Chapter two

Rain patted against the chilled glass of the window, the sound soothing… Almost like a lullaby.

"John? Are you listening?" John Watson, who was sat in a plush red arm chair allowed his gaze to snap back up to the woman sat opposite him.

"What?" she sighed, allowed her eyes to role briefly before, once again, becoming the picture of calmness.

"I said the only person who can help you is yourself."

"So I should tell my mother to stop paying you should I? Sounds like she's wasting her money." The woman chuckled and placed her note pad down.

"What about the blog? Have you started that?" John groaned, running a hand over his tired face. "It will help… I use this concept on many soldiers returning from war. Especially those with injuries as serious as your own."

"I haven't started it…"

"Look John… I know you don't like me very much. That you're only here out of kindness to your mother. But believe me when I tell you… Writing a blog about everything you actually remember before the incident will help you move on."

John paused for a second, staring out of the window with a wounded expression.

"I don't remember anything…."

There was something about losing all his memories that had changed John… Well, maybe he'd changed. He couldn't really remember what he was like before. He assumed he wasn't the miserable bastard he'd become.

The first thing he could remember was waking up in a hospital in London with two woman (one considerably older than the other) peering down at him with worried faces. After the somewhat traumatic experience of asking who they were before watching both break down as if they'd just been told the end was coming he was informed these two strangers where, in fact, his mother and sister.

The situation was explained to him over a series of weeks. The doctors tried many things in an attempt to help him regain his memories but nothing worked. John Watson was an empty shell, a middle aged man who knew nothing of his past and was sporting as less then enviable limp.

"Sometimes," a nurse had told him when he was having a particularly bad day. "There's a trigger, do you know what I mean? Something that will flick the light switch in your mind and it will all come rushing back. Like someone's turned on a tap in your brain."

John didn't know what his trigger was… He'd tried to think but the fog just wouldn't clear in his mind.

"Don't worry about it," she'd said kindly. "If you remember, then good. If you don't, well, some of us would give a lot to start again. A completely blank slate."

That's what John was.

A blank slate.

He spent time with the woman apparently labelled his sibling and ensured he visited his 'mother' as often as possible. More for her benefit then his own. He felt sorry for her… He may have to start again but, he supposed, she had sort of lost a child.

The man she knew, who she'd raised and created wonderful memories with… Was gone. Replaced by the hollow, unhappy human he now was.

He found himself wondering through a park near the therapist office which he'd just left, wondering if he'd ever been there before. Staring at the trees and hoping that something, anything, would grab his attention and make him see…

"John?"

He ignored the call at first, probably not for him anyway… No call was ever for him.

"John Watson?" Ok, perhaps it was. He stopped; his walking stick tightly gripped in his hand, and turned around.

A plump gentleman in a grey suit was jogging towards him with a massive smile on his face.

"John Watson! As I live and breathe! Haven't seen you for years!"

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"…Mike! Mike Stamford? We went to Bart's together?… I heard you where abroad getting shot at! What the bloody hell happened!"

A silence grew around them as the nearby park erupted in child rends laughter. John squeezed his stick tightly and allowed a small, forgiving smile to grace his lips.

"I got shot."

"So you don't remember anything?"

"No, not a thing… I mean, I remember my name…. But even then I'm not sure if it's just because that's what people have been calling me since I woke up at the hospital. I've memorized my birthday and age… Important stuff, you know?"

"Wow, how extraordinary!" John raised an eyebrow. "From a medical point of view I mean… So what, you ever going to remember?"

"Not a clue… Got to find this trigger thing. Although how I'm supposed to I don't know…"

"Well, it's glad to have you back in London! Are you going to be staying?"

"I can't afford London on an army pension…"

"But you couldn't bear to be anywhere else! Not the John Watson I knew!"

"Yes, well, I'm not the John Watson you knew…" He saw Mike shrink back slightly and sighed. "Sorry… It's just… Well, my mother's always going on about how I used to be and stuff… Like I've died or something… It can get you down after a while."

"I can see why…"

The two men sat in silence on the bench for a few minutes, just watching the world go by.

"You could get a flat share. You know, split the cost?" John snorted and stretched his arms with a sigh.

"Who on earth would want to be my flat mate?" Mike gave him a curious glance before chuckling. "What?"

"Nothing… It's just… You're the second person to say that to me today." John paused and stared straight ahead, thinking hard.

"Who was the first?"

Mike seemed to grimace before clearing his throat.

"I'm not sure you want to know mate… I mean… He's a bit of an odd ball…"

"At this point Mike, I'm willing to try anything."

"If you say so. But don't say I didn't warn you…"

The trip to Bart's wasn't long, a quick jump into a taxi and a silent journey through the London traffic and they where there, Mike held the door open for John which he thanked him for quietly whilst trying to stop the shaking of his hand.

They wondered through the corridors chatting lightly about the weather whilst John peered around at these new surroundings.

"Ah, Mike." John looked up to see a petite woman smiling widely at them.

"Hello Molly, is the genius about?" She nodded and smiled, gesturing towards a nearby door.

"In there, I'm going to get coffee, do you want anything?"

"I'm fine thanks, you John?"

"I'm alright ta…" The woman nodded politely and wondered past them.

"Molly, lovely girl."

"She seems it." Mike wandered over to the door and pushed it open.

"Come on in." John nodded and followed him, his walking stick clicking with a light echo bouncing from the walls.

