It was Saturday morning on the 31st of July, as Sherlock made his way towards the M40, with Molly instructing him, using Google Maps on her phone.
"I still can't believe Martha insisted we take her Aston Martin," said Molly.
Martha had come for dinner the previous evening, at Molly's invitation. Even though she and Sherlock still had a few things to pack for their trip, Molly had thought it would be good for Martha to see Sherlock's parents again. And it had been a lovely evening with a lot of laughter and reminiscences at the dinner table, mostly of Sherlock's behaviour over the years, with his experiments first as a teenager at home, then at 221B Baker Street. Martha took great delight in informing Sherlock's parents that he had spray painted a smiley face on the wallpaper of the flat and had shot at it, just out of boredom. Sherlock had been unable to keep the pained expression from his face as he had listened without defending himself.
When Victoria had raised her head from her plate to listen, Molly had cleared her throat and indicated Victoria with a jerk of her head.
That had, of course, subdued the grandparents, well, Sherlock's mother really, and the surrogate grandmother too. Sherlock had given Molly a grateful look, happy to have the subject of his past dropped. It was a little irritating to have his past brought up when, for the past four years, he had made every effort to be both a model husband and father.
Sherlock suspected Martha's guilt over his discomfort had been what prompted her to offer the use of her prized vehicle. He'd secretly been envious of John, who had bragged about being given permission to drive it on the one occasion when he had rushed to the hospital to save Sherlock during the Culverton Smith case.
He thought about the conversation that had occurred, as Martha prepared to leave, while he was assisting her to put on her jacket, which had been hanging on one of the coat hooks near the front door.
"Sherlock, I was thinking, would you like to borrow my car for the trip? You could drive me home and bring the car back here. That way, your parents would have your car and the car seats for the girls if they had an emergency need."
Sherlock's brows lifted in astonishment. "You'd be prepared to let someone other than yourself drive it?"
Martha laid a hand on his arm. "Well, I think I'm getting a little long in the tooth for long road trips, and she needs a good run. The last time I drove her a good distance," here, her face clouded suddenly, "was when I picked up Edith to come and see your play a couple years ago."
Sherlock recalled meeting Edith after the performance of the play Molly had written about the life of Jesus, in which he had portrayed Jesus, and Martha had played her namesake. Weeks earlier, Martha had said her older sister had stage four breast cancer, and there was nothing further the doctors could do, aside from keeping her as comfortable and pain free as possible. Edith had died shortly before Christmas, he remembered. Martha had been, unsurprisingly, rather down. But after Molly had given birth to Christina on Christmas Eve, she perked up. Children were a wonderful panacea for sorrow.
Molly, who was holding Christina, came up to them. "Did you just invite Sherlock to drive you home so we can borrow your car?" Sherlock could hear the excitement in her voice.
"I did, and you'd be most welcome to drive it as well."
Sherlock had been pondering whether to take Martha up on her offer, but Molly didn't allow him to make the decision. "We'd love to accept your offer!" Molly looked at him with a pleading expression, "Wouldn't we?"
At least she hadn't completely disregarded his own thoughts on the subject. "If That's what you want, Molly." He looked back at Martha. "And there is merit in what you say about having a car available for my parents to use in the case of emergency. Thank you."
And so, here they were, heading towards Stratford-upon-Avon, which, according to Molly's Google Maps app, was about a two and a half hour drive.
"It was a nice gesture, certainly, although," he gave a wry smile, "It's too bad her car doesn't have bluetooth capability. I miss being able to use it to play music from my phone or yours. Two and a half hours without music might get a little boring."
He heard Molly huff. "So, you don't think we can carry a conversation for that long?"
He chuckled and reached over to squeeze her hand. "Not at all. I've just grown used to having music playing in the background."
"If we want music, we can just listen to the radio or through one of our phones manually," pointed out Molly. "Sure, it won't be as nice as going through the speakers, but it's better than nothing."
Molly tugged her hand away to pick up her phone. "Perhaps I should see how the girls are doing, anyway. Christina was not happy when we left, even though Victoria was excited to be spending time with her grandparents."
"We only left fifteen minutes ago, Molly. Our daughters will be fine. Anyway, I promised Mummy I'd give her a ring once we arrive at the B&B. We can make sure things are okay with the girls then."
"Alright." There were a few beats of silence, then Molly said, "I suppose we can't exactly re-create our honeymoon. I want to check up on the girls at least once a day. Last time, we didn't have any responsibilities like that."
"True." He glanced briefly at Molly, who was looking at him, and smirked. "But I am sure we will have ample time to do other...things. I'm assuming you packed similarly to what you had on our honeymoon?"
