Because It's True

Chapter III: Queen Of The Mind Palace

"The Forgotten."

It rang in his ears, like a whisper in the wind. Her shocking, uncontrolled voice lingers loosely in his mind. As much as Sherlock tries to see what he was obviously missing, he can not. He has no clue where to start. He is lost. But he can't afford to be; he doesn't hold that luxury. Now two lives hang in the balance and it was Sherlock job to find them. Although his mind is only set on one life, he forces himself to stay clear from that part of his mind palace. The part only his Molly could control; without her presence, he doesn't dare touch it.

With his long bony figures outstretched between his chin, John knows not to mess with him. John too is at a loss in
thought. How could something so simple like two little words be so difficult to register, he may never know. Relaxing in the chair across from Sherlock, the babysitter finally showed up to pick up Rosie. John knew this case could take all night and he didn't want his daughter distracting him. He had a friend to find and another one to help. In an instant, Mrs. Hudson's lucky heels hit against the wooden staircase again and the aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the air. The sent makes John smile, thanking the lovely women for the hot beverage.

"Thank you, Mrs. H," John said for both himself and Sherlock.

"It's my pleasure, dear," the old women smiled and then eyed Sherlock, "how's it going?"

John turned, following Mrs. Hudson's gaze. She too is worried about Sherlock's mental state. Ever since the night began Sherlock had been picked and prodded; tested and experimented on like a lab right. They all have been tested, but it was Sherlock that got the most of it. The weeks following Mary's death each one of them walked the stone path hiding their demons underneath. Of course, John had his little monsters following him, but Sherlock had much more. He had ghosts; scary open wounds that were now filled with salt and still yet to be healed, but John knew that the only thing that could help Sherlock's wounds was now lost to his greatest enemy. John couldn't help but pity his friend, for that is a fate worst then death.

"Not so good," John said, taking the first sip of his tea.

"The forgotten," Sherlock mumbles, leaving both John and Mrs. Hudson shocked; it's the first time had spoken since the phone call.

Sherlock never talks when he is in his mind palace, but something washes over him and he doesn't like the feeling. It's a feeling of complete defeat and his body falls deeper into his chair and deeper into his mind. Imagines float behind his eyes and the dark riddle ran through his head. He tries the dissect it like he would for any other regular case, but this was different. This was Molly. He searched deeper into his mind coming to a door he still refused to open. The brightly painted yellow door faces him behind his eyelids. The door is labeled 'Molly',' but Sherlock only dares to touch the surface of it. Behind it held all his memories of her; every miss spoken word; every blush; every change of her hair; it was all behind her favorite colored door. It made him smile a little as he heard her laugh echo in his mind. It teased him to step through, but he has never entered the room without her by his side. Without her true form to bring him back to reality he could stay in her part of his palace for weeks. He would be completely powerless.

"What's he on about," Mrs. Hudson asked, turning to John again.

"That's the only thing Molly said," John answers, with a grim smile. "The Forgotten."

"That old wives tale?"

Suddenly, Sherlock's eye flutters open to the sound of the women's weary voice. He eyed Mrs. Hudson like she's a new piece of meat and he had been starving for days. But before he could pronounce on her, John steps between them.

"You know the words," John asked, looking even more confused.

"You don't," Mrs. Hudson replies, looking between the two odd stricken boys.