Well, this has been quite a pain! I cranked out another chapter yesterday less than 24 hrs after uploading chapter 5...but then I couldn't upload it no matter how I tried! There's some kind of issue with the document manager right now. Saw a suggestion on another site and I did it. Had to delete the first chapter of my Unexpected Deductions story and paste this new chapter. Then I could post a new chapter without having to create a new document. Hope it works like I think it will! Oh, and hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Honestly, I like this one best so far. ;)

-Bart's hospital 2010-

Molly walked into the lab and jumped as she flipped the lights on. There stood Sherlock leaning on the lab table with his hands positioned under his chin in the typical way.

"Good Lord, Sherlock, you scared me. You could have turned the lights on at least."

"No need," he replied evenly, not even opening his eyes. "I'm thinking."

"I can see that, yes," she mumbled as she set her things down. "Working on a case?"

"Mmm."

"John busy?"

"With some woman from a coffee shop we went to. Waste of time," he said in a tone of boredom.

"Doubt he thinks so."

Suddenly Sherlock let out a sort of growl, making Molly whirl around to look at him again. He let his arms swing down by his sides and made a face of frustration. He sighed and stalked around the lab before speaking again.

"Can't figure this one out. I'm going to have to delete something! Too much useless information!"

Molly looked down at her hands, chewing her lip. "Don't delete anything important by accident," she said meekly.

"Important?!" he spat out indignantly. "I don't delete important things!"

Molly nodded and looked over at him only briefly. "Well, I just thought, you know...maybe you do delete things that matter sometimes, just to make room for other things. Like perhaps you delete...older things, to replace them with newer things."

He didn't seem to acknowledge this comment as he clearly began thinking again. She couldn't help but feel like it was obvious he'd deleted their history from his mind. Of course he knew who she was and how they'd known each other. But he certainly didn't act like it, and he didn't talk about it...any of it. She could very easily imagine him deciding that those months weren't important or useful enough to take up space in that palace of his anymore. What could he use it for really? There was no value to it anymore, not in his eyes at least.

"Ah! That's it! Of course! I knew it would all make sense eventually," he suddenly exclaimed as he began to rewrap his scarf around his neck and make for the door to the lab.

"Off again then?" she asked quietly.

"I am indeed. Be back later though I believe. Experiments to check on after I wrap up this case."

"See you then-"

But he was already out the door and walking down the hall, leaving Molly to work alone. Alone with her lovely memories that she was afraid only she bothered to keep alive.

-Oxford University 2002-

The next few weeks carried on almost the same as before. Molly was in classes almost full time and studying very hard. Her head was often reeling from the overload of information and memorization. She'd been warned that this was the lot of a first and even second year medical student. But now she was living it, and it was indeed taking quite a toll.

The dynamic had changed a bit with Sherlock. Though she'd initially felt that she'd made a huge mistake in her "making a move" on him, it had turned out to be somewhat the opposite. It seemed to ease them past some discomfort. Molly's feelings were far from platonic, if she was honest with herself. And Sherlock wanted a mostly business relationship. But they were both well aware of what the other wanted and expected. There was no mystery. Molly felt at ease now to inflict trivial activities on Sherlock from time to time. He was certainly comfortable enough to ask her for numerous things he wanted to use in personal experiments, so it was a trade off. Molly would occasionally insist he come with her to a lecture that didn't interest him much. (One was on the solar system, and he sat complaining about how useless the information was the entire time. "deleting this, and deleting that too, oh I'm just going to delete this entire hour!") Or she would enlist him in helping her cook something in the kitchen. (This presented difficulties, as Sherlock was constantly trying to veer from recipes to see what sort or "reaction" could be created by combining strange things.) One time she even made him fold laundry with her because it was what she happen to need to be doing at that moment. He helped a little, but mostly just talked and talked about a small case that a teacher had asked for help on. Apparently some students had been cheating and he needed to find out who the instigator was.

Sherlock would never admit that he was enjoying this friendship that had developed. He simply fell into a pattern, a pattern that involved this small young woman who seemed to fit strangely well into many areas of his life. She didn't really change much. She was simply a presence, where there hadn't been one before. He began to expect her more than ask for her to be around. They would wander into each other's rooms at random times and ask for a small favor. Sherlock would often just invade Molly's space for the purpose of talking at her. He needed no help to think, but he would readily admit that it was helpful at times to think out loud. He could do that on his own, but he preferred to have some sort of audience, even it it wasn't a particularly interested one. He would often come to the conclusion of a problem simply by reclining on her tiny bed and talking as she shuffled around the room or sat on the floor studying.

Molly felt difficulty sometimes in balancing her friendship with Sherlock and with the other group of students she got along with. Sherlock had zero desire to enjoy the typical group activities that they were interested in. And none of them were too excited about spending time with Sherlock. So usually she'd spend time with either Sherlock or her other friends. She was pretty sure that things could get ugly if she ever convinced him to tag along. She could only imagine the things that could come out of his mouth as he looked each unsuspecting person up and down and proceeded to detail all sorts of insulting and embarrassing information about them. And she'd be the one to face the consequences as well.

