Author's Note: I know, it has been a while. Maybe nobody will even read this because I have been absent for 3 months, dealing with having Covid and other family health issues, among other things. And with lack of interest, I don't really know when I will publish again. But I wanted to publish this as a special gift to those who do enjoy my work. Consider it my Valentine's Day gift for you. You can give back by leaving your feedback on this scripture-heavy chapter. Even though my priorities have changed, I have not left this site, and I will still respond to anyone who leaves a review or private message.
Who knows - if enough people want to know what happens next, maybe it will inspire me to publish again sooner rather than later. It is, after all, completely written and just requires time for me to spend in editing and proof-reading. But no promises.
Molly tried to pretend interest in reading her romance novel, but she couldn't help glancing surreptitiously at Sherlock. He had only been reading for a minute or so when he looked at her. "I can feel you watching me, Molly. The disciples actually saw Jesus go up to heaven?"
"That's what the Bible tells us, and I believe it. What would be the purpose of perpetrating a lie that Christians would later be willing to die for? And why would that lie be perpetuated for thousands of years afterwards?"
He gave her a look of approval. "Nice word choices, perpetrate and perpetuate. But I agree, that does seem illogical." He looked back down at the page, then up again. "Would you read to me again? I have the feeling you are more interested in what I am doing than," he indicated her novel, which she had put on her lap, "your romance novel."
Molly grinned sheepishly. "I'll admit, I like watching you show an interest in the Bible. But I'll have to stop at some point so I can make dinner."
"Or I could make reservations for us at my favourite Italian restaurant, Angelo's. I think you deserve a break from cooking."
Molly sucked on her lower lip. "That sounds a lot like a date, Sherlock, and someone already took a picture of us today. What if someone else decides to be nosy?"
"If I am not acting in a romantic manner at the restaurant, as far as I am concerned, it is just a nice dinner with a friend." His lips quirked. "Not that I would object to behaving as if we were on a date, if you would permit me to court you."
She tapped him lightly on the arm. "My conditions are not going to change, Sherlock, but be it on your own head if someone gets the wrong idea."
He grinned. "So, it's a yes to our not-a-date?"
Molly nodded. "Go ahead. I'm not going to pass up the chance for a free meal." She smirked.
He returned the smirk. "Perhaps, as it is not a date, we should go Dutch for appearance' sake."
Molly folded her arms. "I'm surprised you are even familiar with the expression. You invited me, but that's fine. I can pay for myself."
His smirk disappeared. "I was just teasing, Molly. I insist on paying, and if people get the wrong idea, let them."
So saying, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number. Apparently, he ate there a lot, Molly mused to herself. She wondered if he ate alone or had been there with John. It must be lonely if he frequented a restaurant by himself. Perhaps he had invited the ex-girlfriend, Janine, there for a date. She didn't like that idea, she had to admit to herself, as a brief flare of jealousy sparked within her.
After Sherlock made reservations for seven and hung up the phone, she asked curiously, "So, why is Angelo's your favourite restaurant? Do you go there often?"
He returned his phone to his pocket. "Actually, I don't really go there much at all, but I do get the occasional free meal. I got Angelo off a murder charge a few years ago, by proving he was in a different location doing a robbery, so he could not have been at the murder scene. He spent a little time in jail, then made a clean start, rather than being stuck in prison for a murder he did not commit."
Molly's eyes widened. "You got him off a murder charge? And to think I asked you about the fish shop guy, just jokingly. I can't believe it."
His lips curved upwards. "Ironic, isn't it? Well," he indicated the Bible still on his lap, "did you want to get to reading?"
She plucked the Bible from his lap. "Okay."
Molly knew Sherlock had just read the first section, where Jesus had ascended into heaven, so she continued with the choosing of a disciple to replace Judas. Then she read the story of Pentecost.
As she reached the conclusion of that passage, Sherlock, who had been looking more and more astonished, asked, "These men were suddenly able to speak in other languages without learning them? But that's impossible! Even Mycroft needs a couple hours to study a new language." His tone was incredulous.
She set the Bible down and looked at him. "God can do mighty things. Nothing is impossible for Him. If you read the Old Testament, you'll see that in the beginning, everyone spoke the same language. Then, when people wanted to build a tower high enough to reach heaven at Babel, God caused them to speak different languages so they could no longer understand each other."
Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. "This Bible is obviously the most creative piece of fiction ever created, or it is an incredible testament to the power of God."
Molly smiled. "I believe the latter, as you already know. But that is because when I read, I read with the eyes of the Holy Spirit, rather than my human eyes."
