Author's note: Surprise! I know, I am just not consistent anymore with publishing. I apologize, but I have had a lot going on in real life that has taken priority over my writing/publishing. I feel it was a major feat for me to even write my story surrounding the Queen's death. But anyway, I hope you will still enjoy this next chapter.

Sherlock paid the taxi driver, retrieved his suitcase and duffel bag containing his violin from the boot and went to the outer door of 221B Baker Street.

He unlocked the outer door and entered, then opened the inner door, wondering if Mrs. Hudson would pop out of her flat to greet him. She always seemed to have an uncanny knack of knowing when he was coming or going. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect she had some kind of video surveillance on the front door to alert her to anyone entering. Or else she had extremely sensitive hearing.

Unsurprisingly, he was closing the inner door when Mrs. Hudson appeared. When she saw he was alone, an expression of concern crossed her face. "Sherlock, did things not work out for you and Molly? You're not coming back to get high, are you?"

He chuckled and set down his suitcase and the duffel bag. Then he engulfed the surprised woman in a hug.

Mrs. Hudson looked flustered when he released her. "You're already high," she said accusingly.

Sherlock smiled affectionately at her, not at all insulted. He supposed he was acting rather out of character, but then again, he was a new man, wasn't he? "Not at all, Mrs. Hudson. I am going to stay clean for the rest of my life. I am not going to let the woman I love down."

Mrs Hudson's expression changed from one of accusation to delight. "So, things went well, then? You're clean, and you and Molly are - together?"

A smile spread over his face. "We are now, and we're going to stay that way, Mrs. Hudson. Thanks to Molly, I'm a new man, and I've begun a new life."

She gave him a sly look. "Sounds like words of a man who is enjoying sexual fulfillment at last."

Sherlock frowned at that. "Mrs. Hudson, it is not like that. The love Molly and I share is pure, and it will remain that way until we receive the blessing of God in a church."

Her eyebrows lifted in astonishment. "Church, you say? You've said on multiple occasions that you do not believe in God."

"That was because I never bothered to look beyond myself. Molly has shown me the error of my ways. When I say I am a new man, it is because I have become a Christian, like Molly."

She blinked a few times, as if unsure of how to respond, then managed, "Well, as long as you are happy, dear, that's all that matters."

"I am. I must take my things upstairs now. I need to go see John, but I will be back with Molly this evening, so you can speak with her as well."

"Will she be staying here with you, then?"

He let out a huff of frustration. "Did I not already make it clear we are not sleeping together? No, we shall maintain separate residences," he smiled at her, " at least until I can get a ring on her finger in church, as I said before."

"My goodness, you are a changed man. Well, I'll let you go then, and I'll see you tonight."

He nodded and picked up the suitcase and duffel bag once again as she returned to her flat.

As Sherlock walked upstairs, he reflected upon the fact that he hadn't even played his violin whilst staying with Molly. His violin had always calmed him, but he had been so absorbed in learning about the Bible that it had remained untouched.

He put the suitcase and bag on his bed and went into the kitchen to retrieve a pair of keys that were in his miscellaneous drawer. He would need them later. Then, he returned downstairs, hailing a taxi as soon as he exited to the street.

As soon as he was seated in the taxi, Sherlock sent a text to John.

Leaving Baker Street for your place now.

Alright, I'll see you in a bit, was John's reply.

A short time later, John, holding Rosamund at his hip, answered his front door to Sherlock's knock. "Come in, mate. I've just boiled the kettle. I'm anxious to hear about what's happening between you and Molly, seeing as you never answered my text about things the other day."

Sherlock reached for his goddaughter. "Let me take Rosamund while you prepare the tea."

John released his daughter to Sherlock, and he sat with her at the table. For the first time, he looked at the sweet little girl on his lap and thought about the possibility of having his own offspring. It had never interested him before, but now, he couldn't help thinking it might be rather nice to see what a baby created by Molly and himself would be like. Intelligent, that was for certain. With their combined DNA, the chances of producing a genius were surely highly likely. But he and Molly had different features. Their different hair colour, eyes, shape of their facial features, even their disparate height, all were traits that promised endless possibilities when mixed together. What a delightful experiment it would be, and it would probably be one worth repeating several times to view different combinations.

