It had been three days since Sherlock had returned home after almost being murdered by Culverton Smith.
Those days had been rough, filled with violent withdrawal as he detoxed from this latest round of using heroin with the occasional dose of cocaine when he wished to heighten his thought processes. He had allowed the drugs to take hold of him in a way that hadn't happened since his uni days.
Today, John had said he needed to leave to pick up Rosie, and that he trusted Sherlock to not relapse in the twenty minutes or so before Molly was due to arrive for her "babysitting" shift. Sherlock no longer needed an overnight minder either.
Sherlock was glad for a few minutes of solitude, although he had to admit he was looking forward to Molly's arrival. Molly had joined him in a few games of chess to distract him from the withdrawal symptoms of nausea and feeling chilled, beating him on more than one occasion. Three, in actual fact. She was the kind of friend any man would want. She didn't interrupt him when he was doing his own thing, but she was always content to be interrupted by him when he needed something. He did find it rather amusing to discover she was a bit of a romantic who enjoyed reading historical romance novels, as he had noted when she had stayed overnight his first night home, and she had been watching over him.
Now that the most severe withdrawal period had passed, Sherlock felt bored and restless at his prolonged inactivity. He had been told by the doctor, who had reluctantly allowed him to leave the hospital, that he was to refrain from too much physical activity until his bruised ribs had a chance to heal properly. That meant no detective work that involved potential pursuit. The bruised ribs were a small price to pay for being on good terms once again with John. He knew he had deserved his punishment at John's hands.
Feeling at loose ends, Sherlock decided to re-read one of the books from the collection of different mysteries and true crime books in his bookcase.
Walking over to extract one of his favourites, either The Diary of Jack the Ripper, or Signature Killers, Sherlock's fingers reached, then paused.
There was another, long-ignored book on the shelf. It was the Holy Bible. He furrowed his brow slightly, recalling the case of an international smuggling ring called The Black Lotus, when he had briefly considered the Bible might hold the key to the Chinese symbols he was trying to decipher. That had been the last time he had opened that particular volume.
For years, much to his parents' disappointment, having been the ones to furnish him with that Bible, he had been a self-proclaimed atheist. Recent events however, ones where he had realised he didn't want to die, feared the oblivion of nothingness that would follow, gave him pause for thought. Didn't the Bible talk about life continuing beyond this one? He vaguely recalled attending church as a young child with his parents. Lots of praying and singing and listening to someone droning on and on at the front of the church.
On impulse, he withdrew the Bible from the shelf. He fingered the leather cover, recalling again the only time, beyond receiving it initially, he had ever opened it, to the first part of the Bible; Genesis, wasn't it? The Bible had not been the book he was looking for to find the answers to the cipher in that case. He still remembered the note he had received with the Bible. It was the last birthday gift he had received from his parents, his 21st birthday, in fact. After that, he had refused to accept gifts or to acknowledge his birthday.
He looked again at the note inside the front cover.
Sherlock, your father and I know you have distanced yourself from God and refuse to acknowledge Him. One day, we hope you will change your mind and open your heart to read His Word. We are praying for you.
With love, on your 21st birthday,
Mummy and Daddy.
Sherlock had been angry at the time that his parents would attempt to foist their "religion" upon him, yet he had not had the heart to throw away the Bible. Something inside him felt it would be a desecration to do so.
Perhaps, in light of his recent near-death experience, it was time to seek some answers. But where to begin? He was a little intimidated by the size of the volume.
He was still frowning, deep in thought, when the sound of Molly's footsteps ascending the stairs alerted him that she was on her way up. In fact, he hadn't even noticed until she was almost at the top of the stairs.
He moved to put the Bible away, even as Molly knocked on the door John had left ajar and entered. He couldn't help feeling self-conscious. What would she think about him holding a Bible? Quickly, he dropped it on the table and returned to sit in his chair, casually crossing his legs.
As usual, she seemed to fill the room with sunshine when she smiled at him. Her hair was down, rather than the way she wore it for work, and he had to admit, she looked decidedly attractive. "How are you feeling today, Sherlock?"
He shrugged. "Think I'm over the withdrawal, for the most part."
Her eyes drifted toward the book he had just placed on the table, and her brows lifted in surprise. "Are you reading the Bible? I thought you were an atheist. At least, that's what you said at John and Mary's wedding."
He flushed and cleared his throat. "I just happened upon it in my bookcase; forgot I had it, actually. My parents gave it to me many years ago."
