Author's note: Sorry for the long delay. My life has had many ups and downs this year, some great high points like a daughter graduating high school, and some ultra lows, including having to cancel some European travel plans for now. But I am keeping my trust in God that things will work out as they should when the time is right and I will still get to travel to see a beloved family member I have waited for a long time to visit. So, to cheer myself up, I wanted to publish this very special chapter.

It's been a good day, Sherlock reflected as he settled once again into Molly's bed for the night. Funny how he wasn't missing his own bed at all. He did feel rather guilty though for displacing Molly. Tomorrow he'd have to insist he take the spare room instead. At some point he'd have to return to Baker Street and think about restoring the flat, buying new furnishings. But for now, he was content where he was.

He stared up towards the ceiling, as he thought about what had occurred today. The clock was ticking, and he knew it wouldn't be fair to either Molly or himself to continue in this relationship limbo. It was just torturing them both. He'd desperately wanted to act like any other person taking a woman out to dinner, treating her the way she deserved to be treated, letting the world know they were together. As it was, if that bloody photographer from earlier in the day really was a reporter, there would be some awkward questions to contend with. He knew he shouldn't have kissed her in the park or before bed, but the sweet invitation of her lips called to him constantly.

He pushed those thoughts aside and reflected further on what he had learned that day in his Bible reading, what had been most extraordinary. The conversion of Saul. Here was a learned man who had persecuted the followers of Jesus savagely, and yet, he had, according to Molly, become one of the most important figures in the New Testament, responsible for writing much of it. That was a powerful testimony that certainly gave more credence to the whole narrative of the Bible.

It didn't make sense that someone so against those first Christians who had obviously not been witness to the resurrection in person, should come to believe it so wholeheartedly unless there was something that happened to convict him of it.

Sherlock felt a sudden urge to re-read the account of Saul's conversion, now that he had a little more context by what Molly had said of the man writing a significant portion of the New Testament.

He turned on the bedside lamp, slipped out of bed and went to retrieve Molly's Bible from where it still lay on the coffee table, then took it into the bedroom.

Sherlock got back into bed but sat with his legs folded, duvet covering his lower half as he turned back a few pages to re-read Acts 9.

On the way to Damascus, a light had appeared around Saul, and he had heard a voice say, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"

And when he had asked the voice who was speaking, he heard, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting."

The voice hadn't said God, nor another name, it was specifically Jesus, the man who had been crucified.

Sherlock suddenly felt a tingle go through his body as he continued to read about Ananias coming to Saul and restoring his sight. And after that, Saul had boldly preached the word of God and the truth of Jesus, and he in turn had become a target where people wanted to kill him.

If God could forgive a man like Saul and use him to do great things, does that mean I am worthy of redemption, as Molly has said to me? That my life has a purpose beyond this one? Sherlock wondered.

Sherlock set down the Bible and lifted his knees, then buried his face in his arms, feeling an oppressive weight. He'd dismissed God as fiction, had done so much he regretted, disregarded what was right in order to pursue his own brand of justice, and he had hurt people because of it.

He recalled what Molly had said to him a couple days earlier. "Please, consider the reasons why you are still here when you could so easily have died, and think about the way your violin survived that explosion."

Why was he still here? Did God really love him that much? Had the violin been a sign to help show him God was around him at all times?

Sherlock felt tears clog his throat. He hadn't persecuted Christians in the way Saul had, but he had certainly dismissed the notion of Christianity in general as something only the ignorant needed as a crutch to help them feel worthy of living. But hadn't he done the same, using his intellect to solve crimes that would make him feel important and prideful that he was superior to others?

The tears began to fall even as Sherlock realised he was not trying to analyse whether he believed the story of Saul's conversion. He already believed it was true. And if it was true, there was no need to question further whether Jesus had been resurrected, because Saul had had a personal experience with the man who had been crucified.

Again, Sherlock's mind recalled some of Molly's words. "I believe that God saved you for a purpose. He's not done with you. He wants you to know Him. But it will take a leap of faith, because belief is something intangible, a conviction of the truth even if we cannot see it physically."

"Am I really worthy, God, after all I've done?" he asked silently as he continued to weep.

He didn't even realise he was no longer alone until he felt the bed dip down and a soft arm come around his shoulders while a hand stroked his hair.

She said nothing, just allowed him to weep quietly, as if sensing he needed to release these emotions. He was glad she was with him. It was funny how she was always the one he turned to in times of crisis, and he hadn't even understood why.

An echo of the past surrounded him. "If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything I think I am, would you still want to help me?" That night he'd been asking if Molly believed in him, and she had proved she did by her actions. Now he had to ask something so much greater - whether God believed in him.

