"Molly, will you just listen please! I know this is difficult, and believe me I understand how you are feeling but…"
On and on she yammered, talking about how her memory would return with time, how she should begin keeping a journal about everything she can remember from her past. Molly believes this is not going to help her. She understands that people are beginning to worry, but they don't get it. She can take information perfectly fine, but most of her past over at least the last 10 years has been erased. This ridiculous woman, this "THERAPIST" doesn't understand, insufferable woman as well, far too invested in her own ends. Molly pauses, taking a break from her internal rant, and realises that she sounds an awful lot like someone she knows, knew, forgot, whatever…but whom?
Sherlock was sitting cross legged on the couch, praying position was procured and his eyes were closed, hiding the violent stream of stormy emotions bubbling below the surface. He was trying to locate a file, his Mind Palace always had a back up room for deleted items, but it was becoming difficult to track the information he really needed.
He definitely needed this file, he had realised that he had made a grave error of judgement regarding the deletion of a certain young woman's room and he badly wanted to rectify it. Hastening in speed, he found the very file he required, a large box file brimming with small bits of information. Slowly he mentally trudged into the centre of his mind and created a doorway, depositing the file in the middle. He began organising the various bits of information into their different areas; pleased when he finally reconstructed the stained glass window which lit up the room. He was beaming by the time he had finished, vowing never to forget Molly Hooper again, for she counted far more than even Sherlock himself knew.
Molly turned over, ignoring the still constant stream of words spewing forth from the other woman's mouth. She was pleased when another nurse entered and stated that her unceremonious visitors had arrived, toddling off with some backhand comment about proper visiting times. Turning back to the doorway Molly waited for the now almost familiar faces to enter, instead only one appeared,
"I am truly sorry Molly, I never wished to harm your feelings or purposefully endanger you, I have personally failed in my duty as a gentleman to protect you from harm, and for that Molly I am truly bereft. Molly Hooper, it was a grave mistake to delete you from my mind and I want you to know that your room has been installed once more. I don't think I ever want to experience the loss of your light again."
Any one else close to the mighty Sherlock Holmes would have been physically shocked to hear even a basic comment or gesture of gratitude, let alone a speech deploring himself for his own actions. Had Molly known who this crazy man was she might have reacted slightly differently, but as it stood Molly Hooper didn't know anything about him, and so her reaction varied somewhat from what the detective had expected.
"I don't know who you are, but I want you out of my room right now, I don't even know how you got in here in the first place, and I don't want to."
"But Molly, I truly am sorry…"
"I don't care how sorry you are, whatever your name is, I just want you out!"
"It's Sherlock..."
"What?"
"My name, it's Sherlock."
Finally Molly had had enough, "Right well, Sherlock, get out of my room, I don't need people I don't know confusing me even more…"
And with that Molly Hooper turned away from the crestfallen detective, who hadn't even considered that Molly Hooper may have also accidentally, deleted him.