Sherlock Holmes is renowned far and wide for his Mind Palace but Mycroft Holmes is privately known to have a House Of Memories.
Elina Hooper is the twin sister of the sweet pathologist, Molly. French on their mother's side and being both graced wit...
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"I had, of course, several other backup plans. Trouble is, I couldn't remember what they were." Sherlock stated across to John at Baker Street, wearing his dressing gown and looking loads better in himself. "And, I of course, hadn't really anticipated that I'd hallucinated meeting his daughter."
"Basically he trashed himself on drugs so that you'd help him..." Mary stated through John's mind. His eyes lift to where his deceased wife stood by the window. "So that you'd have something to do, something doctory. You get that now, though?"
"Still a bit troubled by the daughter. Did seem very real, and she gave me information I couldn't have acquired elsewhere." He raises his eyes to John's. "But she wasn't ever here?"
"Interesting, isn't it? I have theorised before that if one could attenuate to every available data stream in the world simultaneously, it would be possible to anticipate and deduce almost anything." He sniffed out passively whilst turning to look down pensively. "So you dreamed up a magic woman who told you things you didn't know." John nodded out.
"Well, it sounds about right to me. Possibly I'm biased." Mary smiled down at John.
"Perhaps the drugs opened certain doors in my mind." Sherlock looked away again, thinking about it. "I'm intrigued." He takes another drink from his mug. "Oh, I know you are... Which is why we're all taking it in turns to keep you off the sweeties. Your wife included and your daughter being the incentive." John stated across with a darkened tune.
"I thought we were just hanging out." He smiles slightly. John looks at his watch, then looks up again. "Lenny'll be here in twenty minutes."
"Oh, I do think I can last twenty minutes without supervision." Sherlock smiles again. John looks down, thinking for a moment. "Well, if you're sure." John lifts his mug to drink from it. Sherlock turns his head, looking hurt.
"Christ, John, stay. Talk!" Mary exasperated with a palm to her face. John puts his mug on the tray which is on top of the table beside him, then puts his hands on the chair arms and shifts forward. "Uh, sorry, it's just, um, you know, Rosie."
"Yes, of course, Rosie." Sherlock agreed.
"Go and solve a crime together. Make him wear the hat!"
"You'll be okay for twenty minutes?" John questioned whilst ignoring his wife. Mary narrows her eyes and glares at him. "Yes. Yes! Sorry, I-I wasn't thinking of Rosie."
"No problem."
"I should, uh, come and see her soon. Clarabella wants to finally meet her." He looks up hopefully at John. "Yes." John presses flatly.
"Actually, he should wear the hat as a special tribute to me. I'm dead. I would really appreciate it." The ghostly figure of Mary commentated. As she spoke, John turns and walks towards the door. Behind him, Sherlock lowers his head, looking very lonely. He looks at his mug, and then raises his head. "Oh, by the way, the recordings will probably be inadmissible."
