Nothing I can do will make you believe. You are bound by your five senses, and by your body, and even if I were to reach inside you and touch your very soul you could create a rationalization. I could smite you where you stand and you would simply proclaim irrational weather patterns. I could your own father back the dead and you would have an excuse. I could fly us across the universe and you would simply explain it a hallucination.

[He sighs heavily and looks at Sherlock before turning away, his shoulders slumping in defeat.]

You would not love your Father even if you believed. You would believe only because you were forced too. That is not how the Lord desires his faithful children. Be doomed to limbo if you so desire.