She already had to face the jokes and questions about him from others. It became obvious that she had managed to make friends with one of the only students who didn't make friends. He was so unusual that it was difficult for people to imagine why she wanted to spend more than the necessary amount of time in his presence. But for Molly, she couldn't understand why there weren't more people drawn to him like she was. She was very sure that one day, the world would know and love Sherlock Holmes the way that she was getting to. She hoped she'd be there to see it happen.

The first semester was rapidly coming to a close and that meant plenty of exams looming ahead of Molly. She was trying her best to remain relaxed and trust herself that she'd do fine. She was a good student and she was smart and she was driven...at least that's what she made a point of repeating to herself regularly. It drove her a little crazy that Sherlock never seemed phased by exams. In fact, she began to register the fact that she never saw him with a book of any kind outside of the class rooms.

One night Molly was feeling particularly stressed in the process of studying for an anatomy exam that was happening the next day. She didn't want to study alone. She was tired of talking to herself out loud. She knew her other friends were studying together, and she didn't want to be involved in that. A big group did nothing to help her concentrate. Molly grabbed her armful of study material and marched down to the first floor of her building and used her foot to knock on Sherlock's door.

The door flung open to reveal Sherlock standing in his sweats and tee shirt and giving her a questioning glare.

"Er, can I help you, Molly?"

"Yes you can, please. I need to study. You need to quiz me, or listen to me, or something...can I come in?" she asked peering out from the pile in her arms.

Sherlock answered by stepping to the side and sweeping his arm in the direction of his room.

"This will work fine since I happen to be studying as well," he said calmly as he lay back on his little bed.

"Oh marvelous! Ok, let me just get things set up here." Molly sat on the floor since there wasn't nearly enough space for all her materials on his sorry excuse for a table. She handed him a sheet of paper.

"There. Now I'm going to recite the list to you and you can just tell me when I miss something."

"Fine."

Molly began speaking and every couple of moments Sherlock would interject with a "nope" or a "missed one" and Molly began to get discouraged.

"Ok, fine! Just give it back! Never mind, I wont do this one yet. Back to the books first. I'll try again in a bit." Molly sighed loudly and began paging through a textbook.

The silence went on for quite a while as Molly read and read. The words began blending together on the page and in her head, and after about a half hour she closed the book with a thump and closed her eyes as well. She rolled her head around, trying to loosen the tightness that had developed in her neck as she had been bent over for so long. How appropriate, she thought, as she was studying the muscular systems of the human body! Then she looked over at Sherlock's bed.

There he lay, not moving a muscle. His eyes were closed, and at first Molly thought he was sleeping, but clearly not. His hands were pressed together with the tips of his fingers resting perfectly underneath his chin. What in the?...

"What?" he suddenly said, making Molly jump.

"I didn't say anything."

"You stopped studying and you're staring at me." He opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at her. "What is it?"

"Wow...um, I was just wondering what you're doing. I thought you had said you were studying too."

"And I am," he said simply, returning his gaze upward and closing his eyes again.

Molly looked back and forth confusedly. "B-but you don't even have any books. And you're not making any notes. What are you studying?"

"It's all up here," he said tapping his temple.

"Oh...well then why do you even need to study?"

Sherlock sighed, sounding exasperated now. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, now looking down at her.

"It may be in my head, but I have to organize it. I have to catalogue it so that when I'm sitting there taking an exam, I can easily locate it and use it...I thought I explained this to you already."

"Well, you said you do that. But I didn't know you could do it with anything. Even all this crazy information!" and she gestured to the books around her lap. "That's such a wonderful gift. I wish I could do that," she said wistfully.

Sherlock slipped from his place on the bed, next to her down on the floor. "Don't be silly, anyone can do what I do. It's a capability of the brain, you just have to harness it and use it. I may do it more unconsciously than other people, but it's possibly for almost anyone."

"I'd love to think that was true," she said quietly, not sounding terribly convinced.

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, then he began shoving most of the books aside. He picked up the sheet of the vast list of muscles Molly would be tested on.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Molly, I want you to close your eyes."

"W-why?"

"Just trust me. Turn this way so you're facing me, that's it. Now close your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice. I'm going to read you the list of muscles according to each area of the body. Now...I want you to create a room in your mind."

Her eyes shot open again and she frowned at him. "Wait, what? I thought we were going over muscles. Why am I making a room?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He set the paper down over his crossed legs and reached out, placing his palms on each side of her face. Molly was pretty sure her heart stopped.

"Do try to focus. I told you to trust me Molly. I'm trying to help you. You're creating a literal space inside your memory. Rooms and buildings and spaces of any kind that can be filled with information. And any time you want, you can revisit that room or space. I have so many they can't be counted now. It's like a...palace now. But each room has a theme, and is filled with the information on that subject. You can do that for this test. And once you learn how to do it, you can keep doing it, with anything."

Her eyes darted over his face as he spoke. "Ok. I'll try it," she said softly.

"Good...now close your eyes again."