He lifted his head and looked at her. "Molly, you've told me belief takes a leap of faith and I'm ready to make it. But am I really worthy?"

"Oh, Sherlock," he heard the infinite tenderness in her voice, "of course you are worthy. In and of ourselves we are not, because we all sin and fall short of the glory of God, but what Jesus did for us makes us worthy in God's eyes when we accept it. His precious blood covers every sin and allows God to see Jesus in us, which makes us holy as well."

"So what do I do now?" he asked.

"Do you truly believe what you've read, what Jesus did for you, and that he was everything he said he was, and that he rose from the dead?'

"I do," he responded solemnly.

"Then just talk to Jesus, surrender your life to him. He will be your guide from now on."

He furrowed his brow, perplexed. "You mean speak out loud?"

"You don't have to. You can say it in your heart," she said, her fingers still stroking his curls lightly.

He made his decision. "I shall do it."

He closed his eyes. "God, I've denied your existence. I've gone my own way, believing in nothing higher than myself, and I now know how foolish I've been. I'm sorry. From now on, I surrender my life to you. I believe you died and rose again for me, and I thank you for making me worthy. Help me to do what is right." He paused, then added, "And thank you for bringing Molly into my life, because I wouldn't be here now without her."

He opened his eyes and looked at Molly, whose own eyes were brimming with tears. "Did I do it wrong?" He remembered asking those words at John's reception.

Her smile was tremulous. "Of course not. I'm so happy, Sherlock. When you accept Christ's gift, you receive the Holy Spirit, just as the disciples did at Pentecost."

"I do? I mean, I did? I don't feel any different."

"Don't you?" she countered. "Are you still uncertain or doubting what the Bible says?"

He shook his head, gesturing at the Bible still open on his other side. "No. I couldn't sleep, and I had this urge to re-read the account of Saul's conversion. As I did so, I realised I wasn't reading it as a sceptic, but as someone who was just amazed at what happened to him." He smiled, feeling a peace he'd never felt before settle over him. He felt like a new person on the inside, ready to face the world.

She rested her head against his shoulder. "My prayers have been answered, Sherlock."

His hand came up to stroke her cheek gently. "What made you come into the bedroom when you did?"

"I couldn't sleep. For some reason I felt this weight pressing in on me to pray for you. I heard the bedroom door open and I thought you were going to the toilet, but you didn't. I prayed a bit more, and then something told me to get up and check on you. When I reached the bedroom door, I could hear you crying, and I knew I had to come in and comfort you."

He felt the wetness on his hand from her tears. "It's strange, Molly, I feel as if this was all supposed to happen. Do you think God orchestrated it?"

"I'm sure He did."

He had to ask one more question. "Does this mean you'll allow me to court you now?"

She gave a choked laugh. "I don't see why not."

He tilted her chin and shifted it so he could claim her lips with his own. He felt profoundly grateful that God had given him this chance at happiness here on earth, even as he felt that new purpose for his life.

Her hand, which had dropped from his hair when he had been praying, came back up to his shoulder.

Her lips were so sweet and yielding this time, and she didn't pull away with guilt or regret. They were committing themselves fully to one another, even as they would do publicly when they married.

Married. Yes, they had to move things along, now there was no longer any obstacle to them being together. He wanted the world to know that Molly Hooper was his, and that she had chosen him. The thought made him remove his lips from hers, even as she made a small sound of protest.

"Molly," he took her hands in his, "I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I don't want a long engagement. I want to marry you as soon as possible. Make up for lost time, as it were."

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. "Did I miss something? I don't recall you proposing to me."

"Oh, my love," he said, "it's a foregone conclusion, isn't it?" He pressed a kiss to her neck, then her shoulder, and he felt her sharp inhalation. Once again, she wore only that chemise, and the allure of her bare skin excited him, making him long to slide that strap down. "I hardly think we are going to be content with just kisses, Molly, for very long. I want to be with you, in every sense of the word."

She swallowed. "I want that too, but I want you to continue growing in your faith as well without me being a hindrance to that."

He looked at her seriously, squeezing her hands gently. "Don't worry, I have every intention to continue my study. This isn't a flash in the pan, Molly. I want to learn what it is to be a true believer, and I know you'll help me with that. At the same time, I need you to know my love and desire for you is something I wish to pursue as well. I'm afraid you are forever stuck with me."

Her lips tilted upwards. "You know there's nothing I want more, Sherlock. If I hadn't believed God had a plan, I would have given up on you long ago." She paused, then added, "That being said, it would be nice to tell people you proposed to me instead of just that you started making wedding plans."

