when they arrived. Sherlock had waited at the front of the church to show them where to go for the read-through. At least they had all been here before when they had attended Sherlock and Molly's wedding.

The previous Sunday, when Sherlock had handed out copies of the script at church to all the people currently assigned with speaking parts, he had suggested they take them home and highlight their character's name each time it was shown, so that they would know where their lines and actions occurred. His own copy of the script had orange highlighter over every time the word Jesus was used before he had a line to speak. Of course, he had the biggest role to learn. It was just as well he had a memory that retained information with ease, even as he had easily learned that George V speech from Shakespeare years earlier while at Eton College.

Kayla and Lori Lestrade had gone to the church nursery to look after Victoria, Rosie and Adam so there would be no distractions. Kayla had volunteered to do this herself, seeing as she had no speaking part in the play, but Lori, who had come along to offer "moral support" for Greg, had claimed she would like the opportunity to do a little babysitting. She and Greg were expecting their own blessed event in early January and had only just revealed the news to family and friends.

There definitely seemed to be a baby boom going on this year. Kayla had been the first in their circle of friends to give birth, and now Molly and Lori were pregnant. Abigail and Caleb were expecting again towards the end of September, and Sherlock hoped their baby didn't decide to make an early appearance with the play performance due to be mid-September. Mycroft's assistant, Anthea, who had married in February, was also expecting her first child in early August,. In fact, her due date was Sherlock and Molly's wedding anniversary, the fifth.

Sherlock glanced over at Molly. She was standing, biting her lip, and he sidled over to her. "Time to call the meeting to order, don't you think?" he said in a low voice.

"I prefer being behind the scenes," her lips twisted into a wry smile, "but you're right."

She cleared her throat. "Hello everyone, and thanks for coming! Let's all sit down and start by introducing ourselves."

When everyone was seated and introductions were complete, they began to read.

Molly was filling in as narrator for now, and she also read out Mycroft's single line as the voice of God. Sherlock and Molly had decided it would not be necessary for Mycroft to take the time out of his busy schedule for such a small part so early in the process.

Molly also read the lines for Satan tempting Jesus in the wilderness, as the part was yet to be assigned.

As Molly did the narration, Sherlock thought he should have suggested she do it for the play, but it was too late now. Anyway, if she did the narration, she wouldn't get to pretend to wash his feet with the perfume and dry them with her hair, and he didn't want anyone else near his feet.

When they finished the scene in which Jesus walked on water, there was a note that this would be the point at which someone would sing the song, Oceans, and Molly announced it was time to take a break so everyone could stretch their legs and have refreshments.

Sherlock wasted no time in making sure he was first to take a ginger nut biscuit, two actually. Molly had baked enough to leave some at home, but he never missed the opportunity to eat hers.

John walked up to him, took a chocolate chip cookie from the other plate of biscuits and asked, "So, are you planning to grow a beard? Am I supposed to do so?"

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him. "With the way a moustache ages you, I think you'd be best just sticking to using a fake one. I shall do the same."

John punched his arm lightly. "Did I ever tell you that Mary teased me about the way I shaved that moustache off after you came back? I tried to deny that I was doing it because of your comments about it, but she knew you were the reason I shaved it off. The moustache was almost like I was trying to separate myself from the man I'd been before you left."

Molly approached and tucked a hand through Sherlock's arm. "What's this about you wanting to separate yourself from the man you had been?"

"John grew a moustache during my two-year absence," Sherlock explained. "It looked absolutely ridiculous, and I may have alluded to the fact several times."

Molly looked at them open-mouthed as John snorted and said, "Your silly black eye pencil moustache wasn't any better."

"What am I missing here?" asked Molly, looking from one to the other.

"Too long to explain right now. If you remind me about it, I'll tell you about that first meeting with John upon my return."

Molly nodded. "Ah yes, that was the night you came to the hospital with a split lip to tell me you were back. I know you said John had been responsible for it, because you had kept the truth from him, but I didn't know you had made things worse by making fun of his moustache."

Sherlock shrugged. "All water under the bridge."

Molly looked at John. "Not that I advocate violence, and I know you have apologised for your behaviour, but now I understand a little more about your reaction if Sherlock was teasing you. You had enough to deal with already in learning he was alive."

"Still no excuse for my actions. I'm definitely not that man anymore."