She paused a few steps from his chair, right next to the table and placed her hand upon the volume. Her touch was almost reverent. "Are you planning to read it?"
He felt embarrassed. Would she think him, a man of science, silly to be even entertaining the thought of doing so?
"I...might."
His jaw dropped open at what she said next. "If you need any guidance, I'd be happy to give it. I'm pretty familiar with the Bible, myself."
"You are?"
There was a note of laughter in her voice as she said, "Yes. How is it you've known me for seven years, Sherlock, and you had no idea that I'm a Christian?" Her smile faded suddenly. "Well, perhaps that means I'm not really showing it very well, am I?"
He thought about that for a moment. If Christians were supposed to be selfless and giving, he could certainly see those qualities in Molly. So he asked her a question. "Well, what qualities should a Christian exhibit?" He was genuinely curious.
Molly bit her lip. "A Christian is someone who tries to live a life that shows their faith. They try to exhibit something called the fruits of the spirit, which are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness and faithfulness. And then there is also gentleness and self-control."
He stared at her. Every one of those words fit Molly to a T. There had always been something indefinably joyful about Molly in the way she approached her work. She loved what she did, gruesome as that might appear to some. He knew she treated every post-mortem as if she were dealing with a live patient. He had seen the butchery of some pathologists, but Molly could have been a surgeon in the careful way she sutured, following an autopsy. She certainly knew how to be patient, especially with him, and she was not one for arguments. There was no doubt that she was kind and good as well. As for faithfulness, the only context he had for that word was in what it meant for couples to be monogamous. He assumed she had been faithful to her former fiancé, even if the engagement had ended. And she was gentle as well. He'd seen evidence of that in the way she behaved with their goddaughter. He supposed he had seen her lose her control on a couple of occasions, but they had been justified, both reactions to him using drugs. Yes, he supposed Molly was the perfect example of what she told him a Christian ought to be.
"Those terms suit you," he told her honestly, and her smile reached her eyes.
"Thank you, Sherlock. I think that is the nicest compliment you have ever paid me."
His lips quirked. "Nicer than when I said your hair looked better parted on the side?"
Her smile broadened. "I know very well that was a manipulation, Sherlock, and it was not sincere."
"I may have been using a little manipulation at the time, but as it happens, it was the truth."
He could have sworn a touch of colour appeared in her cheeks at that. "So, uh, how did you want to spend this evening? Did you want to play chess, or did you want to take a look at the Bible or do something else?"
He pursed his lips, thinking. "Maybe you could give me some guidance in what to read in the Bible, if you're familiar with it. The length of it is a little intimidating." He offered her a rather self-deprecating smile. "Anyway, seeing as I am Rosie's godfather, I suppose I should understand a little more about what exactly that means." He felt a little better now, knowing that Molly approved of him reading the Bible, was even actively encouraging it. For some reason, Molly's opinion always mattered to him.
"I'd love to help you, Sherlock." She picked up the Bible from the table. "Um, it would probably be easier if we were sitting together, so I can show you what to look at."
That made sense. "Yes. Let me just clear some room at the table."
He rose from his chair and walked over to the table, pushing aside some of the papers that were strewn across it as well as a couple dirty coffee mugs. He felt slightly embarrassed, knowing how tidy Molly was from those occasions he had been at her flat. She probably thought he was a total slob. But if she did, she never said anything about it.
He sat beside her at the table, the Bible placed between them, and Molly Hooper proceeded to blow his mind with how much she knew on a subject he had never bothered to learn about.
She explained about the Old Testament and the New Testament. The Old Testament began with God's creation of the world and then continued to give a history of men who had lived thousands of years earlier, who had eventually become the tribe of Israel and God's chosen people, the Jews. Molly told him the Old Testament pointed forwards, towards a Saviour who would redeem the world from the sin that had come into it because of Adam and Eve.
Sherlock vaguely recalled hearing about Adam and Eve as a child.
Molly talked about different important people from the Old Testament, who had lived lives pleasing to God.
"These were not perfect men, either," she said to Sherlock. "If the Bible was a fairytale, it wouldn't highlight the failings of these men. They lived lives of faith, but they made mistakes, just like we all do. I think there's a perception out there that Christians think they are better than everyone else, and that's simply not true. Christians make mistakes like everyone else. But the difference is in our accountability. While non-believers may feel an accountability to the law, as Christians, we are not only accountable to the governing laws of our country, but to God's laws and desire for us. That is what drives our moral compass, leading us to try to live lives that show our faith."
