A few hours after their interesting escape from Queen Elizabeth I, Molly finally ventured out of her room and into the TARDIS's hallways. She'd asked the resident Time Lord earlier where the library was, but she still took a few wrong turns before finally finding the right room.
The TARDIS library was huge, with bookcases that stretched far over Molly's head, towards glass ceiling that showered the library in artificial sunlight. This was probably the most beautiful room Molly had ever seen in the TARDIS – the Doctor clearly had a passion for reading.
As Molly picked through the bookshelves in search of what she'd come for, she thought over the day's events. Saving the world from aliens, fighting witches with William Shakespeare, changing history, or preserving it, they'd done it all in two days. The Doctor had been excited, sure, but he'd acted like this happened every day for him. She'd known going in it was going to be dangerous. But realizing the extent of how bizzare and fragile the Doctor's life was both excited her and frightened her. She'd met an amazing man today, walked among people who'd been dead for years and years, had a world-famous sonnet written in her name. Her, little Molly Hooper who lived her life in others' shadows. It was nothing short of amazing.
But it was also incredibly dangerous. If anything had gone wrong today, the whole human race would've been destroyed. She would have faded out of existence, and so would have everyone she'd ever met. It was terrifying to realize the existence of the world she'd known was so incredibly fragile.
Fear was only part of what she was feeling. It was mostly excitement and joy, and no short measure of curiousity. She knew the Doctor better now than she had when this whole companion thing had started, but there was still so much the Time Lord didn't say. There was one thing she'd gleaned from the day's events; Rose, who'd he'd mentioned earlier, had meant a lot to him. She'd guessed that when he'd mentioned her the first time, but after the carrionite had knocked her out, she'd heard the name Rose, and she'd heard the pain and loss in his voice when he'd said, "That name keeps me fighting!" She didn't know for sure, but she had a feeling he might have loved Rose, just from the way he'd said her name, and the way he'd reacted to hearing it. Molly might have been awkward and fumbling in conversation, but she was good at reading others. The Doctor was clearly in pain, and losing Rose seemed to be the cause of it.
She'd have to find out later exactly who Rose was and who she'd been to him, and where she was now. There wasn't a lot she could do for herself and her own pitiful crush on Sherlock, but if there was any way to help the Doctor, he would.
These heavy thoughts were chased away as Molly finally found what she was looking for. Smiling, she pulled the book from the shelf, respectful of the book's fragility in age. Several comfy chairs and cushions lay directly under the artificial sunlight; Molly chose one and snuggled in, basking in the warmth of the sunlight and fond memories as she flipped through a book of Shakspeare's sonnets, finally finding the one he'd begun reciting that afternoon. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…"
So there's the short interlude I promised. Short, like I said.
Molly's picking up on the Rose hints just like Martha, but unlike her she's interested in helping the Doctor get through it. Again, not saying Martha's a bad person for feeling jealous. See my previous rant on the matter if you wish.
As for the Shakespeare sonnet... oh come on. Tell me in all seriousness, that if William Freaking Shakespeare wrote a famous sonnet about you, that you would not memorize the shit out of that sonnet. I don't care whether you're a Shakespeare fan or not. It's William Freaking Shakespeare.