"You'll just have to wait to find out."
He gave a little smile at that. She wasn't fooling him for a minute.
They rode in silence for a little while, with occasional directions from Molly, until Sherlock reached the motorway, which they would be on for some time. "Did you happen to check the forecast for this week?" he ventured.
"I did. Looks like the warmest day will be Wednesday, around twenty-three degrees, but then there are showers expected on the days after that."
"So Wednesday might be a nice day for a picnic then - if the proprietor is still offering the service of providing a picnic hamper."
Molly's voice sounded smug as she answered. "I asked about that, and Kara said it is still available, as long as we let her know the day before that we would like one."
Sherlock's lips curved upwards. "I don't suppose you packed the lateral thinking game puzzles, did you?"
"Of course I did! We've barely used them since we came back from our honeymoon."
His smile widened further as the lovely memory of a lateral thinking game where they removed an article of clothing each time they were unable to guess the solution replayed itself in his mind.
"I see that grin, Sherlock. I'm not sure I want to do what we did last time. You let me win, and I don't think you'd do that this time. You'll be determined to just get me naked whilst you are still fully clothed."
"Possibly." He winced as Molly smacked his leg a little harder than necessary. "Hey, that's spousal abuse!"
Molly laughed. "I could claim the same thing when you smack my bum."
"I do not smack your bum, Molly. Those are love taps, and I usually limit them to when we are doing a little role-playing."
"Speaking of role-playing, I might have packed a certain pair of costumes for us."
The only pair of costumes they had was the pirate and wench costumes Molly had received on her hen night from her bridesmaids. Oh, he really liked the sound of that. He appreciated that Molly was making an effort. Sherlock knew quite well he had been a little depressed lately. He had just felt the lack of getting out there regularly to crime scenes and helping to solve murders had made him feel rather useless. Molly worked more hours than he did. It was rather embarrassing to feel she was the one bringing in the income on a consistent basis.
Of course, Molly had never complained, and he did receive £10,000 each month as lifetime compensation for his role in preserving the coffers of the Crown from Irene Adler's blackmail, but he still felt he should be out there, earning the money, not remaining behind as the stay-at-home dad he'd primarily become the previous year.
So, this trip, planned by Molly, meant a great deal to him, and he was determined to make the most of it and show his wife how much he appreciated her efforts. He really was the most blessed of all men.
He forced himself to pick up the thread of their conversation. "I shall look forward to giving my wench some love taps on the bum."
She giggled at that.
For the rest of the journey, they talked of other, less intimate topics.
As they drove down Sheep street towards the B&B, Sherlock commented, "We can come back here for lunch after we've dropped off our suitcases."
"Sounds good. I'm ready for lunch. What with getting the girls their breakfast and giving last-minute instructions for the week to your parents, I didn't even get around to eating the crumpets I put in the toaster."
Sherlock turned his head to give her a reproving look. "You should have told me that. We could have stopped somewhere to get something to eat. I assumed you ate while I was taking the suitcases out to the car."
"It's not a big deal, Sherlock. It isn't like you always eat breakfast yourself. In fact, I don't recall seeing you eat anything either."
The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. He couldn't get away with anything. "I may have been too distracted myself to worry about such trivialities."
Molly let out a huff of laughter at that, but didn't bother responding to his comment.
A few minutes later, they turned into the parking lot of Shadyside Guest Cottage. The cottage where Kara and — he thought for a moment to recall her husband's name — Martin, lived, was on the drive that led up to the B&B, and he assumed they just walked up to the B&B as needed. Therefore, the other car in the parking lot, he assumed, belonged to other guests.
"We will not be alone this week?" he asked Molly, raising a brow.
She pursed her lips. "Sherlock, unlike your brother, we do not have the almost limitless finances to pay for the entire run of the B&B for a week. Kara did tell me there was another couple booked already for the weekend, so I expect they will be leaving some time tomorrow. But that isn't to say that nobody else is booked for the week. I didn't ask."
"Fair enough." He was a little disappointed and couldn't help hoping they would be the only guests for the remainder of the week, selfish though the notion was. From the point of view of the proprietors, they would surely be wanting more business.
As he parked a short distance from the other vehicle, Molly asked, "Do you fancy using your skills to deduce anything about the other guests from looking at the other car?"
His lips tilted upwards. She knew him too well. He loved keeping his brain active that way, even if he only had an audience of one.
He turned off the ignition and exited the Aston Martin, going around to the other side to open Molly's car door for her.
"Thanks, honey," she said, as she got out.
They walked together towards the other vehicle.
It was a black Ford Fiesta 3-door. He walked to the driver's side and peered through the window. Manual transmission.