He held up a finger and watched as Rosamund's chubby fist curled around it. Did Molly even want children? If so, how many? That was certainly a conversation they would need to have. Even as he looked at the child on his lap, he suddenly thought what a miracle of creation she was. How could he have been so blind to not recognise the work of God in a perfect union that created another human life? That thought brought with it a vision of what the act of creating a child would entail, the uniting of two bodies. He swallowed. He needed to keep his mind away from that, or he'd find himself uncomfortable again.

John returned to the table with the teacups and set one down in front of Sherlock. "I'll just put Rosie into her bouncer so we can talk," he said to Sherlock.

Sherlock relinquished his goddaughter and waited for John to return to the table.

"Well," said John, once he was sitting, "out with it. Tell me your news. You and Molly are together now, aren't you?"

Sherlock lifted his cup to his lips, took a sip and set it down. Then he took a deep breath. "We are, indeed, involved in a romantic relationship, but I think I should tell you what happened during the days between when you last saw me and Molly's return."

John's look of expectation changed to one of confusion. "What do you mean? I assumed you just sulked for a week, and then Molly unexpectedly returned."

"Unfortunately, it was much more than that." Sherlock related his return to drugs after receiving the goodbye letter from Molly, feeling embarrassed at his weakness, but he didn't see censure in John's eyes. Instead, he saw compassion.

"Oh, my God, Sherlock, if I'd known how depressed you were, I would never have left you alone for so long," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I thought you'd just pick yourself up, as you always do."

Sherlock sighed. "I can't explain it, but this was different. I've lost people before that I care about, most notably, Mary, but this felt like a death when I lost Molly. I'd just acknowledged to myself my feelings for her, and I was unable to explain what had happened, and I had no idea if I'd ever see her again."

John patted his arm sympathetically. "Well, keep going, mate. What brought her back to London?"

Sherlock continued the narration, telling John how Molly had only returned after being told by Mrs. Hudson that he was killing himself with drugs.

John's brows rose at the mention of Molly taking refuge in Mrs. Hudson's cottage in Cornwall. "I had no idea Mrs. Hudson had a cottage."

Sherlock's lips quirked. "Me neither. Guess there are a few secrets she has still managed to keep hidden from us for years, just as she did when we discovered she owned an Aston Martin."

"True."

Sherlock continued to explain how Molly had invited Sherlock to stay with her as he detoxed, and her refusal to entertain the idea of a romantic relationship between them due to her differing beliefs, or rather, his lack thereof, even though they acknowledged their love for one another.

John looked stunned at this revelation. "I got that wrong then when I asked about whether she initiated you into the joys of intimacy. But, Molly's a Christian? Wow, I have always thought of her as being a really lovely, ethical person, but someone serious about religion, that's definitely a surprise."

Sherlock pursed his lips. "Well, I missed that too, but please, do not confuse religion with Christianity. They are two separate things. Being a committed Christian is a way of life, not just a ritual performed because you were brought up to do things in a certain way to make yourself feel you are earning your salvation. The Bible says that salvation is a gift from God that cannot be earned, just accepted. And trying to do good is our response to that gift, rather than an attempt to earn it."

John frowned slightly. "I can't say that I really get what you are saying."

Sherlock thought for a moment, then came up with an analogy. "Perhaps it would be helpful if we thought in terms of purchasing a car. We buy the car, take out a loan for it, but it is not truly ours until we make enough payments on it so we own it. That is the way a lot of people view salvation, it has to be paid off in installments like good deeds. But Christianity is different. It is like we have received the car, completely paid for, as a gift." He wrinkled his nose. "It is a vastly inferior analogy, but I hope you can comprehend my meaning."

John looked thoughtful. "I think I'm getting the gist of it. I suppose it is like me and my feelings on how I was raised in the Catholic church. It was just something I had to do each week, attend mass, go to confession, be a good Catholic boy so I would be worthy of heaven." He gave a rueful smile. "But then I'd just do whatever I wanted during the week and pay my penance at confession so I could repeat the cycle. Guess I wasn't the model Catholic boy at all."