"Well, I suppose we should get back to the reading," Molly said, and the three returned to their seats, followed soon after by everyone else, some nursing cups of coffee or tea, others holding biscuits.

The read-through continued. At the end of it, almost everyone congratulated Molly on how well it was written. Molly, humble as ever, gave credit to the Lord for her inspiration. Sherlock was incredibly proud of her. He knew how many hours she had laboured, writing and preparing the script with not only dialogue, but actions as well, and deciding on songs to be done during the scene changes.

The play was to end with the Sandi Patty song, Who will Call Him King of Kings, which Molly had sung as a solo the previous year on Easter Sunday. It would be the perfect way to end the play. Molly had not made any decisions on who was to sing what, but Sherlock planned to insist she sing it herself. She had sung it before, and it felt appropriate for the writer of the play to finish it.

With the read-through complete, and plans for the next one set, people began to disperse. Greg went off to collect Lori, Kayla and the children from the nursery.

Sherlock heard Martha Hudson speaking to Molly as he and John put the chairs away.

"Your play is absolutely lovely, dear. I'm sure it will be a great success."

"Thank you for agreeing to be part of it, Martha. It means a lot to us."

"It means a lot to me too, Molly, especially the way it is to be a fundraiser for cancer research."

Sherlock continued to listen as he and John finished stacking the chairs and made sure empty cups were in the bin and the remaining biscuits put in containers to take home.

He heard Martha's voice take on a note of sorrow as she continued. "You see, my sister called last week and told me she has been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. She hasn't been well lately, but she has always been stubborn about going to the doctor." She sighed. "After tests, the doctor said the cancer has already spread to other parts of her body and that chemotherapy, while it might prolong her life for a few months, would not be able to offer a cure."

Sherlock looked over at Molly, whose expression was one of deep sympathy. "Oh, Martha, I am so sorry to hear that." She laid a gentle hand on the elderly woman's arm. "I will make sure we add her to our prayer list so we can pray that she does not suffer much pain. I don't think you've ever mentioned her by name, and if you have, I'm afraid I've forgotten."

"It's Edith. Thank you for offering to do that. It certainly can't hurt."

"You're most welcome."

Sherlock, his cleaning complete, walked over to join them. "Perhaps your sister could come and see the play in September, if she is up to it?" he suggested.

Martha looked at him, and he saw the tears in her eyes. "That sounds like a lovely idea. Next time I talk to her, I will mention it. Perhaps," she stopped, sniffled a little, "it will give her something to look forward to, to live for a little while longer."

Sherlock and Molly both offered the woman a warm hug before she departed.

Greg returned with the nursery volunteers and children in tow. He was holding Victoria. "Had to clean up a few toys," he explained.

Molly took Victoria from him. "Thanks, Greg. I hope you didn't do all the cleanup yourself. Victoria will put away things if you show her."

He grinned. "Rosie did a good job of cleaning and telling Victoria where to put the blocks she had brought out to play with."

Sherlock looked over at Lori. "How are you feeling? Are you past the morning sickness yet? Molly hasn't been sick in a couple weeks now, and she is back to doing her usual cutting up of cadavers at the hospital." He felt Molly's playful poke.

Lori laughed. "I'm glad I don't have that kind of job. I'm a lot better than I was, just occasional bouts of nausea at this point."

"Didn't you have your twelve week scan done last week?" asked Molly, looking between Greg and Lori. "Sherlock and I were really excited to hear the baby's heartbeat and see an image on the monitor at ours a couple weeks ago."

Greg beamed. "It was amazing. I won't pretend I didn't have tears in my eyes."

Molly glanced at Sherlock, then back at Greg. "I think that is an entirely appropriate reaction." Sherlock was glad she did not mention that he had teared up on each occasion he had heard the heartbeats of their babies, as well as the scans when they had been able to see images of the precious life growing inside Molly. The miracle of life was something so incredible, he knew he would never shrug it off as something ordinary. He was definitely looking forward to the 20 week scan where the baby would look more like a baby, and they would find out if they were having a boy or girl, if the baby accommodated them, position-wise.

Kayla apparently had no qualms in sharing John's own emotions. "John and I both cried when we heard Adam's heartbeat, and at each scan. It's a profound experience." She looked at her husband. "Ready to go? I fed Adam a little while ago, and he is sleeping, but he will probably be ready for another one soon."