Sherlock continued to peer into the interior, noting that the driver's seat was back as far as it could go. A tall man, then. A 50 count box of spearmint Mentos in the front console. Always handy to have around to keep the breath smelling minty fresh. There was nothing else he could see, no rubbish on the floor. It was scrupulously clean.
Seeing nothing else of interest, Sherlock looked at the exterior of the car. There was a Cardiff City sticker on the back, as well as a Welsh Dragon one.
Sherlock assimilated all this information quickly.
"So, what do you think?" Molly asked, coming to stand beside him.
Sherlock happily rattled off his deductions, including the reasoning behind them. "The make and model of the car indicates it is most likely owned by a millennial. The three-door, rather than five-door configuration is indicative of someone without children. The black colouring would lead me to deduce it is owned by a male. Also, the manual transmission is usually favoured as a cheaper alternative to automatic, so I deduce a younger millennial, probably in his late twenties."
He paused to take a breath and continued a little more slowly, looking at Molly. "Do you see the stickers on the back? He is a Welsh football fan and resident of Wales, which means he probably wished to leave it for a specific purpose, and the fact that they are here for the weekend only probably means a quick, romantic getaway or possibly an illicit assignation. The chewing gum inside the car indicates a fairly new relationship. Couples of long-standing don't tend to be concerned about their breath constantly smelling fresh."
"True enough," agreed Molly with a giggle. "Morning breath is not always the most delightful thing, but when you love someone, you tend to overlook it."
Sherlock pursed his lips. "Perhaps I need to keep chewing gum on the bedside table in the future."
Molly slipped her hand in his. "Don't be silly, Sherlock. If you had bad breath, I wouldn't even notice it when we are kissing, because you take my breath away."
He smirked and bent to kiss her cheek affectionately. "Not sure that's true, but I'll accept your attempt at reassurance."
"So any last deductions about this couple, or at least the driver?"
"Actually, two things. The absence of personal items beyond the gum, is a sign the car has most likely been cleaned in an attempt to impress the young lady, so that is another sign we are not talking about a married couple. And the driver's seat is all the way back, so the man's height is likely in excess of six feet."
A voice suddenly called out, "Mate, what'cha doin' near my car?"
Sherlock immediately detected the slight burr in the "r" sound that confirmed the man was Welsh.
He turned towards the source of the sound and his mouth dropped open.
Molly nudged him and teased in a soft voice, "You still always miss something."
The man was probably five foot six, but the woman he was with was a good six inches taller. "He obviously allowed her to drive as a demonstration of his trust and presumable sincerity of feelings," he whispered back, as the man who was almost certainly in the age range Sherlock had deduced, approached. Neither was carrying a suitcase, so he supposed they were heading off somewhere for lunch.
Sherlock spoke as the man and his — not wife; no rings — girlfriend or mistress, came closer. "Apologies. My wife and I were just admiring your car."
The man stopped short as recognition widened his eyes and he suddenly seemed very nervous. "Oh, my God. Aren't you that famous London detective, Sherlock Holmes?"
Sherlock immediately noticed the way his right hand dropped to his left ring finger, as if to check for a wedding ring that was not present.
Sherlock inclined his head. "You are correct on that assumption."
The young woman also looked slightly nervous. "Did somebody send you to follow us?"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. A guilty conscience, obviously. His mind connected the dots swiftly. No rings, but the man instinctively put a hand towards his ring finger; the woman's fear of being followed. He gave an inward sigh. Couldn't he get away from cheating spouses even when he was absent from London?
He thought about making a cutting remark about how foolish this girl was if she thought her lover would actually leave his wife for her, that statistically, this was a rare occurrence, and that "once a cheater, always a cheater" was a good phrase to remember. But he suddenly felt pity for the young girl as the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit spoke to him. She was very tall, her figure almost boyish, while her paramour was, despite his insignificant height, someone Sherlock could see as being aesthetically pleasing to a woman's eye. The poor girl probably thought this was her only opportunity for love.
Instead of blasting her for her idiocy, he spoke gently. "I am not here on business, but perhaps God led me here today for this purpose." He looked directly at the young woman. "You can do better than being the 'other woman'. It is very unlikely you will convince this man to leave his wife."
Her expression fell even as the man responded. '''ey, you know nothin' about me. How do you even know what I would or wouldn't do?" His tone was belligerent, yet held a note of fear.
Sherlock's tone became harder as he spoke to the man. "I know enough that you are married, despite the lack of a ring, and that you have taken advantage of this young woman. She deserves better, as does your wife. Perhaps you need to seriously consider what you said in your marriage vows before God about being faithful to her for all the days of your life. You are not just jeopardising your marriage but also the future of this young woman."