Sherlock nodded. "I'm glad you can see what I'm getting at. But John, I have to tell you, when Molly said we could not be together if we didn't share the same beliefs, because eventually it would tear us apart, I made the decision to actually look into what she believed with an open mind. I started reading the Bible." He took a sip of tea and then looked his friend in the eye. "And, believe it or not, I pondered everything I was reading thoroughly, and I researched different aspects, like the authenticity of Jesus as a historical figure. I've not only changed my view on the existence of God, I've fully accepted the truth in what I've been reading. I believe it, John. Perhaps you think me a fool, but I don't care. I am at peace in a way I've never been before. I truly believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and that he came to earth to atone for our sin. He died and rose from the dead again for me, for everyone, and all they have to do is believe it to receive the inheritance of eternal life."

John set down his own teacup and looked thoughtfully at Sherlock. "It's strange, but there does seem to be an indefinable difference in you. So, when did you have this revelation?"

"After I went to bed last night. I'm not sure how well versed you are with the Bible, John, but I was reading about Saul's conversion. He was a man who was well known as someone who persecuted Christians, and he had a personal encounter with the voice of Jesus, who was already dead and, according to his disciples, resurrected, and had gone to heaven. That encounter changed Saul completely, and he became known as Paul. That man, who had no reason to change his views unless something extreme happened to cause it, wrote many of the books of the New Testament, according to Molly."

John furrowed his brow. The story sounds familiar. I probably heard it in my youth. Well, I'll just say this, mate - good for you. So, what are your plans with Molly now? Did you tell her?"

Sherlock wished he could talk more about what he believed to John, to help his friend know the truth for himself, but now was not the time. "She knows. She came into the bedroom, telling me she had been unable to sleep and that she had been praying for me. She helped me commit myself to a life following Jesus." He smiled. "And now there are no obstacles to us being together." He took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, wondering how John would react to his next words. "With that in mind, I was hoping you'd accompany me in finding an engagement ring for Molly."

John almost dropped his teacup, which he had picked up again to take another sip. "An engagement ring! Are you having me on?"

Sherlock folded his arms defensively. He should have known John would react this way. He supposed it wasn't the usual way a relationship began, by running almost to the finish line before it had barely begun, but they had a history together, even if it had not been a romantic one before. They knew one another very well, and he knew he was committed to Molly, even as she was committed to him. "I assure you, I am not having you on, John. I wish to marry Molly as soon as possible. I've wasted enough years in denial, and I know what I want, and I know what she wants too."

"Well, I suppose you've always been the type of man who jumps in with both feet anyway when you've made a decision. Do you have any idea on what kind of ring you'd like to get her?"

A smile spread over Sherlock's face. That actually had gone better than he expected. "Not a clue," he said cheerfully. "Any suggestions?"

A short time later, Sherlock, John and Rosamund were in a taxi, on their way to find a suitable engagement ring for Sherlock to present to Molly.

Two hours later, following a quick break to grab a sandwich for a late lunch, Sherlock, a grizzling Rosamund and annoyed John were just outside yet another jewellery shop. Sherlock could have sworn they had walked through the entire Westfield London Shopping Centre by this time. "Just choose a bloody ring already, would you?" grumbled John. He gestured at a bench. "I'm going to sit here and give Rosie a bottle while you check out this shop and dismiss every selection on offer. They're all either too ostentatious, or too boring or too cheap-looking, or they remind you too much of the ring Molly had from her previous fiancé."

Sherlock pursed his lips, "It has to be perfect, John, a symbol of how my heart has changed for the better because of her." His eyes widened suddenly. "That's it, John! A heart. Are there diamonds in the shape of a heart?"

John shrugged. "Probably." He sat on the bench with his daughter and reached into the changing bag.

Sherlock entered the shop alone and went straight to a shop assistant. Without preamble, he said, "I need to find an engagement ring in the shape of a heart. Do you have any?" There was no point in wasting time looking at the rings on display, he figured, if the answer was no. He could save himself some time.