John grinned. "Nothing like having a fussy baby in a car when you are driving. You'll find that out for yourself in a few months, Greg."

Greg glanced at Lori. "I can't wait to be a father. Never expected it would happen at this time in my life, but Lori tells me that undoubtedly God had other plans."

The friends dispersed to their own homes after that.

After dinner, with Victoria happily engaged in assembling blocks on top of one another in her playpen, something she had just mastered, Sherlock and Molly settled comfortably onto the sofa.

"Things went well today, didn't they?" Molly remarked.

"Yes, they did. Molly, I've been thinking. You should be the one who sings Who Will call Him King of Kings at the end of the play."

Molly pursed her lips. "I don't know, Sherlock. I will still be in costume."

"And what is more appropriate than for you to sing the song that way? It talks about the women at the tomb. Besides, you sang it for Easter when you were eight months pregnant with Victoria, so you can't use the excuse of your pregnancy to get out of it."

She poked her tongue out at him. "I guess I could do it. I haven't sung it since then, so I'd need to practise it."

He shrugged. "Speaking of which, we need to practice our duet if you want to sing it next month. That is coming up in less than four weeks."

Molly's mouth opened. "Oh, gosh, you're right. I wonder what Victoria will think if we practise it in front of her?"

"Why don't we find out?"

Sherlock went upstairs to retrieve his laptop from the desk in the spare room and brought it downstairs. There was a karaoke audio file on there of the duet.

"Do you recall the words?" he asked Molly, after he pulled up the file.

Molly bit her lip. "I'm not sure. I hope so. Let's just see what happens."

Sherlock nodded and used the cursor to begin the music.

He was pleased to discover his memory was just as good as usual, and he had no trouble recalling the words.

"La ci darem la mano," he sang the first line, noticing immediately that Victoria stopped playing with her blocks to look up at him.

She was utterly fascinated at hearing her parents sing, Sherlock discovered as Molly sang her first lines and they continued.

He scooped Victoria out of the playpen when she reached her arms out, continuing to sing, swaying back and forth with her.

Molly remembered all her words. Sherlock was a little disappointed that he could not do the actions along with the words. Having a child in his arms made that impossible, but they would get an opportunity to do that at some point. They would certainly have to practise the actions as well if they wanted to do a good performance. It was a very sensual duet.

When they had finished the piece, Victoria clapped her hands together.

Sherlock lifted her so he could nuzzle their noses. "You liked that, did you?"

She nodded, then reached a hand out, indicating she wanted to go back to her own activities, and Sherlock returned her to the playpen.

"Why don't you practise your song, now that your voice is all warmed up?" he suggested to Molly.

She grinned at him. "If you agree to tell me the unabridged version of what happened at your first meeting with John when you returned to London. I want to hear more about the moustache."

"If you insist."

Molly smiled and walked over to the bookshelf that held various music CD's as well as several accompaniment tracks.

She selected the disc and handed it to Sherlock, who inserted it into his laptop.

He listened as Molly sang beautifully. She really did have a gift for singing, along with her many other talents. Victoria was standing in her playpen, holding onto the edge of it as her mother sang, just as fascinated by the sound coming out of her mother's mouth.

He had to laugh when Molly finished on the high G at the end and Victoria put her hands to her ears; it was certainly a loud note.

"Beautiful, as always, my love," he said, extracting the disc so she could return it to the shelf.

"Thanks, honey."

Molly returned to him and curled her body next to his. "Now, it's your turn."

He glanced over at Victoria. She had resumed sitting in the playpen and it looked like she planned to make her own music with that darned xylophone again. He was correct in that assumption.

Oh well, if he had to talk with Molly, he could concentrate on that, rather than the discordant sound when Victoria pressed two buttons down at the same time.

"Where should I start?"

"Well, I know that you disrupted John's marriage proposal, but that's about it."

He drew in a long breath. "It's like this. Mycroft told me where John was. I had expected to go see him at Baker Street and was rather surprised to learn he no longer lived there. Mycroft told me where he was going to be."

"The Landmark Hotel, I remember. It still boggles my mind that Mycroft knew Mary and was the one who got her the job at the clinic to begin with."

