CHAPTER 3
Thanks for the kind words everyone. They do mean a lot to me and here we go again. Keep all hands inside the cart and enjoy your ride.
Sherlock watched Molly leave. An amused (at least for him) glint in his eye noted the horrible choice of sleep wear Molly was sporting fuzzy flannel Eeyore pj bottoms and oversized uni t shirt. Has she no fashion sense? Or was her self esteem so low that she was in the realm of why bother. She really did look amazing if she put forth an effort. Glad for just a mundane distraction he tried to figure out what out fabric and outfit combo would look great on Molly. Like a giant fashion plate in his mind he tried cottons silks velvets in combos of shirts, pants, skits and shoes. At the end he could see her in a crisp Egyptian cotton button down with a black pin stripped shirt and knee high leather boots. Her hair would be down or at least pulled to the side(both looks suited her) and she would be wearing minimal makeup. Thinking he had finished putting a new look for her together he smiled. Then his mind added the finishing touches without his conscious thought. Wire rimmed glasses appeared on her face accenting her eyes and a black pin stripped neck tie was hanging loose from the button down.
With a gasp Sherlock pulled himself from the vision of Molly
Hooper dressed so so sexy.
Disturbed by this thoughts. He started to pace the confines of the small apartment. Where had that come from? He had never thought of her that way before. (he really never thought of anyone that way before). He thought well I'll just delete it and that would take care of that but it wouldn't be deleted. He could delete his knowledge of how the solar system worked but could not delete the image of his pathologist dressed in what he would dress her in.
He figured just will have to hide it away then if will not be deleted. So he settled into the oversized leather chair (her favorite chair for reading based on the wear of it) and went to his mind palace to do just that.
Now everyone that Sherlock had repeat dealings with had a place in his palace (dona van and Anderson a shared shelf above the loo) and each place(room really) took on the personality of the person it represented. John's room was neat orderly in warm browns. The sofa(they all had sofas) was a copy of the one in the sitting room. On the walls like photos were memories of him and John. The palace, the first time they met, the giggle after chasing the cab all hung there to be taken down and remembered. Knowing what was to come Sherlock backed out of the room, he would be needing this room to get through what was to come.
Lestrade's room was his Yard office. Pictures dotted the walls here too but his knowledge of the inspector where all stored in the file cabinets next to the desk. Knowing everything was in order here, he moved on to the next room.
Mrs. Hudson's room was a kitchen. her Baker st kitchen to be precise. It was homey and smelled like baking biscuits. Snap shots of their friendship dotted the space, all of his knowledge of his landlady(never housekeeper) was stored in the cupboards. After sneaking a biscuit from the fridge he left the room and continued his inspection.
At the end of the hall he came to Molly's room. He hadn't really ever set foot into it before. Hand on the door handle he paused. He tended to just ignore what ever he learned about molly just throwing into the room with out much thought. Maybe that is why he couldn't delete that ideal he had about her. Opening the door he immediate closed it. Her room was in chaos. Nothing had been sorted it was all there , strewn about. It was just a gray sterile place. the photos that should have been on the wall or at least in frames peeked out from stacks of papers. Each piece of paper was something he knew about Molly but had never bothered to really look at it. He knew that he had to go in there and at least start sorting it out but apprehensive about it. He turned around and walked out of his mind palace.