"He has mentioned it briefly, but you are usually around when he says he needs to go into it, and so he feels no need to explain to me."
John and King Gregory both smirked at that, knowing Sherlock definitely had respect for the King, but did not treat him as high and mighty on a pedestal as others did; he did admire him though, as much as he would not admit.
"His mind palace is a place where all of his thoughts are organized so he is better equipped when trying to find people you request, or figure out when something is wrong. It helps; it's like a file cabinet for clues," he explained.
The King nodded in understanding, waiting for John to continue.
"It isn't only for… cases, if you will," he chose the word. "It's for everything else too. Sherlock has taken almost every memory of Molly and put it behind a locked door in his mind palace. It is the only thing that keeps him from going mad. Or I assume that's why."
King Gregory looked at him more seriously now. "So he has lost her then?"
He nodded grimly. "It has taken me years to figure all of this out; like I've said, Sherlock is not usually willing to talk about it. But, in a way, he has lost her; rather, she was taken from him, and he has been cursed."
A concerned expression clouded the King's face, his brows furrowing as he wondered why he had never found out any of this, knowing now how dire a matter it is.
"Do you remember the last dark priestess?"
"She has not been seen for over a hundred years," the King pointed out.
"I know," John said, letting out another sigh. "The last thing that she did was curse him, and kill Molly. The reason that Sherlock is so reckless is because he can't die."
"What?" King Gregory seemed to get impatient for only a second, not understanding.
"You know the village to the east, not far from here?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"That is where Sherlock and Molly lived. Molly acted as a natural healer for the village. One day, there was a young boy who she was trying to help, but out of her control, he ended up dying. He was the son of that dark priestess."
The King could hear the sympathy in John's voice as he continued, looking down at his hands now. "It was the priestess' fault; she tried to use dark magic and interfered with Molly's healing, killing her son. Sherlock had been off into the woods, trying to find the herbs at Molly's request, so the priestess blamed the both of them for the death of her son. In a rage, she killed Molly, and then set her curse upon Sherlock."
John stopped for only a moment, allowing the King to catch up. Gregory took a deep breath, nodding his head for John to continue. "The priestess told Sherlock that he would be destined to live forever. To see those he cared for come and go, and be stuck with his inability to escape to the other world. Molly was destined to reincarnate, but unless he could find her, and unless the curse was broken could they live on."
It was only a few seconds before Gregory stood up. "Why would we not seek Molly out then? Sherlock must know where she would be? He's good at figuring these things out."
John shook his head though, a sad look on his face. It was the most personal thing Sherlock had ever shared with him, and he felt the deepest sympathy for him when he understood why Sherlock is the way that he is. "I asked him that when I finally found this out, but Sherlock has given up.
"He says that they can be reincarnated into anyone. Sometimes they may not look exactly as they were; he doesn't know where she would be either. He says it's not logically possible to find her, and he's too afraid to give that a chance. It's been one hundred years and he believes he will not find her."
The King deflated at this, falling back into his seat. He always found Sherlock to be a calculating, pompous arse, but he could not help but feel empathy for the man that had still been loyal to him.
"Irene has been to visit him lately; I don't know what it was about, I tried asking, but I know she taunted him about Molly."
Gregory gave a sad smile at this, looking to the ground as he thought of his wife he had not seen in so long. He only wished to have her back at the fort. He knew if he gave her another chance, she would not fail.
Molly paced back and forth, her arms crossed against her chest. She did not understand why this was such a big deal. He was just a huntsman, a human; someone that was going after her. So why could she not get the image of him out of her mind? Why did her heart pump twice as fast when she remembered him? None of it made any sense. It was going to make her insane.
It had been two days since she returned with the medical supplies. She had focused her mind on helping those that were ill, but whenever she had a second to think, his face popped into her mind; it was like it was burned into her eyes, the image of him.
Molly knew that she would not forget how he looked now, and she was aware that it would help her to know who would be looking for her if she needed to return for medical supplies. The problem was that it was not a fear of getting caught by him; that had nothing to do with why she kept thinking of him. She was going to have to return and see if he was there. She knew it was dangerous, and she didn't know why she felt so inclined to be near him again, but something told her that she had to.