"What amazes me is that it took me so many years to figure that out myself." He bent and kissed her cheek. "Guess I needed your help with it."

He moved in to kiss her again, but Molly moved slightly away. "No distractions. Tell your story. I want to know about the eye pencil moustache John talked about."

"Well, I got to the hotel and decided the best way to approach him would be if I pretended to be a waiter. I managed to, er, borrow a bow tie, a pair of reading glasses and an eye pencil which I used to quickly draw two fine lines above my upper lip."

Molly giggled, "you were literally doing a pencil moustache. How silly that must have looked."

He gave her an offended look. "No sillier than John's poor excuse for a moustache. The one he had in my mind palace reflections, when I was on the plane, that took me back to Victorian London, was much more impressive."

"Well, go on. You got to his table and pretended to be a waiter."

"Yes, I tried to catch his eye by offering to help him. He was too busy looking at the wine menu and probably thinking of the proposal to bother even looking at me when he asked for my recommendation for a bottle of champagne. Waiters tend to blend into their surroundings, not my best idea."

Molly clasped her fingers in her lap, and Sherlock knew she was enjoying listening to his tale. "What about Mary? Didn't she see you?"

"She was not there, initially. I went off to pretend to get the wine and saw her coming downstairs and joining John. She had apparently been in the ladies' toilets. Anyway, I grabbed a bottle of champagne and came back to the table, which is where I suppose I interrupted the proposal. To say they were both shocked would be an understatement."

He gave a wry smile, remembering those first moments. "As you know, John was not impressed, and he had some angry words."

"And then you made fun of his moustache?"

Sherlock's lips quirked. "I asked if he was really planning to keep that. That's when he grabbed my collar and forced me down to the ground. As you may expect, we were kindly asked to leave the premises."

Molly's fingers circled around his arm. "You were thrown out? Where did you go?"

"Another restaurant nearby. None of us had eaten, so we ate, and I tried to explain about what happened that night on the rooftop. When John found out that quite a lot of people knew I had faked my death, including you and about twenty-five people in my homeless network, not to mention Mycroft, he got mad at me again, and gave me a split lip. That led to us getting tossed out of that restaurant as well."

Molly shook her head. "Then what? Did you go anywhere else?"

"As it happens, we were close to Joe's Fish Shop, so I suggested we go there to finish our talk."

"So when did you incur the bloody nose?"

"When I told him to admit he had missed the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through our veins, the two of us against the world. Apparently that was not what he wanted to hear, so he head butted me. It probably didn't help that I had mentioned the moustache again before that, and that Mary didn't like it either, which she confirmed."

"My poor darling. You really knew how to put your foot in your mouth, didn't you?" She lifted her hands up to put them around his neck and kiss his cheek. "What did Mary have to say?"

"I liked her right from the start. While John walked out to get them a taxi, she told me she'd talk him around. I think she liked me too."

"Just as well she was with John then, or perhaps I would have had competition for your romantic affections."

Sherlock laughed at his wife. "That's an utterly ridiculous statement. It was never like that between Mary and myself, could never have been. She was a bit too world-weary, as I was. Good friend material for me, definitely not what I would have wanted for a lover or wife."

Molly's fingers linked with his. "Very glad I don't need to be posthumously jealous of her. So, after that is when you came to see me at the hospital?"

"Yep. I had forgotten to put on my beanie and sunglasses in the fish shop, so Joe actually recognised me, and I had to make him promise to keep quiet about it until I was ready to return publicly. Of course, it didn't help that John was shouting at me. It was probably one of those customers who alerted the press that I was alive."

Were you disguised when you entered the hospital? I wondered about that, but never thought to ask. You weren't wearing one when I saw you."

"I put on the beanie and glasses, went into the men's toilets to wash the blood off properly from under my nose, and then I went upstairs to the locker room. I wasn't about to greet you in disguise, so I simply put them into my pocket."

"And the rest, as they say, is history."

"Pretty much." He looked over at the playpen, suddenly aware that Victoria had ceased "playing" the xylophone. She had her Pusheen toy in her mouth and was sucking on it, looking a little sleepy.

"Time to make a little snack for Victoria and change her nappy," said Molly.

Sherlock had not noticed the not-so-pleasant aroma filling the room until Molly made that comment. He got up hastily. "I'll get her snack and a cup of milk."