Sherlock leaned back on the sofa, still looking discombobulated. "So, according to what you read, the disciples received the Holy Spirit at this Pentecost thing. I assume then, that the Holy spirit is some unseen, forceful power. That is what gave them the ability to speak in other languages."
Molly nodded. "That's right. In the Old Testament, there were many times when people, whom God used to show His glory, felt the Holy Spirit come upon them, but it was external and temporary. As Christians, we believe that at the moment you accept the truth of the Bible and everything in it, you receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. From that time, you are indwelt by the Holy Spirit."
He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Sure sounds like being possessed."
She folded her arms, offended. "Not funny, Sherlock. The Holy Spirit helps to guide our actions. It doesn't make the decisions for us. A person who is possessed isn't in control of their actions."
He raised his hands placatingly. "I was being facetious, Molly, playing devil's advocate, as it were. I find this truly fascinating."
Molly leaned forward slightly, eager to share. "If you would find it easier to understand, I often think that the Holy Spirit acts as our conscience when we are faced with choices. If we make the right choice, we can feel a peace about it. When we make the wrong choice, we feel the shame and guilt at having done so."
Ho nodded to show his understanding. "That makes sense. I am truly impressed at your knowledge on the subject."
The smile that followed his words was an admiring one, and she blushed self-consciously. "I was raised in the church, Sherlock. I've known about Jesus all of my life, and I accepted his gift of salvation when I was about eight years old. I've had plenty of time to study the Bible through the years and to understand it more and more."
Unexpectedly, he raised a hand to touch her face gently. "I can see that, love. You're special. You've always been special." He leaned towards her, and she thought he was going to kiss her, but he pulled back, albeit reluctantly. "You should keep reading."
She nodded and picked up the Bible once again. How she enjoyed being his love. Please God, let him understand, she prayed before resuming.
He listened with occasional interjections, asking for clarification on things or making comments, and Molly was thrilled that he was paying attention so closely.
After she read about Stephen being stoned, she paused to say, "Stephen was the first Christian martyr. Most of the disciples ended up being killed for their faith, actually."
"That Saul fellow who approved of Stephen's stoning sounds like bad news."
Molly's lips twitched. Sherlock was going to be very surprised when he heard more about Saul. Not wanting to reveal what was coming, she merely said, "He does, doesn't he?"
She was quite satisfied when she read about Saul's conversion, and Sherlock gave her a look of astonishment. "That evil man was converted after persecuting Christians?"
Molly smiled. "He certainly was, and you're going to be hearing a lot more about him."
Sherlock raised his brows but didn't comment further.
Molly read of more miracles performed by the disciples, including raising people from the dead, and finally read where it said Saul was also called Paul.
"Hang on a minute," said Sherlock, interrupting her. "Are you saying that Saul is Paul, the one St. Paul's Cathedral is named for?"
Molly grinned. "Yep. Saul, who became Paul, is the author of many of the New Testament books, which were mostly letters written to other Christian churches. He is usually considered the most well-known apostle, because he was a highly educated man and a Roman citizen as well."
"Fascinating," murmured Sherlock. "I want to hear more, but I think-" he consulted his watch, "yes, it is time we leave for dinner."
Molly hadn't even been considering the time, but she felt pleased with the progress they had made. She set her Bible, still open, on the coffee table once again and stood even as Sherlock did so.
Thirty minutes later, they alighted from a taxi in front of the restaurant.
Sherlock held the door open for Molly, then entered himself. "Table for two, under Holmes," he told the man near the door.
The young man, obviously recognising Sherlock, looked impressed, but merely said, "This way, sir."
As they sat, Molly observed several glances their way. Perhaps this had not been a good idea. She bit her lip.
"What's wrong?" asked Sherlock, seemingly oblivious to the stares, which came as no surprise to Molly.
"People are looking at us," she said in a low voice.
"If the other diners have nothing better to do than stare at the people around them, their lives must be truly boring," said Sherlock, unfazed.
Fine, if he wasn't worried, she wouldn't be either, Molly decided.
They ordered their meals and talked while they waited. Sherlock asked some more questions about what he had been listening to her read, and she tried to expoain as clearly as she could. He wasn't asking questions in a sceptical way, but a curious one.