"You win, Molly Hooper. I will try to think of the perfect way to propose to you soon. I'm just saying, no long engagement like you had with that Tim fellow."

She gave him a playful nudge. "Don't pretend you don't remember his name, and yes, I agree. I wouldn't want a long engagement either. I should get back to bed now, though."

he heaved a regretful sigh, knowing she was right. "Alright. At least if we find that picture in the papers tomorrow, we don't have to try to find a way to explain the kiss."

She dimpled at him. "Won't Angelo be surprised to discover we are more than the friends you told him we were?"

"Somehow, I don't think so."

She leaned in to kiss him lightly, then got off the bed. "See you in the morning, Sherlock."

"Goodnight, love." He watched as she left and closed the door behind her. Then he set the Bible onto the bedside table, turned off the lamp and settled into bed.

He thought he'd lie awake for a long time, reflecting on what had just happened, but he didn't. It was like a comforting presence called him into slumber.

He awoke to the faint sound of singing. He smiled, as the memory of what had occurred a few hours earlier came to him. He knew and understood her happiness. He felt like playing his violin to express his own happiness. This was the first day of his new life as a believer and as a man who had captured the heart of the most beautiful woman in the world.

With that in mind, Sherlock dressed hastily, wanting to be with her.

He reached her in the kitchen where she stood before the stove, making another delicious breakfast, and he noted she was not yet dressed. Of course, he thought to himself, she hadn't taken clothes with her for today. Another reason he needed to remove himself back to Baker Street so she could have her bedroom back. Along with their relationship change to a mutually romantic one, he also didn't need the temptation of having her so close at night.

He placed his hands on her shoulders from behind, and she stopped singing to turn her head and smile at him. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you." The love in her eyes was so evident, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her passionately, but instead, he said, "I think it's time I go back to Baker Street."

Her smile disappeared, to be replaced by a crease that formed between her brows. "Why? Don't you like staying here?"

His lips quirked. "I fear I like it a little too much, Molly. Now that our relationship status has changed, I think I need to return to Baker Street to sleep," he nodded towards her dressing gown, "and you need to be able to sleep in your own bedroom."

She gave a little sigh and turned off the heat on the stove. Plates were ready for the eggs and bacon. "I guess you're right." His hands dropped from her shoulders as she turned to face him. "I have to ask this, Sherlock. Do you still have any drugs hidden away at Baker Street?"

He felt his face flush. "Yes, but I am going to get rid of them, Molly, I promise. I have no need for drugs anymore. I know God will keep me away from them, as will you."

She bit her lip. "I don't want it to seem like I don't believe your intentions aren't good, but do you think I can be with you when you get them, so I can watch you dispose of them?"

For a moment he felt angry, and his lips tightened, but then he realised she had the right to see for herself he was committed to staying clean, and he nodded. She wanted to be there in case he felt tempted, and he couldn't blame her. Hadn't he shown how weak he was by returning to drugs after she'd left town? "When I go back to Baker Street tonight, you can come with me, and we can let Mrs. Hudson know we're together at the same time. How does that sound?" He smiled then and raised his hand to caress her cheek tenderly. "I think she will be delighted."

She made a soft sound of pleasure as he touched her. "Alright. I can hardly believe this is really happening, Sherlock."

"Believe it, Molly. Just as you've helped me come to believe in what I've been reading in the Bible, believe that we have a future together because of it. Believe that my love for you will never be any less than it is now. It will continue to grow."

"Just like my love has continued to grow for you, Sherlock." She turned her attention to putting eggs and bacon on the plates as Sherlock watched.

Sherlock took the plates to the table, and as they ate breakfast together, he began to formulate a plan for the day. He needed to see John, let him know all that was happening, and he hoped he could convince his friend to accompany him so he could buy an engagement ring. He also wanted to find out how quickly he and Molly could be married. He needed to ask her if she would move into Baker Street and whether she would be okay with using her furnishings to replace what had been lost. He also needed to purchase a replacement desk. That was an item of furniture Molly didn't have.

He was still trying to decide in what order to do these things when Molly's phone rang.

She stood and walked over to where her phone was on the charger, and picked it up.

"Hello?" A moment later he heard, "Oh, hello, Mike. How are things at the hospital?"

Sherlock listened to her side of the conversation and knew what she was going to tell him, even before she hung up.

She returned to the table. "Well, I guess I'm going back to work a bit earlier than I expected. Mike was telling me two people are out sick, so they are really understaffed. He asked if I could possibly come back earlier to work."

"And you being you, you couldn't say no."