The man, who was quite elderly, looked a little surprised at the forthright manner in which Sherlock had approached him, but he responded quickly. "Yes indeed, sir. We don't have a big selection, but I can show you the display case where you will find rings that have a heart shape. Are you looking for a solitaire, or do you want diamonds in the band? If you wish to find a heart-shaped diamond surrounded by other stones, I'm afraid it would need to be a custom order, though."

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. "A plain solitaire is what I would prefer. My future fiancée is not a woman who looks for unnecessary ostentation."

The assistant nodded, and Sherlock followed him to a display case.

Unlocking the case, the man drew out three solitaire heart-shaped rings in different sizes. "How about one of these? If you prefer a different size, I can see what else we have."

Sherlock bent over and inspected the three rings carefully. The first was much too large, and he felt the ring would be cumbersome, dwarfing the delicacy of Molly's fingers. The second was too small and insignificant looking. But the third ring was just right. Too large, too small, just right, he thought. Wasn't there some child's fairytale about that? The answer came out of nowhere, a long forgotten memory. Goldilocks and the Three Bears, that's it.

"May I pick up this ring and inspect the band size?" he asked.

"Of course. Do you know your lady's ring size?"

"I know the size of her fingers. That will suffice for me to determine if it will fit," said Sherlock confidently. He removed the ring from its velvet casing and inspected the band, mentally inserting Molly's finger inside it. To his surprise and pleasure, he was sure it was just the right size. It had obviously been made for her.

"What do you think, sir?" asked the shop assistant, whose name was Bill.

"It's perfect," said Sherlock. "I'll take it."

"Would you like to finance the ring? We have a very competitive interest rate."

Sherlock snorted. The price tag was below £4000, well under his credit card limit. "That won't be necessary. I will pay for it in its entirety."

He headed over to the till, and the man rang up his purchase, taking his credit card.

Sherlock wasn't surprised when the man's brows lifted and he said, "I thought you looked familiar. You're the detective who exposed that Smith bloke recently. Nasty business, that."

Sherlock nodded. "It certainly was. I am glad he is mow safely locked away where he cannot murder anyone else."

The man shuddered slightly. "You and me both. Well, congratulations on your impending engagement."

"Thank you," responded Sherlock, returning his card to his wallet and taking the small bag containing the ring in its box. Mission accomplished, he thought with satisfaction.

He sauntered out of the shop and towards John, who spied the bag. "Amazing. You found one. Can I see it?" He lifted Rosamund up to his shoulder, and she let out a loud burp.

Fortuitous timing, Sherlock thought. Out loud he said, "I'll let you take a look if I can come back to your place and borrow your laptop. I want to do some research on how quickly Molly and I can be married."

John buckled his daughter back into the car carrier. "I vaguely recall when Mary and I were planning our wedding and had to do the paperwork. I think there's a minimum twenty-eight day's notice, but sure, you can come back to my place if you want, though I'm not sure why you can't do it at Molly's."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, as of today, I am moving back to Baker Street. It is best that Molly and I do not remain under the same roof, now there is a change in the status of our relationship. Don't want to, um," he felt himself flush slightly, "let things get out of control between us."

John stood and picked up the car carrier, then glanced at Sherlock as they walked back to the entrance of the shopping centre. "I assume you're talking about having sex. Honestly, mate, if you're ready for it, why would you deny what comes naturally?"

"Apparently, you don't know much about what Christians believe, John. It's called abstinence before marriage. Why else would I feel the need to get married so quickly? I want to be with Molly, and I'm afraid of my own feelings for her, because they are overwhelming."

They passed through the doors to the outside and headed to the taxi stand. "In that case, I guess it makes sense, though you're right, I don't know why it's such a big deal." John raised his free hand to stop Sherlock from speaking. "Though I certainly respect your decision."

"Thank you, John. Now there just remains one question of importance."

"Whether Molly will say yes?" John guessed.

Sherlock snorted with laughter. "Of course not. I'm not worried about that at all." He halted, and John did as well, giving him a curious look."John, I would like very much if you would consent to being my best man."

John smiled. "I'd be honoured, Sherlock."

When they arrived at John's, he brought out his laptop and handed it to Sherlock. "It's the UK government page," he said, trying to be helpful.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm not a moron, John."