The woman gave a sob, and Sherlock saw tears that had formed in her eyes spill down her cheeks. "Oh God, he's right. Take me home, Gary. Go back to your wife. God, I feel so guilty."
Sherlock felt Molly slip her hand into his as he addressed the woman once again. "Young lady, God sees you and can forgive you if you ask. Read the Bible and see for yourself how we have an opportunity to lead better lives that honour God. That's something my own wife helped me see."
"Bloody religious fanatic, aren't ya," the man taunted, then said to his companion, "Don't believe him, Beth. He knows nothin' about us."
She folded her arms. "I think he has you sussed out pretty well, Gary. I thought this weekend would be about us figuring out how to tell your wife you were leaving her, but you haven't even said anything about it."
Her companion's voice took on a whiny tone. "It's complicated."
Sherlock cut in. "I suggest you do as she asks, or I will personally see to it that your affair is exposed to your wife."
Gary gulped. "Fine, fine," he said to Beth. "Let's get our stuff together. I don't need to hear any more talk about God."
He turned to walk back inside, but Beth took an extra moment to say, "Thanks for setting me straight; I needed to hear it. And you're right, I can do better. I'll even take a look at the Bible like you suggested. I did go to church when I was little, but it has been a few years."
Molly spoke for the first time. "Good luck, and God be with you. We will be praying for you, Beth."
Beth sniffed, wiping at the tears still running down her face. "Thanks, I need them."
She turned as well and headed back inside.
Sherlock looked at Molly. "Well, I guess God had plans for us that went beyond just a second honeymoon." He smiled, and they walked back to the Aston Martin.
"Sherlock, why don't we go and get lunch now, instead of taking our suitcases in. That way we won't have to endure any awkwardness if we cross that couple again."
"Good idea, " said Sherlock, opening Molly's door for her once again. "Looks like our second honeymoon is off to a rather interesting start. I certainly didn't expect to be using my detective skills."
He got into the car himself and turned on the ignition, even as Molly picked up the thread of their conversation. "You have to admit, though, it was fun, wasn't it? And who knows what seeds you might have planted in that girl's mind to bring her to a saving knowledge of Jesus?"
He grinned. "I'm glad to have the opportunity to share my faith once again."
"I know you are, honey. And I am really proud of the way you handled things, too. I'm pretty sure the old Sherlock of years ago would have had a distinct lack of compassion for either of them, but instead, your compassion could make a difference in that young girl's life. We may never know, but the potential exists. I'm proud of you."
"You know I can't take credit. I felt the Holy Spirit urging me on what to say." His gaze flicked to her and back to the road ahead as he drove back towards Sheep Street. "Any ideas for lunch, or should we just see what is open?"
"Why don't we go to Lambs Restaurant again?"
"Lambs it is."
Sherlock found a park close to the restaurant. Molly reached into her handbag and gave Sherlock his mask, which was required, then put on her own.
They entered the establishment, where they were shown to a table.
Sherlock and Molly looked at the menu. "A la carte or set price menu?" he asked, looking it over.
"Let's go for the set-price one with three courses," suggested Molly after taking a look for herself.
They supplied their selections to the waitress and waited for the starters to arrive.
"I wonder how these restaurants managed to survive being closed for so many months," coomented Molly after they removed their masks and waited for their food.
Sherlock took a sip of his water before responding. They had both opted to stick to water. "Government assistance in part. But yes, a tourist place like this must have had a difficult time. I too find it remarkable that the majority of businesses seem to have survived."
Sherlock's phone rang, and he answered it. "Hello, Mummy."
"Sherlock, we were getting a little worried. You said you would let us know when you arrived. Did something happen, or did you just forget?"
"Actually, Molly and I had planned to drop off our suitcases at the B&B, then call you before we went to lunch, but we changed our plans and decided to eat lunch first. Molly forgot to eat breakfast." No point in letting them know about the little incident at the B&B, he thought to himself. "So, we are currently sitting in a restaurant, awaiting our food."
"Oh, I saw the crumpets still in the toaster," said his mother. "I'll let you go, then. Just give us a ring later when you are at the B&B so you can talk with the girls."
"Yes Mummy," said Sherlock."I'll call you back in a little while. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, son. Enjoy your lunch."
Sherlock disconnected the call, even as their starters arrived.
Molly had opted for the Pan-fried Halloumi with tomato, red onion and capers. Neither of them had tried this kind of cheese, and Molly had declared she wished to be adventurous. Feeling adventurous himself, Sherlock had chosen Chicken Liver Paté with red onion jam and sourdough toast.
