Forgotten Memories, Introduction Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers and amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story however is my original thought, and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.

Author's note: This story stands alone. However, the character and relationship developments are from Deleted Memories. The first few chapters are an introduction.

**For those of you who read the end of Deleted Memories, this version has some changes from the preview and also have added and extended material. T rated but some future chapters may be M.

**A special thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment or review. It is encouraging as well as helpful.

Enjoy.

"Everyone has his day and some days last longer than others." ~ Winston Churchill

Moments in time, linked together by the decisions that are made. A series of choices. That is all that life really was. Forty–eight hours; or two thousand- eight hundred and eighty minutes; or one hundred and seventy two thousand, eight hundred seconds if it is preferred.

That is all that it took to bring him to this moment, this impossible moment and this impossible and painful choice.

48 Hours Earlier.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock's annoyed voice bellowed through the flat as he paced back and forth with nervous energy. John sighed as he sat cross-legged in his chair. He briefly glanced to look at his flatmate and friend before lowering his head again as he tried to read the morning newspaper.

Mrs. Hudson came hurriedly up the stairs with a questioning look on her face. Sherlock stopped his pacing, and stood with his hands behind his back and stared at her with an expression he usually reserved for suspects that he was trying to intimidate.

"Where. Are. My. Thumbs, Mrs. Hudson?"

Mrs. Hudson looked innocently at Sherlock before replying. "Your thumbs are still in the refrigerator right behind the carrots, Sherlock."

"No. The thumbs in the tub of water, not the thumbs in the Ziploc!"

"Why do you need two sets of thumbs?" John interrupted without taking his eyes off the newspaper that he was reading.

Sherlock turned to John, but not before rolling his eyes with exasperation. "I told you John. It was an experiment on a new method to extract fingerprints from bodies that have been in the water for longer than twenty-four hours."

"You could put all the thumbs in the same place." John offered helpfully.

Sherlock body stiffened as he looked condescendingly at John. He spoke with a false calm.

"John, I thought that you were the exception to the, everyone is an idiot rule, do not let me rethink my position."

John ignored his friend as he turned the page and looked at the advertisements.

Sherlock returned his attention back to their landlord as he deduced her. Mrs. Hudson looked guiltily at the wall, which she suddenly found fascinating. His eyes widened slightly, he locked eyes with her and spoke with a forced calm. "Mrs. Hudson," he started, raising both eyebrows.

"Well dear, you said to get rid of the thumbs. I thought I heard you say to get rid of the water not the Ziploc thumbs. By the way, I think the ears have gone bad too," she offered sweetly.

"Oy." John whispered as he moved the paper to the side so that he could see Sherlock's face. He saw his face turn a bright red. The detective's fair skin tone only exaggerated the color change.

"Now Sherlock," John started, "Take a deep breath and count to three."

"Three?" Sherlock said quietly to himself as he glanced at his flatmate, "Alright John."

"One."

He turned his attention back to Mrs. Hudson as he walked toward her.

"Two."

He advanced more as his voice rose slightly in volume. Hudson's eyes widened.

"Three!"

He bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Ooooow." Mrs. Hudson exited the flat quickly before Sherlock could start his rant about how he would have to start his experiment all over.

John resumed reading his paper. "Well that was lovely." Both John and Mrs. Hudson were used to his outbursts.

Sherlock deflated instantly as he allowed his body to collapse on the chair sighing. One leg rested on the arm of the chair. He frowned and crossed his arms.

"You need to apologize." He heard John voice float from behind the paper before adding, "You know if you throw your own failed experiments away none of this would happen."

"It was not failed. I was simply going in another direction." Sherlock pouted.

"You know, it also wouldn't kill you to help clean up the flat a bit." John turned the newspaper to the next page.

Sherlock gave John a look as he snorted at the idea of actually cleaning. When John heard the out of place sound, he fully lowered his paper for the first time.

Sherlock smiled dangerously as he opened his mouth to respond to John when the ringing of his mobile phone interrupted him.

Sherlock stretched into his inner suit pocket and put his mobile phone to his ear."Holmes," Sherlock answered. A smile spread across his face. He sat up straight and easily extracted his right leg from the arm of the chair to join the left on the floor. "Of course, how can I refuse?" He was heard saying as he disconnected the call.

The earlier disagreement was instantly forgotten as John folded then put down the newspaper. He waited quietly.

"The Lead's case. Lestrade wants us to investigate. A new body was found. This one was different from the rest, there was a note." Before he could finish, footsteps were heard.

"Yoo-hoo," Mrs. Hudson was heard saying. "Greg is outside."

Sherlock got up as he cleared his throat. He walked over to his coat and grabbed it. He stopped at Mrs. Hudson and said, "Um… Thank you Mrs. Hudson." He smiled at her, and she smiled back and kissed him on the cheek while she squeezed his hand. John smiled as he put on his coat and grabbed his mobile. That was as close to an apology as Sherlock came.

Everyone understood.

John smiled at Sherlock as they made their way down the stairs. He opened his mouth to comment, but was interrupted.

"Shut up John." Sherlock said calmly as he opened the door for John. "After you," he said as they slid into the back seat.

The motorcar disappeared as it easily blended into the busy morning traffic.