• *in a cab; on the way to the christening*
  • Molly: *happily* Oh isn't this exciting? I bet she looks lovely. And John and Mary are wonderful parents...
  • Sherlock: *on his phone* Mmm.
  • Molly: *sighs* Oh, her name is just beautiful *giggles* I always wanted to name my daughter Persephone.
  • Sherlock: *glances at her*
  • Molly: *rolls her eyes* Hey, I was eleven at the time and really into all that mythology stuff.
  • Sherlock: *still typing* There are worse names for a child than Persephone Holmes.
  • Molly: ...
  • Molly: *raises an eyebrow* Why would it be Holmes?
  • Sherlock: *shrugs* I always assumed you'd take your husband's name.
  • Molly: *scoffs* Yeah, well, I'm not going to marry Mycroft!
  • Sherlock: *confused* We've been sleeping together and you think-
  • Molly: *giggles* No, I mean, I just thought you weren't the marrying kind.
  • Sherlock: *sighs* Sex, Molly. I don't do that with just anyone.
  • Molly: *raises an eyebrow* You love me?
  • Sherlock: Obviously.
  • Molly: *smirks* I'm sorry? I didn't catch that.
  • Sherlock: *smiles* I love you.
  • Molly: *takes his hand* I love you too.
  • Sherlock: *coughs* So you'll...marry me, then?
  • Molly: *kisses his cheek* Of course I will.


No sun and moon move up high
in the same shade of luscious red,
sky like the inside of the fruit you fed me.
I did not protest.

You never cut me away from virgin ground.
I guess you might say
it was an accidental joining
of discrete purposes.
My screams were misinterpreted:
I will not, I will not
I will not tell on you.

This is Hades.
Count out the seeds.


I hear your name. I turn. By your gaze
I am consumed.


Despite humid darkness
your scent makes me think
I am still in the meadow.
Your black poppies close
over my face
I smile drowsily:

your heat though reflective
makes me briefly believe
you have fingers to touch me.


You speak in the voice
of an angel fallen too often.
You speak in the words
of one who has died and risen
not often enough
to his liking.


You turn away.


I am feverish. I am cold.
I need to be where you are.


Whenever I see you I want to fall
to the floor and lie there,
sleep there, or die there.
I want you to tie my wrists above my head
and let me lapse into darkness
beyond light’s absence.


I follow, and swallow,
and I forget to rise.

Persephone has two natures… She is of course the Kore, the maiden daughter of Demeter, a young girl on the meadow gathering flowers. But after her abduction, she is the Queen of the Dead, Lady of Night and Shadows. The two must be seen as transformations of each other. The young girl’s beauty is not lost in the underworld queen, and a certain echo of her innocence reverberates in her ghastly aura. She too, like the dead, has been whisked away from the happiness that is life itself.
—  Persephone Unveiled: Seeing the Goddess and Freeing your Soul