They sampled each other's starters. Sherlock ate the capers from Molly's dish, after she announced she didn't care for them. Even after four years, he was learning new things about his wife.
They both agreed the cheese was a little salty for their taste, and Sherlock discovered Molly had never eaten chicken liver paté either, but she declared it was interesting, if not something she'd feel compelled to eat again.
Their main courses arrived. Molly allowed him to sample some of her Lamb, aubergine and chickpea Tagine with couscous, pomegranate and mint yoghurt, but she only took a couple of chips from his own plate of Cajun Chicken with frites, salsa and sour cream. He'd chosen it specifically because of the chips, even if they had been given a fancy name, but of course, Molly declined to try the chicken as Sherlock knew she didn't like spicy food.
"You eat the rest. I'm full," Molly said, pushing her plate towards him, once he had finished his own plate. She still had almost a third of her meal left. Usually she would take leftovers home, but in this case, he knew she didn't want to be eating leftovers when they would be going out to eat or having a picnic or two on other occasions.
He took the plate and said, "In that case, let us take our desserts home with us."
He kept his eyes searching for their waitress as he ate the rest of Molly's food, then raised a hand to wave at her when he spotted her.
"Ready for the dessert menu, sir?" she asked, seeing the mow empty plates.
"Yes, but could we have the desserts in doggie bags, please?"
"Of course. I'd suggest you avoid the desserts with ice cream, in that case."
Sherlock and Molly looked at the menu. "Looks like we will be getting the same desserts as we had four years ago," he said to Molly. The Marbled Chocolate Mousse Cake and Passion fruit Panna Cotta would be the best options for taking with them.
He ordered the desserts, and a few minutes later, Sherlock and Molly were on their way back to the B&B.
"If you hadn't said they were the same desserts as we had on our honeymoon, I wouldn't have remembered," said Molly in the car. "I just hope there's still a fridge in the guest rooms."
"I think it most unlikely they would remove them," said Sherlock confidently.
Sherlock pulled into the parking lot again. This time it was empty. Molly had called to say they were about to arrive, and Kara had said she was already waiting for them inside, husband on hand to take their suitcases.
Indeed, Martin must have been watching for them, because he came out of the B&B as soon as Sherlock turned off the engine.
Sherlock went to the boot and opened it, remembering with a slight shudder a rather bumpy trip inside that boot several years earlier.
He had just removed the suitcases when Martin came up to him. "I will take them, Mr. Holmes," said the man, whose brown hair had slightly more grey at the temples than four years earlier.
"Let me take one of them," said Sherlock.
Martin smiled. "No sir, you are the guests. Allow me the blessing of doing my job and taking these to your room. Kara has already got you checked in, seeing as you are repeat customers."
Allow me the blessing. Sherlock ventured a question, even as he took the desserts from Molly and followed the man. "Are you by chance a Christian?"
Martin slowed his pace and turned his head. "As a matter of fact, I am, and so's my wife. God has been good in providing the means for us to still be able to return to operate our little business, despite the pandemic."
Sherlock and Molly glanced at one another. "We're Christians too," offered Molly, as Martin set down a suitcase temporarily to open the front door.
Martin chuckled. "I know you are. Your husband has made no secret of his faith, and we've followed his career ever since you stayed with us for your honeymoon. I wondered if he would pick up on our own faith. That's why I used the words I did about receiving the blessing."
After a welcome from Kara, Martin led them upstairs to the Imperial room, where they had slept last time.
"Will there be other guests this week?" asked Sherlock curiously.
"We did have another couple staying here who were only supposed to leave tomorrow, but they had some kind of emergency and left, apparently. We also had a cancellation from a couple because they came down with the virus. As for any other guests, it is really rather strange; you are our only ones this week, but next week we have four couples coming to stay with us."
Sherlock darted a glance at Molly. "Well, we are looking forward to our stay. Thank you for bringing up our suitcases."
"You're most welcome. If there's anything you need, just call the number on the fridge in the kitchen."
He left then, and at last, Sherlock and Molly were alone.
Author's note: Ready for the romantic week that lies ahead? I hope you liked the bit of detective work Sherlock did. I did some research about those cars and statistics of ownership. Did you have fun seeing him "miss something"? I did not pre-plan him doing any detective work until I got into the chapter, and initially, I was going to have him say exactly what he was thinking of saying to the young woman. Then I thought of a better way to go about it where he got to show his faith. Did I pull it off successfully? I also researched Welsh soccer teams and their logos.
There are references in this chapter to events which occurred in A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage, A Honeymoon Journey, and Journey to a New Home.
Follows, favourites and feedback appreciated, as usual.