Despite the casual tone of their voices, however, Molly felt they were communicating in a different way with their eyes. They'd always communicated well that way. Usually she was the one giving him "the look" like that day they'd spent together, when he had been his typical rude self in front of that train guy in scoffing at the idea of him having a girlfriend. But there were also times when he'd done the same to her, like that parting glance when he'd left her at the ambulance and headed off into danger with that serial killer, Smith. That look had been an "I'm sorry, Molly. It's going to be okay, I promise." They were comfortable together, best friends, really. She hoped that the dynamics of a romantic relationship, if it was in their future, wouldn't change that. Well, there was no point in worrying about that now. Her focus had to be on helping Sherlock, and praying that he would understand his life had a greater purpose than he could ever have imagined.
They were halfway through their dinner when a bearded man approached and placed a familiar hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Sherlock! I haven't seen you around in ages. Nice job on exposing the serial killer, by the way." He looked curiously over at Molly. "Haven't seen you here with a date since that John Watson partner of yours."
Molly was pleased that apparently Sherlock had not gone there with Janine, after all. But he'd had a date with John? That seemed rather bizarre and not at all like Sherlock
She saw Sherlock cringe slightly. "That was not a date, nor is this," he explained with a bland smile, and Molly drew an inward sigh of relief that her instincts about Sherlock had not been wrong. "Molly is my friend, and I thought we'd grab a bite to eat."
The man didn't seem convinced, but he nodded politely at Molly. "I'm Angelo. Tell you what, your meal is on the house this evening."
She smiled at him. "Thank you, that's really kind of you."
"I wouldn't be here without Sherlock." He waved at them both and departed. Molly thought it very interesting that he called Sherlock by his first name, rather than "Mr. Holmes." That spoke of a longstanding acquaintance between the two.
They returned to eating their meal. "Would you like dessert?" asked Sherlock a few minutes later.
"Not for me. I'm full," she said. She probably would have gone for dessert, actually, but felt that it would be taking advantage of Angelo's generosity.
"Good. I've had enough too. Guess we can just leave, seeing as we don't have to pay for our dinner," said Sherlock. "Looks like I owe you another dinner where I actually foot the bill." He stood and helped Molly on with her jacket. He hadn't bothered with his Belstaff, and she supposed that was because it wasn't particularly cold and he had his suit jacket on, anyway.
Molly noticed a few glances still directed their way, but Sherlock was careful not to offer her his arm or do anything else that might give people the impression they were on a date. She was relieved, for his sake, although she was still a little worried about that brief kiss in the park. If it turned up in the papers, there were going to be some rather awkward questions. Molly wished it could be otherwise. She would love for the world to know she and Sherlock were a couple, but she couldn't back down. She just had to keep trusting God that Sherlock would come to know and believe what she believed.
Molly was lost in thought as they took a taxi back to her place, and Sherlock too seemed disinclined to begin a conversation.
When they were back inside, Molly said, "Thanks for the dinner."
The corners of his mouth turned up. "Like I said, we will have to repeat the exercise so I can actually pay next time."
"You don't need to do that. It's the thought that counts." She hung up her jacket. "What would you like to do for the rest of the evening?"
He moved towards the sofa even as he turned his head towards her. "I feel this strange urgency to keep reading your Bible. It's like I just have to find out what comes next."
Her heart soared with his words. "Maybe that is because the Holy Spirit is working on your heart, Sherlock." She hoped he wouldn't scoff at the idea.
Fortunately, his look was thoughtful. "Perhaps."
Without asking, she made them cups of tea as usual and set one before him as he read.
Molly picked up her own book and tried to concentrate on it, but she couldn't stop wondering what Sherlock was thinking as he read.
It wasn't long before he commented, "It is interesting to read how people in those days really did worship the Greek gods of mythology, and how they thought Paul and Barnabas were Hermes and Zeus. And yet those Greek gods have faded into the myths they are considered these days, while Christianity continues to be something that is preached all over the world, two thousand years later."
"That is because you can't extinguish the truth," Molly said earnestly.
He didn't respond but returned to reading, sipping his tea occasionally.
When the tea was finished, Molly took their cups to the sink and washed the dishes. Then she headed off to take a shower.
She returned just as Sherlock was setting the Bible down. "I had no idea the Bible was a chronological history book. It is fascinating to read of the first converts to Christianity."
"So you accept this is not just made up?" she asked curiously, sitting next to him.
"Oh, there is no doubt these men believe passionately in what they were doing in trying to preach about Jesus being the Saviour of the world. The only thing I would still like to research for myself is if there is evidence to support Jesus's death and resurrection, to assure myself it was not some big cover up to preserve their belief in him." His brow furrowed. "Although that does seem rather unlikely. I shall do that research tomorrow."