He perused the information for registering for marriage, made a note of what documents were needed and the local registry office, which was Westminster. He thought for a moment, then decided to go ahead and book an appointment for the following Monday. He hoped Molly would be able to get off work a little early. As it was, they would have to wait almost a month, and he didn't want to have to wait any longer than necessary.

He felt John's eyes on him as he made the appointment, but to his credit, John didn't comment about Sherlock making precipitate arrangements. Fortunately, Rosamund had fallen asleep in her car carrier and had not yet awakened.

When he was finished, he closed up the laptop. "Thanks, John."

"You're welcome. So, how are you going to do it, then?"

For a moment, Sherlock wondered if John was asking how he was going to have sex with Molly, then he realised his friend was probably wondering how he planned to propose. "I don't know. Any suggestions?"

"Well, I was planning a romantic dinner with Mary, except that you interrupted me," said John, quirking his lips.

"Boring," said Sherlock immediately. Proposing over a romantic dinner was just so predictable.

John shrugged. "Well, maybe so, but I am not the most creative person, as you know."

Sherlock smirked. That was true enough. "Well, I'd like to think of something that is completely original, that speaks to our relationship in a unique way."

"I suppose you could just pop the question in the lab. After all, that is where you have spent most of your time together in the past few years, aside from the mortuary. I wouldn't recommend that as a suitable setting for a proposal, though."

Sherlock laughed. "Indeed not. The mortuary may have been Smith's favourite room, but it is certainly not mine." He thought for a minute about John's suggestion of proposing in the lab, and then an idea came to him. "John, you're brilliant! I have the perfect way to do it, and I can pretty much guarantee nobody will have ever made their proposal in the same way."

John eyed him curiously. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Nope." Sherlock popped his p. "At least, not now," he amended. "I might think about telling you once the deed is done."

He remained with John for the rest of the afternoon. When Rosamund woke, Sherlock spent time entertaining her, thinking again of how much he wanted the opportunity to spoil a child of his own. At least Rosamund was past the point in which she would throw a rattle at his face when he gave it to her. John even let him give her a bottle.

"Sherlock, I hate to admit it, but you're a natural," he said, watching as Sherlock lifted the baby to his shoulder to burp her, in the way he had seen John do. "Do you think you'd like to try fatherhood for yourself?"

Sherlock smiled. "Molly and I have not yet discussed that, due to the recent change in status of our relationship, but I am certainly open to the idea. I know Molly would be an excellent mother."

John nodded. "She has always been a wonderful godmother and babysitter. She told me once that she used to do a lot of it when she was young, and that she loves children, so I don't think you're going to have to worry about her not wanting children of her own."

Relief spread through Sherlock. "Thank you for telling me that. Of course, if she were not amenable to the idea of having children, I would accept it. After all, Molly is my priority, but it pleases me to think we would feel the same way."

He brought the baby forward, so he was holding her beneath her armpits, and he looked into her blue eyes. "What do you think, Rosamund? Would you like your godfather and godmother to create a playmate for you?"

Rosamund merely giggled and reached for one of his curls.

"I think that's a yes," said John.

Sherlock calculated what time he would need to leave John's place, so that he could arrive at the hospital a little early and enact his plan to propose.

He arrived at the hospital ten minutes before the end of Molly's shift and headed directly to the lab she usually occupied, fingering the ring box in the pocket of his Belstaff.

He opened the door to see Molly in the midst of the usual cleanup she did at the end of the day.

She looked up as he entered, and a bright smile lit her face. "Sherlock! I thought you were going to wait for me in the locker room."

He smiled. "Change of plans. I was hoping I could borrow a microscope to look at something interesting I found today."

She smiled, gesturing at the microscope he usually claimed for his own. "Be my guest. I'll just finish tidying, and I'll be ready to go."

"It can wait a moment," said Sherlock. He walked towards Molly and took her into his arms to give her a lingering kiss.

First things first, after all.

Author's note: So, Sherlock is ready to pop the question. Any thoughts on what he plans to do?

I hope you enjoyed seeing some interaction once again with Mrs. Hudson and John!

Just a reminder that Mrs. Hudson's cottage is my own personal canon creation, as you can see in my story, A Journey through Molly's Diary.

Any and all comments appreciated!