The Mind Palace

Chapter Six

Eventually, I took a seat on the bench opposite of Sherlock. When I coughed, he didn't look up. His mind palace was somewhat fascinating, as it could put him in a trance for days on end. I hoped this wasn't one of his long stays in there, as I really needed his help to get out.

I lost track of time in the clock less room, but I was certain hours passed before we heard it. "It" was along, incredibly loud yawn from down the hall. Was someone else in with us? Why hadn't they called out before?

I got up and looked out the cell, trying to get the best possible view down the long, darkened corridor. I had a bit of luck, as I was able to poke my head between two of the bars, but when I turned to look, the only view I was met with was a few yards of torchlight leading into complete blackness.

"Hello?" I called into the hall. No response. "My name is John Watson, my friend and I are in here as well. I think I heard you yawn?" Still no response. "We're not going to hurt you, we're just wondering if you're in there, uh... Could I get a response? Maybe a 'hello?'"

I heard something shuffle at the end of the hall, the small noise repeating off the stone walls and down to our cell. This was driving me crazy! "We know you're down there, if you could just tell us who you are instead of being-"

I saw something glint at the very end of the hall, the blackest point. It glowed just slightly, and was round, with a strip of black straight down the middle. It was massive, about as tall as me. I didn't realize what it was until another just like it opened.

Eyes.

I returned fully into the cell in a hustle. "Sherlock," I whispered, shaking him, "I need your help. Come on, we have to get out of here."

Something rubbed against the floor, scraping it, and I felt the room shake as the thing stood up.

"Come on Sherlock, not now. Please."

I was nearly knocked off my feet as the beast took a heavy, hard footstep- no doubt in our direction.

I was beginning to panic. "Sherlock, please. I need you."

His head snapped up from its relaxed position. "The mind palace!"

"I think you've spent enough time in there now, Sherlock. It was hard enough to get you out! And we kind of have a problem on our hands!"

"No, John, I'm not out! Neither of us is out! We are in the mind palace- now!"

Suddenly things made a lot of sense. The winding halls. Redbeard. 221B. Baker Street. Of course! How could I not have known?

"Then can you get rid of whatever's at the end of the corridor?!" I was shouting now.

He looked confused. "End of the corr... What?"

There was another massive footstep, and I'm pretty sure I heard the stone floor crack under the thing's weight.

Sherlock's eyes grew wide. "That's not in my mind palace."

"Obviously, it is. So can we please just get out of here?"

"We can try," Sherlock said, tapping a rhythm onto one of the cell bars. I noticed that it was the same one that the Shakri had used to tap into the wall, opening the door to the stairs.

Luckily, the door opened. As we stepped out of the cell, the beast roared at the sight of his prey. I couldn't help but turn and stare.

A dragon. Of course. Why not? With polished maroon scales, he reflected the torchlight in a way that would have been beautiful if we weren't about to be devoured by a fairy tale creature. The eyes were a bright yellow up close.

"Interesting," Sherlock said, but he wasn't about to wait in such danger. Grabbing my hand once more, he and I tore down the corridor and sprinted up the stairs faster than I thought humanly possible.

I felt my back burn and smelled smoke, heard another roar and fast, heavy footsteps, the beating of wings here and there, but I did not stop. The stairs seemed to be many more stairs, now that we were running for our lives, which was terribly inconvenient, but we hurried up them all the same.

When we finally reached the top, Sherlock tapped in the same rhythm, hands shaking slightly in his fear. The panel slid away, and we rushed out into the hall. I stopped only when I heard the whoosh that promised the entry was closed again.

Next to me, Sherlock was beating a few embers out of his long coat, cursing under his breath. I sat, leaning against the wall, and couldn't help but laugh a small, winded, giggle.

Sherlock looked down at me, nose crinkled. "What's so funny?"

I smiled. "A dragon. Of all things!"

When I continued to chuckle, he smiled just a bit. "Can't imagine what else we have to find in here."

"Hopefully something less dangerous next time!"

He waved my words away. "Shut up, you're loving this."

I shrugged. "I guess you've rubbed off on me."

He smiled and held up the singed ends of his coat, but provided no verbal response.

I carried on. "So you really don't have any idea why there was a massive dragon in your mind palace?"

"I thought it might have something to do with the book I'm reading."

"What book is that?"

He tugged his coat back on and pulled me to my feet. "The Hobbit. Now, where shall we go to find the Doctor?"

"Well, now you know the code to get into all of those little rooms so-"

Sherlock shook his head. "I don't think I do. What prison only has one password, one key, for the whole building? What sort of bank keeps only one code for the entire vault's stocks? It wouldn't make sense."

"We were almost just turned to dust by a dragon, and you're bringing sense into this?"

"Fair point."

"So we're just-"

"Going to wander, yes. Worked the past few times."

"Did it?"

"No."

We were, however, making good progress as we spoke, as we had come across a new hall, rid of the wood and glass paneling, replacing it with a blue sort of wall, the color of the sky in summer. The ground had turned to well-paved road, and a little yellow townhouse was materializing ahead of us. As we walked, the blue of the walls raised above us, now seriously resembling a sky. Trees and other small houses, like the one ahead, almost appeared beside us, but stopped partway- like ghosts, wavering between fantasy and reality.

Sherlock stopped walking beside me. "John."

I turned to look at him, having taken a few steps onward.

He shook his head. "We can't continue up here. Let's turn around."

I let out a one syllable, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me laugh. "There's no way I'm going back to those winding halls. That got us nowhere!"

He spoke through gritted teeth. "This won't get us anywhere either. Come on, let's go back."

"Sherlock," I said, blinking hard, "there is no way I'm going back into those confusing, endless corridors."

I noticed that his eyes were growing watery, something I'd never seen them do. His voice cracked. "Please."

I stepped back to where he stood and took his hand, holding it in both of mine. "I'll be right here with you." He refused to make eye contact, staring instead at the ground. I spoke quietly. "Whatever is in there is something you need to get over, need to face. You can't shove it away in this corner of your mind- not forever! It's okay to hide in the darkness, in ignorance, every once in a while, but someday you're going to have to turn on a light." He used his spare hand to rub a tear from his cheek, as it had escaped from his eye. I was just whispering now. "Let's go turn on that light."