Molly folded her hands into her lap. "Are you prepared to believe completely if you find enough evidence to show everything in the Bible is accurate?"
His look was serious. "Remember when we worked on the details to fake my death? I felt nervousness, apprehension, but this fatalistic sense of destiny. That's how I feel right now, as if I am on the cusp of a great revelation, yet a little afraid to step into the unknown."
She reached out with her hand to squeeze his. "I believe these feelings are the Holy Spirit working on you, leading you to the truth. There is a verse in the Bible that says, 'And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.'* That is my prayer for you."
He turned his hand to grasp hers securely, then lifted it to his lips. "For both our sakes, I hope so. Molly, I want to believe, truly I do, but if I accept everything I am reading, it will be life-changing. It will alter me and my reason and purpose in life." He lowered her hand and his eyes were troubled, his next words honest. "I'm scared, Molly."
She raised her free hand to his cheek tenderly. "There's another verse in the Bible that says God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.* If your heart is changed, you'll feel the same peace I have in being absolutely certain that everything in my life is in God's hands. You don't have to be alone or feel everything rests on your shoulders." Her lips quirked. "And I'll be here too to help you."
"I know you will, and that makes things a little easier." He smiled, then got to his feet. "I suppose I should take my shower now and get ready for bed."
"I think I'm going to just watch a bit of telly while you do that," Molly responded. She didn't really want to go to bed while Sherlock was still moving around.
"Alright then, I'll see you in a bit."
Molly turned on the television and looked at it without really paying attention. She was acutely conscious of Sherlock moving about, getting his things for the bathroom, the shower running and turning off after a few minutes.
When he emerged to stand looking down at her, hair damp, clean shaven and smelling of the lovely citrussy scent she always associated with him, he asked, gesturing at the television, "Anything good?"
"Not really," she answered, turning it off as she stood. Of course, it could have been the most fascinating show and she wouldn't have noticed. "Guess I'll go to bed now."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you always sleep with your hair pinned up?"
Molly suddenly realised she had twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with a few bobby pins because she didn't need to wash it. "Oh, I forgot to take the pins out." She raised her hands to do so.
She was surprised when Sherlock said, "Allow me."
With a shrug, she dropped her hands and felt him gently dislodge the bobby pins, setting them one by one onto the coffee table.
Her breath caught as he threaded his fingers through her hair so it loosened from the twist. Her mind registered that this was definitely not the kind of thing one would expect a mere friend to do.
His fingers and thumb grazed her neck lightly and his voice was husky as he said, "I enjoy seeing your hair down, but I must admit, you do have a very lovely," he traced his thumb down along it, "neck."
She swallowed convulsively. The touch of those long, sensitive fingers on her skin, the richness of his voice, his scent and the look in his eyes was affecting her. Her heartbeat accelerated and her voice stuck in her throat.
His next words made her heart surge with hope. "Molly, I have a feeling things are going to work out for us. I'm not quite there yet, but something inside me tells me we're going to be okay."
Of their own accord, her hands reached up to clutch at his dressing gown. "I hope so."
She didn't resist when he lowered his head to claim her lips with his own. That wonderful warmth stole through her again at his gentle pressure. His thumbs moved slowly until he was cupping her head with his hands. He didn't prolong the kiss, and she was grateful for it, knowing he was still being respectful of her boundaries rather than trying to overcome them.
He released her slowly, and she opened her eyes, seeing his own chest rising and falling quickly, as hers was. "Goodnight, Molly."
"Goodnight, Sherlock."
She watched him head to her bedroom, enter, and close the door behind him. Then she let out her breath slowly. How she adored that man. She couldn't help it. He was finally allowing himself to show his true feelings, to be vulnerable in front of her.
Absently, she picked up the discarded bobby pins and took them into the bathroom, then went to the spare bedroom.
She burrowed under the covers and prayed again for Sherlock, as she always did. By his own admission, he was on the cusp of a great revelation, and she prayed fervently that the revelation was his eyes being opened to the truth. He had come so far in an incredibly short time, but that wasn't surprising. When Sherlock was interested in something, he focussed on it completely.
I love him so much, she told God, but of course, God already knew that.
She fell asleep, still praying for the man she loved.
Author's note: *The Bible verse about the truth setting you free is John 8:32.
* The second verse about God giving us a spirit not of fear, but of power, is 2 Timothy 1:7.
I hope you enjoyed the whole "not a date" premise in this chapter, as well as the content that includes a lot of what the Book of Acts contains. I encourage you to read it for yourself. It is fascinating to learn about the early history of the Christian faith.