Sherlock couldn't help admiring the passion in Molly's voice as she spoke. "So, what are these moral laws you live by?"
Molly twirled a strand of hair around her finger absently as she answered. "Well, the Old Testament gave us the ten commandments. Have you heard of them?"
A crease formed between Sherlock's brows. "Isn't that all those 'Thou shalt not' do this and that? Like don't kill, that type of thing?"
"Yeah. Let me find them for you. They were given to Moses by God, and it is documented in the book of Exodus." She found it quickly in the Bible and Sherlock read Exodus 20.
1 And God spake all these words, saying,
2 I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.
3 Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
4 Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.
5 Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me;
6 And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments.
7 Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.
8 Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.
9 Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work:
10 But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates:
11 For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it.
12 Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
13 Thou shalt not kill.
14 Thou shalt not commit adultery.
15 Thou shalt not steal.
16 Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.
17 Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's.
Sherlock blew out a long breath. "Those are some pretty hefty rules, but they are certainly ones that seem logical." His lips twisted. "I certainly can't say I've kept all those; guess there's no hope for me."
Molly looked at him, and he felt her fingers, warm and comforting, take his hand. It was surprisingly welcome. "Sherlock, nobody can keep all those commandments. We're not perfect, and we make mistakes all the time. But they are guidelines from a God who loves us and wants us to lead lives of meaning and purpose. Some people think of the word Bible as an acronym that means 'Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth.' I think that's a good way of looking at it." Her eyes were serious as she continued. "You've been close to death several times. In fact, your heart did stop beating on the operating table. One of my surgeon friends, Chris, was the one who operated on you. He told me he was about to call the time of death when your heart started beating again on its own, which is very unusual. Have you ever stopped to wonder if there's a reason why you are still here?"
Sherlock suddenly felt a weight pressing down on him. Why had he opened Pandora's box? It was much easier to go along in life, living one day at a time, not thinking of the future that loomed, of his own mortality. Now, he was suddenly being confronted with a wave of emotion like that which he had sustained when Culverton Smith had been about to suffocate him, and he realised it was fear - fear of the unknown. A sense of urgency hit him. He needed to know everything before it was too late. Seeking answers, he asked, "Why do you think I'm still here, Molly?"
"Because God thinks you are worth saving, that you have something of value to offer the world. And I-" suddenly he saw colour rising in her cheeks, "I've been praying for you, Sherlock. You have such a big heart, even though you don't wear it on your sleeve."
"I'm sure that most people would disagree with you, Molly." His tone was wry.
Her lips tightened. "They don't know you like I do. I helped you plan that jump off the roof, remember? I knew the risks you were taking. Things could have gone wrong, but by the grace of God, they didn't. You also nearly killed yourself with drugs to get John to forgive you for Mary's death." Her tone hardened. "And Mary's death was not your fault either, despite John's behaviour about it."
Sherlock pulled his hand away from hers and pushed it through his hair. "On that count you are wrong. I was the cause of Mary's death."
"No." Molly's voice was firm. "Mary chose to jump in front of that bullet. You cannot hold yourself accountable for someone else's actions. That would be like holding a train driver responsible for a person jumping onto the track in front of an oncoming train."
Sherlock furrowed his brow. Was she right? He hadn't even considered that. John had been so angry with him, and he'd felt such overwhelming guilt, it had dominated his actions over the next month. He had convinced himself that he didn't care if he lived or died.
To his utter surprise, he saw tears begin to trickle down Molly's face just before she turned her head away from him. Was she really crying for him?. Nobody had ever cried for him, except perhaps his mother.
"Molly?" His voice was hesitant. "Why are you crying? Why does this mean so much to you?"
She wouldn't look at him, and her voice was almost a whisper. "Please don't ask me that. It's too embarrassing."
He felt confused. "Embarrassing? We're friends, Molly. You don't need to be embarrassed to speak plainly in front of me."
"If I tell you, it's going to change everything between us. You'll know."
"What will I know?"
She turned back to him, rubbing at her eyes. "Right now, it isn't important, Sherlock. What is important is that you want to learn more about the Bible and why you are here, don't you?"
He could hear by the tone in her voice that she had made up her mind that she was not going to disclose what had been so close to the surface. "All right. If I learn everything about what you believe, research what the Bible and Christianity are about, will you tell me at the end of that time why it's so important to you that I understand my purpose in life?"