His hands slid away, leaving her face feeling cold as her eyes shut. But then he began speaking, which quickly warmed her again. He was speaking slowly and deliberately in a low voice. She wished she wasn't supposed to be focusing on studying right now...but Molly listened. She did what he instructed. She did make a room. Every time he spoke a word of phrase, it was placed there. Sometimes it was in the form of a piece of furniture, sometimes it was a picture that she hung on the wall, or a rug on the floor. The room was covered soon, floor to ceiling.

"That's it. That's the list. Now I'll ask you questions and you can go back there and find the answers."

"Oh God, moment of truth," she murmured, and took a breath.

But it worked, much to her delight. She had spent enough time in that room already while building it, that it wasn't much of a task for her to climb right back in and find all the things she'd just placed there. Every time she had a difficult time finding something, Sherlock would say "what did you make it look like?" and she'd remember. It was nothing short of amazing.

Her eyes shot opened, and a grin spread on her face. He smiled back in a satisfied sort of way as if to say, I told you so.

"I could kiss you right now," she said, and meant it.

The smile on Sherlock's face dissolved and turned to a look of mild fear as his eyes widened.

She smiled again. "Just kidding." Not really though. She really could have. Between his holding her face like that, and the sound of his voice, and the fact that he'd just made her life about a million times easier...she could easily have jumped right on top of him.

"That was incredible though. I'll use that over and over, I just know it. You're the best." She did the only thing she felt she'd be allowed. She reached over to where his hand rested on his knee, and gave it a brief squeeze.

He looked a little...embarrassed? Maybe even nervous, as she let go of his hand and replaced the distance between them again.

"Well, it's nothing. As I said, it's your own brain's ability. You just had to know how to use it." He got up from where he sat, placed his hands on his hips, and looked around the room for a moment rather pointlessly.

"It's important to stay focused on that room right now though. Especially since it's a new method for you. You shouldn't keep talking. Here, why don't you lie there." He gestured for her to get on the bed that was now empty against the wall.

"But, don't you want to-" She got up, but hesitated at first to actually lie on the bed.

"No, no. I was done anyway...good, just stay still. Lie back and close your eyes. I won't talk. Just stay in the room you made and walk around like you're in a museum. Don't think about anything else but what's in there. Don't stop till you know it absolutely by heart. So that you can picture it all even without closing your eyes."

"Then what?" she asked, opening her eyes momentarily, to look at him as he sat in the small chair by his table.

"Then you can put the kettle on. Because I think you owe me a cup of tea." He ginned in the most beautiful way.

The grin spread on her own face as she turned her head back toward the ceiling and then shut her eyes. And then she did spend lots more time in this room she'd created so carefully. It was beautiful really, all the facts and words that had seemed so dull on paper. What she'd never tell Sherlock though, was that every word and fact was heard as well as seen by her while she traveled through that room. It was heard in his voice. And he was there too, in that room. He was everywhere, walking with her, watching her silently...

...And he was watching her. Sherlock sat for over an hour, watching her lay peacefully on his bed and traverse through her own memory. He was struck by the fact that this was something he'd done countless times, and yet had never seen anyone else do. Her eyes darted occasionally, like she was in the midst of rem sleep, and her lips moved a bit sometimes, in and out of her mouth. Her fingers ran along the lines of the blanket's edge. Her breathing was steady and relaxed. He wondered if this was how it looked to other people when he was in his own mind palace. Somehow he doubted it.

This was surely more beautiful.

-Bart's Hospital 2010-

Hours later Sherlock had come back and silently worked in the lab on his own projects. Molly was there, but there was no real interchange happening between them. She was busily completing pathology reports and was later cleaning up.

She wondered how she'd managed to so quickly fall back into the give aspect of their relationship. There used to be a give and take between them. Now it was rather one sided. She gave, and he took. Simple really. Simple and maddening. Especially when she considered the fact that he'd very genuinely given her so much years ago.

She had become lost in thought for a while, and hardly realized when Sherlock had finished what he was doing and was again putting his coat on and getting ready to leave. She realized he was heading out eventually, but couldn't muster the energy to utter a goodbye at that moment. She expected to hear the opening and closing of the door, but she only heard it open.

"To answer your question," came the slow baritone, "no, I didn't."

"What?" her head shot up. "I-I didn't ask you anything."

"Yes you did...before," he said, in a softer tone than she was now used to hearing. Then he spoke again, after a moment's pause.

"Years ago...I didn't delete it." He was still looking down, pulling his gloves on his hands.

Her mouth opened as if to say something, but she couldn't find any words to push out, so she closed it again. She just stared at him from across the room, her face began to feel hot.

"I didn't delete any of it," he said again, more clearly, then looked up at her briefly.

She offered a tight smile. Not because she wasn't happy, but because she felt a lump actually threatening in her throat. She nodded in understanding. Because words seemed impossible at the moment, as well as unnecessary. He nodded as well, just once, and then he let the door swing closed as he left the lab.

It was the first time she'd seen him again. Not Sherlock the chemist, or the genius, or the brilliant detective...but Sherlock, who had been her friend.