Chapter Six:

"Alright then, I have a mind palace."

Molly stood gazing out the window of her white room, as the idea churned around in her mind. She had never thought it possible to have her own mind palace. That was Sherlock's thing; not hers. However, the more she considered it, the more she realized just how possible this was. Ever since she was a little girl, she thoroughly enjoyed making up little stories in her mind or even just letting it wander mindlessly. It was why reading was such a delight to her. There was nothing like taking a journey into another person's world; one they created all in their mind.

"All those stories and memories must have created this place." She whispered to herself. "There is no other explanation."

If this was indeed her very own mind palace, then she really had nothing to fear. Sherlock had talked about adding and deleting information from his mind palace. It stood to reason that she could do the same thing. As she began to contemplate all the possibilities, she was startled by a figure sitting in the room just outside her door.

He looked to be a tall figure, though he was seated in one of her high-backed chairs. The chair was positioned toward the window, so she couldn't make out his face. In fact, Molly could not see much in the way of his upper body. However, she was able to see that he wore black trousers and quite expensive looking shoes.

Just then, the figure shifted in his seat and her heart dropped. His arm had come to rest gently on the side of the chair, and she was now able to see part of his shirt.

It was a beautiful, deep purple.

"Oh my goodness, it can't be," She whispered, bringing her left hand over her mouth. "It just can't be him."

More surprise began to make it's way into Molly's heart as the man stood up, and turned toward her. His face was one of amusement as her eyes widened, and she whispered his name.

"Sherlock..."

He smirked slightly. "Come now, Molly, you should not be so surprised to see me."

She opened her mouth to speak, but found herself at a loss for words. He was right. Being surprised to see Sherlock was quite silly, considering her crush on him. He had, more than once, popped into her mind and she allowed him to stay there. And many times, the only reason he left was because something jostled her back into reality. Now, as she stood on the other side of the door, she realized that this was her reality.

"Sherlock, how do I get out of here?" She asked, confidence building in her heart. This was iher/i mind palace, and she was going to make sure he knew it.

He took a couple more steps toward the door, letting his hands slide neatly into his pockets. "You tell me, Molly Hooper."

Frustration began to seep into the corners of her mind. All she wanted to do was get out here, and he was going to play that game. The game where she fell all over herself, in awe of every part of him. That knowing smile, those gorgeous black curls, his deep baritone voice. Molly shook her head, forcing those thoughts from her mind. In the real world, she was mousy Molly Hooper. Here, she was brave; she was strong.

"Well," She said taking a step away from the door and raising her voice slightly, so he could hear her. "There is no doorknob, so it looks like going out that way isn't going to work." Her eyes scanned every corner of the room, looking for a possible escape. At first, she noticed nothing. However, just when she was about to give up her search, she saw it.

A small ventilation opening, closed off by a silver grate.

"There," She yelled. "There is a small ventilation opening just behind the bed!"

A small smile played on Sherlock's lips, though Molly never saw it. "Very good, Doctor. How, exactly, do you plan to make your way through that space though? It's small and closed off."

Disappointment crowded out the triumph she felt. "Oh. Right."

Sherlock was right, of course. First of all, she needed to find a way to remove the grate, and it looked like it was pretty well sealed. Secondly, even if she could remove the grate, how in the world would she fit through such a small space. Going through the ventilation system was out of the question, so she began to think of other options. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Molly brought her hand to her chin, and pondered. As she thought of possibilities, one surprising options flashed through her mind.

"Sherlock," She said standing up and coming straight to the window. "Is there a doorknob on the other side of this door?"

His brow furrowed slightly. "Yes, but you know I won't open up the door for you, so why does that matter?"

A smile spread across her face. "Good; I was hoping you would say that. You might want to stand back."

Molly laughed once as Sherlock's face became bewildered, and she turned away abruptly, looking over at the lamp standing next to her bed. Walking quickly over to it, she pulled the plug out and wrapped it neatly around the neck of the lamp. The lamp was made of a sturdy material, that Molly hoped was metal. She picked it up, not realizing how heavy it was, and braced herself. Then, with as much strength as she could muster, Molly ran full force toward the door. She caught a glimpse of Sherlock's expression, which had turned from bewilderment to utter shock, as the base of the lamp crashed gracefully through the window. Glass flew toward Sherlock as he took several large steps backwards, and Molly laughed again.

"Oh, don't look so surprised, Sherlock. I've learned a thing or two being your pathologist."

The lamp was stuck in the frame of the window, and Molly quick shoved it through to the other side of the door, first removing the lampshade, so it would fit nicely. Then, with determination she never felt before, Molly pulled the bed over to the door, getting it close enough for her to stand on it. Jumping on the bed, she wrapped a sheet around her hand and removed any excess glass in the window. Then, carefully, she leaned out the window and reached for the doorknob. It took her a few tries, but on her fourth attempt, she was able to successfully reach the knob to turn it. She heard a soft click, which didn't make sense to her, considering there was no knob on her side of the door. It didn't matter though, because the door opened slowly. Molly jumped off the bed and grinned with pride at Sherlock, who was now trying to stifle a smile.

She ran her hands over her hospital gown, straightening it slightly. "Now then, Mr. Holmes, since we have all that business settled. Let's figure out how to get me out of my mind palace."