"Don't think I don't know what you are doing, Sherlock Holmes, the master of dirty-nappy-change avoidance. You can change her, and I will get the snacks."

Sherlock sighed. Molly did give him an exceedingly long rope, and she had certainly earned a respite today with all her hard work. He wasn't about to argue with her. The last thing he wanted was a wife who was cross with him before bedtime. That would not do at all.

"You win. I will change her."

He picked up Victoria and accomplished the task, dropping the smelly ball of poo down the toilet as Molly had told him a couple weeks earlier. Come to think of it, this was only the fourth time he had changed a dirty nappy since then, only the second since they had moved to this house.

He deposited Victoria into her high chair and helped himself to a couple of the biscuits, then put the kettle on for Molly and himself. "Did you want spearmint or regular tea, love?" he asked.

She was standing in front of the high chair, hands on her abdomen, a gentle smile on her face. She looked up at him. "I think spearmint tea would be good, I've acquired quite a taste for it. I must suggest that to Lori, just as Kayla did to me."

He put the tea bags in the cups and walked to stand behind Molly, putting his own arms around her so his hands rested over hers and the little swell of her belly.

She tilted her head upwards to look at him. "Thanks for changing her nappy, honey."

He grinned back at her. "I may avoid dirty nappy duty as much as possible, but I never refuse a direct command from my wife."

Her lips quirked in amusement. "I'll have to remember that. I might just have to order you to change her dirty nappies more often."

He gave a mock groan. "Please don't." He slid his hands up to her shoulders and massaged them gently. "If you don't take advantage of my weakness in doing as you command in that regard, you may command me in other ways."

She gave a little sigh of pleasure. "A good massage is definitely worthy compensation for continuing to change most of the dirty nappies."

"I can think of a few other things I'd be willing to do at your request, Mrs. Holmes, like-" he murmured a few of those things in her ear and she giggled.

"Bold words, Sherlock. Hope you will put your money where your mouth is."

He moved a hand from her shoulder to push away her hair and nuzzled her neck. "I think you would definitely prefer that I put my mouth in those places rather than money." He kissed her neck, and her breath caught, as it often did.

"You should not say such naughty things in front of our daughter."

"I didn't, I whispered them in your ear, not that she would have any clue what I was saying." Victoria wasn't paying any attention to them anyway, she was pushing her thumb against a fruit shape, trying to squish it, at least that was how it appeared.

"Even so," Molly's tone was a little breathless, "you had better restrain yourself for now until we get Victoria to bed."

Reluctantly, he drew back and released her. She was right, he was already feeling somewhat uncomfortable in a certain area of his body that had a mind of its own.

He found himself counting down the hours until Victoria went to sleep. Eating a snack had revived her, and she was no longer sleepy.

When Victoria dirtied her nappy again just before bath time, Molly said, "I'll pop her straight into the bath and get her ready for bed. You don't need to change her." She gave him a decidedly seductive look through her lashes, and he knew she too was anticipating their time together after their daughter was in bed.

Later, once Victoria was safely in her cot, Sherlock demonstrated his willingness to accommodate Molly's requests. It had been another busy, productive day, and he was happy to just enjoy this quiet time with her. Well, perhaps not so quiet at times.

"Were your requests fulfilled to your satisfaction, my love?" he asked some time later, pressing a last lingering kiss to Molly's lips.

Their legs were entwined and his hand caressed the curve of her hip as they faced each other. "Oh, I have no complaints."

"Was I mind-blowing?" he persisted.

She let out a deep, contented sigh. "You always are, Sherlock."

He fell asleep with their legs still entwined, a contented smile upon his lips.

Author's note: A little forward motion for the play and practice for the duet. Which do you anticipate more?

How did you like Sherlock's recounting of his first meeting with John after he returned to London? I like writing scenes like this, where the reader gets to think about some of the show canon. Until I wrote that account, I had not paid attention to the fact that there were three locations used for Sherlock's reveal and conversation with John and Mary. Did you spot that? I also enjoyed including the fish shop Sherlock talked to Molly about during their day together, as the third place.

There's a mention of Mary's past in this chapter. If you'd like to explore that, check out The Mycroft and Mary Connection Exposed.

Don't forget to spend a few moments to tell me what you thought of this chapter and what you enjoyed (hopefully) about it!