It all started very late one night. John had already gone to sleep, with Rosy on his chest so Sherlock couldn't ask him to drive when we got a private case that he was told was urgent he start working as quickly as possible. So, Sherlock went to Mrs. Hudson car after getting the key and started driving. It was rainy but nothing Sherlock couldn't drive through. But, the weather took a suddenly turn for the worse when he was a ways out. The wind picked up the rain started coming down so hard he couldn't see. Then thunder and lightning joined in. This was bad Sherlock couldn't tell where he was. Than he saw a flash of light and felt the engine cut out. The storm was so bad everyone was sheltering in place so no one saw what happened next. It wasn't until the next day when the irregulars were on their way to Baker Street and saw a car wreck. One of the trio rushed forward the moment he saw it.
"Tennyson..." Wiggins started.
Wiggins was a black teen who was the leader of the group.
"It's Mr. Holmes' car." Tennyson said.
Tennyson was the youngest and a blonde boy. Wiggins looked at Deidre who was the only girl of the group and was quiet the tom-boy. Wiggins ran forward realizing Tennyson was right.
"M-Maybe Mr. Holmes wasn't in the car when it crashed." Deidre said as she ran forward.
They found Sherlock's deerstalker and his Inverness but no sign of Sherlock. Deidre skyped with Baker Street. John answered it. Deidre looked scared.
"Deidre, is something wrong?" John asked.
"We found Mr. Holmes' car. It looks like he crashed last night. But he's no where in sight." Deidre said.
The fact that Sherlock was nowhere to be found after crashing scared the Irregulars. John paled with fear. John disconnected and called Lestrade at New Scotland Yard.
"Lestrade, Sherlock is missing and the Irregulars found his car wrecked. He was nowhere in sight." John said he was near panic.
Lestrade got off and ran to tell Grayson.
"I know you don't like Holmes, but, he's missing. His wrecked car was found." Lestrade said.
Grayson got every inspector not currently on a case out looking for Sherlock. The Irregulars went to Baker Street after Lestrade got there.
"We should be helping find Mr. Holmes too." Wiggins said.
"Let's let the yard work first." Tennyson said.
Eventually the irregulars started looking but no sign or clue was to be found. Over time less and less of the inspectors from the yard were looking actively for Sherlock Holmes. Eventually three years had passed with no sign of Sherlock. Everyone was losing hope. A mystery writer was a regular at a cafe and watched people as he wrote. That day the irregulars came into the cafe. The man's usual drink was placed on his table. He paid for the drink.
"Anything else I can get you Mr. Dupont?" Was asked.
"I've told you call me Jean." He replied.
"And no."
Jean was watching the irregulars. He tucked his long blonde hair back a bit. Jean had a beard and mustache.
"I think something must have happened to Mr. Holmes. There has been no sign of him in three years. If not he would have contacted someone by now." Tennyson said in his usual series of beeps and whirls.
Jean shook his head thinking a moment of a dream he had been having off and on for two years. Jean went to the irregulars with his tablet and drink. Tennyson looked at the blonde haired light, gray eyed man that just walked over to them.
"Who are you?" Tennyson asked.
"I've been going by Jean Dupont for the last two years. Don't know what it really is though." He answered.
"I've been having this dream off and on."
"I'm falling off a building... there's a man below... in the dream he yelled a name but I wake up about then every time..." Jean said.
"What's the name?" Deidre asked.
"Sherlock." Jean said.
"I remember talking to that man on the roof... Jim Moriarty... I think he called me Sherlock... but, why does that matter it was just a dream."
"I don't think so... will you come with us... it might help you remember." Wiggins said.
"Alright." Jean said.
The irregulars were led to a car.
"We can take my car." Jean said.
They were actually very close to Baker Street.
"We're within walking distance of where we need to go though." Wiggins said.
Jean nodded and followed the three curious. Soon Wiggins walked into Baker Street.
"John!" Wiggins called.
John came down.
"Wiggins..." John started.
"Tell him about your dream." Wiggins said.
"I'm falling off a building... there's a man below... in the dream he yelled out the name Sherlock... but I wake up about then every time... Before I fell I remember talking to that man on the roof... Jim Moriarty... I think he called me Sherlock." Jean said.
The Irregulars looked at John. John turned very pale and grabbed something to steady himself. His mouth was opening and closing, but he made no sound.
"Mr. Dupont as he went by has had amnesia for two years." Wiggins said.
"Coma a year before that." Jean said.
"Not that this hasn't been fun but damn it I have a deadline. My publisher is expecting my latest novel in a few days."
"Publisher?" Was asked.
"I'm an author." Jean said.
"Might be good for you to stay here. Someone should call Lestrade." Wiggins said.
"I have my own place nearby and I wouldn't want to impose." Jean said.
"Impose, you could never impose. This is your home even if you do not remember." John said.
"You don't know me. Hell I don't really know me. How could you..." Jean started and gasped as a flash came of John came to his memory the flash was when he'd talked to Watson on his cellphone.
"John?"
John nodded.
"The band is never going to freaking believe this." Jean said.
"Sherlock!" John exclaimed shocked.
"John." Jean instantly responded sharply.
Jean reacted without thinking.
"The children." John said.
"I'm sure they've heard it before." Jean said.
"Not from you." Wiggins said in shock.
"I'm not Mr. Holmes." Jean said and walked out.
"Maybe we just need to give him time." Deidre said.
"Tennyson can you find out where Jean Dupont lives?" John asked.
"Why?" Wiggins asked.
"I was thinking of leaving the journals for him inside. I'm sure one of you could help with that." John said.
"I figure you'd be returning something of his."
Jean went to his flat and wrote a chapter for his novel. Than contacted his friend to see if he was still coming to the club. He told him he'd be there since he didn't have to work. Jean went to the club after picking up his violin case. His friend went as Jean was making sure his violin was tuned up. Jean seemed bothered by something.
"Is something wrong, Jean?" He asked.
TO BE CONTINUED...