She nodded her head slowly. "Yes."
This time his hand reached out to take hers. "Then we have a deal."
He had a feeling that this would provide a good distraction for him while he waited for his ribs to heal. Research was something he definitely enjoyed, and Molly was willing to help him, which made it even better. They would have to spend a good deal of time together, which he didn't mind. Molly was the one person he actually looked forward to spending time with, aside from John, when he wasn't being a prat about something.
"Well then," he indicated the Bible with a gesture of his head, "Shall we continue?"
"Yes, Sherlock." She smiled at him.
He liked the way his name sounded on her lips. And suddenly he realised something new. He liked her lips and the way she smiled as well.
He found himself watching those lips as she talked about how the Old Testament changed to the New Testament, which were stories that talked about Jesus Christ and his life on earth, followed by other books, as they were called, most of which were letters written to various churches, which talked about how to behave as followers of Jesus.
Sherlock rested his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand, trying to absorb what she was saying.
"If you read through the Gospel of Luke, you will read the Christmas story and how Jesus was born to the virgin Mary. I suppose you do know the Christmas story at least, don't you?"
"It is rather difficult to forget, when the focus of the story seems to always be that the woman in question was a virgin, thus the idea of her conceiving a child should have been impossible. After all they didn't have in-vitro fertilisation back then." He laughed a little at his own joke, but Molly merely gave him a solemn look.
"You might find it amusing, Sherlock, but yes, that is a crucial part of the narrative. Without the virgin birth, the concept of Jesus being conceived by the Holy Spirit, and thus God as well as human, would be impossible."
"The idea of a man being both human and God is just as implausible," he pointed out. He was curious about how Molly would explain it.
"Why? If a child is born of parents from two countries, like England and America, for example, wouldn't that child be both English and American at the same time? That's how I look at it for Jesus being both a man and God as well."
"I think you may be over-simplifying it a bit," he said dryly. "Matters of ethnicity are vastly different than claiming someone is both a man and God at the same time."
Molly frowned. "Fine. In that case, you do the research on Jesus yourself. Look up the evidence that proves he truly lived, and read the Bible account of the virgin birth. While you're at it, take a look at the end of the story, where he died for the sins of humanity and then rose again on the third day. There's plenty of evidence to support that as well." Her voice was challenging, and he had to admit he liked the fiery, passionate look in her eyes.
He lifted his head from his hand. "Oh, I will do it, Molly. I like my research." His own tone was firm. By God, he would research the hell out of it.
A smile curved her lips. "In that case, I think I'll let you do that before we discuss the Bible any further. Once you've looked at things for yourself, feel free to come to me with your questions." She tossed her head, and hair flew behind her ear, exposing a very nicely shaped ear he'd never really looked at closely. For some odd reason he felt he'd like to trace his thumb along that ear, tracing the curve of it down to the delicate lobe. Perhaps he'd dip his finger into the hollow beneath her earlobe...
What the hell was going on with him? Was this still a part of the withdrawal? Why was he being distracted by Molly Hooper, of all people? They were friends, that was all. You don't do sentiment, he reminded himself. Mycroft had drilled into him that caring was not an advantage.
He assumed he must have had a rather glazed look on his face, because Molly asked, "Sherlock? Are you okay? You look a bit - I don't know - distracted."
He shook his head slightly to rid himself of the idea of touching Molly's ear, the hollow beneath it, the line of her swan-like neck which was currently exposed as well with her hair out of the way. He swallowed. "I'm fine. Why don't we, er, play some chess now? I believe I am ahead five games to three."
She rolled her eyes. "You really feel the need to keep score? Talk about being competitive."
He snorted and folded his arms. "I seem to recall you being rather excited on the occasions you have been the victor."
She gave him a cheeky smile. "I'm going to win the next one too, so prepare to be bested."
"Confident, aren't you?" he said with a grin.
He was amused with her "Yep," and the way she popped her p just like he did.
He rose from his chair and extended his hand to her.
She put her hand in his, and a curious sensation went through him. Perhaps it was the residue of withdrawal.
Oh well, Molly was definitely an excellent distraction from the urge to return to using, he thought, as he released her hand to set up the chessboard for the game he intended to win to show his dominance.
Author's note: I have to give credit to Penelope Chestnut for making me think about writing this story and for providing me with the cover image.
I just take so much pleasure in finding ways to bring Sherlock to faith!
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and are looking forward to what is ahead.
How did you find Molly's explanations about the Bible so far?
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