She gave him an apprehensive look. "I hope you don't mind. I know we have a lot going on, but I feel kind of guilty for taking so much time off without notice, and I'm feeling ready to return to work."

He stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Of course I don't mind. I'd expect nothing less from a woman of integrity like you. Anyway," his mouth pulled upwards, "I have some errands to run, and I want to see John."

She looked up at him searchingly. "You're going to tell him about us being a couple now?"

"`Of course I am. He's my best friend and," here he gave her a meaningful look, "hopefully my best man."

She giggled at that. "You're getting ahead of yourself again, Sherlock."

"Oh, I guarantee that I'm not getting too far ahead of myself." He bent down to kiss her cheek. "So, why don't We take a taxi together to the hospital, and then I'll continue on to John's, if he's available, that is. Need to check that first." He paused for a moment, then said, "Once you're finished with work, we could go to the Chinese place down the street from Baker Street and have dinner, then we can speak to Mrs. Hudson."

She looked thoughtful. "I suppose that could work. Are you going to pack up your stuff and your violin, to take them with you?"

He frowned slightly. He hadn't thought of that. "Now that you mention it, I suppose I should take my things back to Baker Street as soon as possible. I'll get my packing done while you're getting dressed, and I'll drop my stuff off. But first, I had better see what is happening with John." He removed his hand from Molly's shoulder to take his phone out of his trouser pocket.

Molly took their plates to the sink while Sherlock placed a call to his friend.

"Hi, Sherlock. What's up?."

"John, I have further developments between Molly and myself to tell you about. Are you working today? I'd like you to come with me for an important errand, if possible."

John responded with a teasing, "No 'come if convenient; if inconvenient, come anyway' demand? I'm shocked."

Sherlock pursed his lips. John hadn't even said whether he was available.

"I need your help with something. Like I asked, are you available?"

"As it happens, I decided to take the day off to spend time with Rosie. What do you need my help for?"

Sherlock looked surreptitiously over at Molly, who was heading back towards him. She passed him by on the way to her bedroom, and he waited until the door closed before he responded, keeping his voice lowered.

"Tell you when I see you. Give me about an hour and a half. I'll be in touch when I'm on my way to your place."

He could hear the curiosity in John's voice as he responded. "I'm intrigued. I'll wait to hear from you."

"Thanks, I'll text you shortly." Satisfied, Sherlock returned his phone to his pocket.

Molly was still in her bedroom, so he took the opportunity to use the loo and brush his teeth, then put together his shaving supplies and other bathroom paraphernalia. He took them with him and set them onto the coffee table until he could have access to Molly's bedroom and his suitcase again.

While Molly did the rest of her own morning routine to get ready for work, Sherlock hastily packed up the belongings he'd brought over, and he retrieved his violin, setting the bag containing it and his suitcase next to the door.

Molly came out of the bathroom and collected her handbag. "Alright, I'm ready to go."

"Me too. Just need to do one thing."

"Brush your teeth?" she guessed.

He grinned. "I took care of that before you finished getting dressed. No, this."

He took her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly, leaving them both a little breathless.

"Oh, that," she said, looking flushed.

He smirked. "I hadn't yet kissed you this morning. I wanted to make the experience memorable for both of us." Even as he said the words, he thought he probably should have been a little less enthusiastic. His body was also giving an uncomfortably enthusiastic response to the kiss. Thank God he was already wearing his coat. He made a mental note not to kiss Molly passionately whenever they were heading out. For that matter, he probably shouldn't kiss her passionately when they were staying in either. It might be too much of a temptation. Help me, God, he sent up a quick prayer. He was going to need all the help he could get to resist the allure of Molly. It was much worse than the allure of drugs. Definitely a reason to get her to the altar as soon as possible.

Fortunately, Molly didn't seem aware of his conflicting emotions. She opened the door and waited for him to exit before closing and locking it.

A twenty minute taxi ride later, Sherlock gave Molly a brief kiss goodbye. "See you at six, love," he told her as she stepped out of the taxi.

"See you then," she responded, waved, and headed for the hospital entrance.

"Where to now, sir?" asked the taxi driver, turning to look at him.

"221B Baker Street," he replied.

Author's note: So at last, Sherlock has come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. Again, I am sorry to my faithful readers for making you wait so long for this. There are still several chapters to go. You know how I love my happy endings.

It was in writing this chapter where I really reflected upon how Saul's conversion, from persecutor of Christians to arguably the most important author of the New Testament, is so critical to reinforcing the truth of the Bible.

Thanks for sticking with me, dear readers. I appreciate your continued support of my work and hope to hear from you.