Thank you very much for this fun prompt! I hope you like my take on your prompt! <3
"John? Where’s Molly? She’s not at the morgue and she’s not answering any of my messages." Sherlock asked as he barged into 221B.
"She’s being interviewed, I thought you knew." John answered him absentmindedly as he flipped through the newspaper.
"What? Why would they want to interview her?"
John looked up from his newspaper and gave Sherlock one of his looks meaning he was saying something stupid.
"Her blog. It’s huge, how could you possibly have missed it. It’s even more popular than mine."
The consulting detective squinted at his friend thoughtfully.
"She’s not a fashion blogger is she? How to fit the entire rainbow into your closet; a guide by Molly Hooper." Sherlock sniggered.
"Don’t be mean Sherlock. It’s actually about murder."
"Yeah, she writes about all the strange victims that come into her morgue and amateurs try to solve the murders."
"They allow that?" His interest sparked.
"Huh." He took a seat and placed his hands under his chin in their signature position.
“I write about murder.” Sherlock stated, sounding a bit upset.
“I write about murder, why don’t I have more hits on my blog?”
“You’re still thinking about that? You’ve been quiet for hours.”
“Have I? Didn’t notice. So why does she have more hits than me?”
He shot up from the couch and started pacing about the room, pondering.
“Ask Molly. She’ll be here any second.”
“Are you kidding? I just told you. I invited her over to celebrate.”
Sherlock frowned. More people, never good. Besides, he didn’t want to hear about her major success or her idiotic interview. He rolled his eyes at the thought. And she was surely going to be all smiling and giggling, making it impossible for him to think. Just then the sound of footsteps could be heard rushing up the stairs.
“There she is!” John declared. “Be nice.” He added under his breath, looking strictly at Sherlock.
“Hi!” The petite woman came smiling and jubilant into their flat, just as he had predicted.
John gave her a hearty hug and a kiss on the cheek before offering her something to drink.
“So how did it go? Tell us all about it!” The doctor insisted as he poured Molly some wine.
Sherlock groaned and earned himself another one of John’s looks.
“Well, she started asking abou-“ the pouting man-child hunched up in his chair rudely interrupted Molly.
“Why do you have more readers than me?”
Molly was speechless for a minute and John gave him a proper slap to the back of his head, messing up his curls.
“That wasn’t necessary!”
“Believe me, it was.” John scowled.
“It’s fine John.” The pathologist politely interfered. She was blushing slightly.
“You could give him some tips though, wouldn’t hurt.” John offered.
“Okay, fine give me your tips then.”
“You have to remember that you’re writing for an audience. Just maybe try to tone down the rapid conclusions and explain a little more. You know I’ll bet it’d be a huge success if you taught them how to deduce, just explain how you do it, for normal people that is. And maybe tone down the tobacco talk..” Molly gave her advice confidently. The interview had really done wonders for her self-esteem and even Sherlock’s menacing glare couldn’t dampen her mood.
The consulting detective hated feeling inadequate. He had assumed she didn’t have any good advice and thought that asking for tips was a way of undermining her, not the opposite. For God’s sake he was supposed to be a proper genius!
“Just continue, so what did she ask about?” John redirected the conversation seeing that Sherlock was practically inapproachable by the state he was in.
Sherlock completely zoned out, refusing to listen to the nonsense. Nonetheless, his mind always wandered back to Molly. He kept on going deeper into his mind palace, trying to escape the malice. But wherever he went, wherever he tried to hide she was always beside him, taking his hand. He shook her hand out of his and ran down the halls, but she was right back beside him, taking his hand in hers and flashing one of her sweet smiles. After a while he gave up running and turned to face the woman. Sherlock told her to go away, get lost, find someone else to chase. She only kept smiling.
He covered his mouth to hide the involuntary smile that threatened to spread across his face. What was happening? He turned to run again, his hands sweating. He burst frantically through a random door, nearly falling through and shut the door behind him.
He crouched, trying to catch his breath and panting wildly. His eyes were fixed to the floor for along time until his pulse calmed. Finally he discovered just which room he had entered.
His familiar wallpaper decorated the walls and the painted yellow smiley face was as happy as ever. The walls were lined with books and containers filled with body parts. The room was oh so familiar and secretly one of his most frequented ones. Molly’s room.
She was sitting in his chair in the middle of the room wearing her rainbow jumper with that patterned shirt underneath. She was smiling smugly at him as she fiddled with her hair that cascaded down her shoulders. Sherlock sighed.
“Why are you following me?”
“I’m not Sherlock, you came into my room.” She smirked.
The tall man rose up from his crouching position, eyeing her confused.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“This is your mindpalace Sherlock, the rooms are what you make them. You came into my room.”
“Sherlock are you alright? You’re mumbling.”
Sherlock was violently pulled from his mindpalace and shot back to his living room, his two friends looking at him worriedly. He started at seeing Molly sitting in the same chair as she had been just seconds ago in his Molly room. Naturally his palms were sweating again. His mind was still blurred from the shock of the rude awakening. His mouth was still mouthing words and suddenly they became audible.
He desperately tried to think of something to say and in the midst of the chaos he managed to utter a few words;
“Can you help me with my blog?”
I adore this. :)