Mary entered the main quarters slowly the next morning. She felt light headed. What was she supposed to do with the intimate knowledge Sherlock Homes had given her? Was it even fair to ask him to do what she had come for? And, truthfully, what had she expected of this time? Did she really need to be made love to by anyone besides her husband?

Holmes was reading, but instantly laid the book aside as she entered, and stood up. He was still quite nervous, but less so now, having voiced his darkest secret. He had managed to create a simple breakfast, which he had on the table. A smile came to Mary's eyes, knowing the trouble Holmes had gone through.

"Good morning," Mary said quietly. Had she imagined the feeling when he had taken her hand last night?

"I did not know what you might like," he said, pulling her seat back for her.

"Thank you. This looks lovely."

He almost felt sick with nervousness, now. "I thought I might explain…."

"Only if you want to, Sherlock," she said softly.

Those nerves forced him from his chair and to the mantle. He felt out-of-his-skin, not in control. "I…" he began. He found himself breathing hard, working to broach a subject he had never spoken with anyone before.

"You may find strange that I…lack the, ahem, experience….usually associated with someone of my age." His eyes bored into hers, and willed her to understand.

She approached him slowly. If one could drown looking into the soul of another, she would be doing so now. Putting all the small pieces together that she was sure even John had never guessed or even dreamed of, she knew. Sherlock Holmes was a virgin! She did not count his mother. That was an aberration, not what God intended.

She put her hand up to his face, and watched his eyes flutter close. She breathed in and out, looking for the right words. "Then it is as it was meant to be. John and I are for you, and you are for us. I do not know why it is so, but I believe it now. God meant this to be."

He felt her hand on his face. He had never allowed a woman this close. He could think no more. His mind frozen, his body took over.

He felt himself bending down smelled her hair, her cheek soft against his. He felt her body tense, unsure. This was different than the vivid, tortured memories of his mother so many years ago. She had used him. Mary had needs, but she was just as scared as he was.