Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 60
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy.
*As always thanks for reading, a special thanks to all of you who take the time to review, comment, and favorite.
Author's note:
LePetitErik, Mitaya, Ms. Chaos, and everyone who asked why Sherlock was so traumatized. Previous chapters, 46-59
A few requests will be answered in upcoming chapters.
Finally, yes some changes were made to the previous chapters. Two chapters were turned around to ensure everything was correct and flowed well, thanks for noticing. Keep the comments and PM coming, Zacha.
LoL
"Light overcomes darkness, darkness must flee even in the presence of the smallest of light." ~Zacha
Trapped in Mind Palace
Sherlock awakened from the memories to find himself trapped in his mind. His castle, once a place of retreat was now a prison.
Sherlock was in a cold dark place. He shook as he curled into a ball on the damp floor.
He was still shaking from the once deleted memories.
The darkness was ominous. Only a dim circle of light protected Sherlock from it. He briefly thought he heard a voice calling him, but the sound floated away like a leaf in the wind.
The darkness had a soul. It tormented him. Not touching but threatening him. The light, although dim, kept it away. The light always overcame the darkness. The darkness had no choice, but to retreat in its presence.
Again, in the corner just beyond the swirling darkness he heard it, the soft whimper of a child.
"Who are you?" Sherlock whispered.
With one hand, Sherlock pushed himself off the floor, his own terror put aside momentarily.
"Why are you crying?"
Sherlock stumbled to his feet. His movement was slowed by fear, but only slowed. That same stubborn determination and obstinate spirit he had since a child kept him moving.
To Sherlock, determination had always been a more strong force than fear.
He reached the edge of the darkness to where he last heard the whimper. Shaking he reached in and grappled until he touched the shaking hand of a child. The darkness touched, then tickled, finally stabbed at his hands. Still, Sherlock never let go, but pulled.
Suddenly a faint voice called out his name. It sounded soft and far away like a whisper on the wind. The darkness weakened its grip and Sherlock pulled the child out to himself, stumbling slightly.
Sherlock had a look of shock on his face.
As he looked down, Sherlock looked to find his blue gray eyes staring into the blue gray eyes of a thin, pale-skinned boy of seven who had the darkest, curliest hair.
Only now, he was no longer crying but the faintest of smiles was on his face.
The child Sherlock morphed into an adult Sherlock. Then his doppelganger looked at him, and in that moment, stepped into him. The two identical Sherlocks converged, becoming one form, one man.
Sherlock stood in the palace of his mind finally whole again, and complete.
Sherlock understood.
The voice called again stronger now.
The darkness retreated more.
Sherlock saw it, the staircase he had descended to get down.
Sherlock quickly moved toward both the staircase and the voice.
Sherlock gained both speed and strength as he ascended following the voice. It both pulled him forward and tethered him to reality.
As Sherlock took a step through a door, the brightest light assaulted him. Sherlock's shoes tapped on the familiar marble hall. He now recognized whom the voice was from. It was Mycroft's voice.
Sherlock followed it.