Sherlock Holmes Mind Palace Book Novels & Stories

Just past the first turn, she realised there was no house, no village in front of her, only a long stretch of whiteness bordered by snow-powdered hedges without a telltale rise in smoke in the distance. She didn't dare look up again for a long while. Time lost all meaning as she walked onward, her cheeks stinging, then without feeling, as hints of eventide crept in behind the melancholy December sky. It was then that Betty murmured an almost forgotten prayer from her childhood……...a little something to her guardian Angel begging an entree to paradise. ………………………….. She awoke stretching contentedly. Staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, it took her a few moments to determine where she was, but

“I told you that I will be back for you.” Hearing those words as the glimpse of the past is rushing back unto his mind, like it is bombarding him and slapping him of the truth from each second of his life that in this world he will never have the only thing he ever wishes and desire. He feels like it’s dragging him deep and more into madness and slowly turning him into a madman, yet a sinful one in return. Walking slowly and almost stumbling down and even falling in front of the bookshelf, a book falls beside him as it flips open and the image of the drawn hatter falls unto his eyes.

“I have some errands to run.” “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” That was all the explanation I got before Rihero’s image disappeared from the mental vault I had created especially for this conversation. A second later, I opened my eyes to the sight of millions of books around me in the palace library. And the only question on my mind was: “What the hell just happened?”

Susan gave the woman a small smile and decided to show it to her. "Here, this is a projection from the insides of the public library of London." Susan waved a hand and created an illusion of the interior of a gigantic library. It showed hundreds of rows of bookshelves with hundreds of thousands of books in it, and hundreds of reading tables available with individual illumination in each table. Madam Pince looked at it with a shocked expression.

Sleep refused to come. My mind felt restless. Maybe there was something in this room that could help me remember. Slowly, I stood up. I began looking around. The bookshelf immediately caught my attention. Dozens of books filled the shelves. I pulled several out. There were history books, pack law books and training manuals. Then I noticed something else. There were fiction novels; thrillers, mysteries and crime novels. I blinked. Apparently, I enjoyed those. "I don't remember reading any of these."

You can explain this. "Where am I? How did I get here?" Her last memory was of reading the damn book and—the book! Where was the book? Her heart thundered uncontrollably, a barrage of thunder inside her chest, as she probed her surroundings once more. There! Her book rested on the vanity, so close, yet so far away.

Several moments later he returned carrying a book unlike any I had ever seen. It had no title. Its cover was completely white. When he placed it in my hands, I noticed something even stranger. Every page was blank. Chaos looked intrigued. "I haven't seen that one in centuries." "What is it?" I asked. Order gently turned the first page. "A reflection." I frowned. "Of what?" He smiled softly. "A missing soul." Silence settled over the room. He looked at me. "Picture the one you're searching for." I closed my eyes.

“I must’ve been unconsciously time traveled again. How far back?” He paced back and forth. Half thinking, half panicking. The dizzy was back again, he wanted to massage the bridge of his nose, then he realized he still held the book. Then his eyes went to the wall that hosted the floor to ceiling shelves. There was one empty space the same size as the book in his hand. Shaking unimportant thoughts away, he strode towards the only chair in the room, then opened the book, because there must be something in here that fate wanted him to learn.

He waited patiently, his silence prompting me to continue. “Have you… have you ever seen a very old book in the palace library? A large one, bound in dark wood, with silver clasps?” I described the book from my dreams as best as I could, the inscription about the blood moon and the shadowy figure feeling foolish even as I spoke the words. Liam’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of something crossing his usually impassive face. “There are many old books in the royal library, Your not Highness. Can you recall any specific markings or titles?”

Looking concerned. I stared at her. She stared back. “Breakfast is ready,” she said, smiling politely. “Shall I help you dress?” And that was when it hit me—not all at once, but in little pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle slowly snapping together. The name. The maid. The chandelier. The feeling of déjà vu so strong it made my skin prickle. I knew this place. I knew this life. Because I’d read about it. In a book. Some cheesy, overdramatic web novel I devoured during finals week, right before my body gave out from a delightful combo of stress, insomnia, and enough caffeine to stop a small horse’s heart.