"Do you want a seat John?"

"No… No. I'm fine standing thank you… Wow, look at this place."

"Yeah, all the modern stuff got installed a few years back. It's taken me all this time to work out how most of it works." The plump man chuckled and grabbed his lab coat from the back of his chair, slipping his arms into it and doing up the buttons.

"Mike, can I use your phone?" John blinked and turned to peer at the source of the voice. Leant over a rather complicated looking experiment was a tall, pale man in a dark suit. His curly hair had fallen in front of his face slightly. Mike turned to the gentlemen and sighed.

"Sorry, it's in my other jacket in the cloak room."

"Here, you can use mine." John pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to the man,

"Oh… Thank you."

"It's fine." John looked into the other mans eyes and frowned. They were staring at him with such an intent gaze he felt a shiver creep up his spine.

It was unnerving.

The ex solider cleared his throat and turned back to Mike.

"So erm… Would it be ok if I got your number Mike? You know, would be nice to actually have a friend somewhere in the city." Mike chuckled and nodded, handing his old friend one of his cards.

"Sure, call me and we'll get a pint some time."

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" John froze and slowly turned back to the stranger, his eyes wide. The taller man was not even looking at him anymore, but staring at the phone screen intently.

"Excuse me?"

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan… Sorry how did you…"

"You're difficult to read, that much is certain. The solider part is easy enough, the fact your brother is worried about you but suffering from some sort of alcohol problem… But the rest of you is a complete mystery. Tell me," he turned and held out the phone with a smirk. "How much do you remember before your memory was wiped clean?"

John slowly took the phone back and stuffed it into his pocket.

"How did you know all of that?"

"It's like his party trick," Mike piped up from his desk. "He takes one look at you and tells you everything about yourself. I guess you don't really know yourself so how can you possibly show who you are. Does that make sense?"

"In a strange, obscure fashion, yes," the man said. "And it isn't a party trick. It's deduction. Serious work." Mike laughed and sat back in his chair, glancing between the two men with a smile.

"John Watson, meet Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes, meet John Watson."

Sherlock Holmes?

John held out his hand and attempted to smile politely.

"Nice to meet you… That was amazing… That thing you did." Sherlock seemed to raise an eyebrow before clearing his throat.

"Do you think so?"

"Brilliant!"

"That's not what people usually say."

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss off." John blinked a few times before laughing.

"I guess you tell them things they don't want to hear?"

"More than often. People are so easy to read, you just have to look for what they're subconsciously telling you."

"And how was I telling you about those things you picked up on?" Sherlock smirked and wondered over to the doorway, picking up his coat and pulling it on.

"I assume you're here about the whole flat mate situation? I've got my eyes on a lovely little place. We should be able to afford it together."

"What?"

"Oh, isn't it obvious? Mike turns up with an old friend, obviously looking for a flat mate, the very day I myself was complaining about been unable to find one."

Mike rolled his eyes and gestured to Sherlock.

"He's always like this…"

"The address is 221B Baker Street, shall we meet there say…. Five?"

"Five…. Sounds good."

"Wonderful. Good day gentlemen." Mike tipped an invisible cap and laughed at Johns expression once Sherlock was out of ear shot.

"Told you he was an odd one."

"He's brilliant! How did he… I don't get it!"

"He won't tell me how he does it either. Maybe one day you'll manage to niggle it out of him. If you do give me the heads up. It would be good to try and put the bastard in his place for once." John smiled and nodded before running a hand through his sandy hair.

"Well… I should probably head home. I mean, get things ready before I see this flat."

"Good luck mate… You'll need it."

John left Bart's and returned to his small room in the accommodation provided for him upon his return from the war. He passed the other residence with a tired, weary nod and unlocked his door before slamming it shut behind him. In silence he lowered himself onto his bed and peered around the small, empty, unfeeling room.

This wasn't his home. No… This wasn't his home at all. There was no life… He felt no joy when he returned there, only the constant drudgery of those four walls.

He glanced at his watch. 3 o'clock. Two hours before he had to meet Mr Holmes. With curious thoughts and a light churning in his stomach he lowered himself down onto the bed and allowed sleep to overcome him, so long as his nightmares permitted.

"He's getting a flat mate." The young girl folded her legs in the wooden dining chair and smirked. "What do you think of that?" In all honesty, delivering bad news to her boss made her almost insanely happy. Anything she could do to just wipe that everlasting grin from the man's face was worth it in her opinion.

"Damn it!" The mug that had been full of boiling hot, freshly brewed tea smashed on the wall behind her as she chuckled.

"Throwing a little tantrum are we?"

"You don't speak to me like that, not unless you want to set up residence at the bottom of the Thames."

"Oh, come off it. You love the fact I'm not scared of you. It makes it interesting. You like the banter. Still, can't say you're taking this news as well as I thought you would."

The man rolled his eyes and sat down behind his desk.

"The more people involved the harder it is. Every turn I take Sherlock Holmes seems to want nothing more than to irritate me in more ways than one. I need to find a loop hole… Something to use as a weapon against him…"

"That man doesn't have a weakness. I've been following him for more than a year. If it's some sort of front he's putting on it's a bloody convincing one. Besides, you haven't asked me the most interesting questions of all."

"Who is this mysterious flat mate?"

"Ah, this is where it gets oh so very juicy." The man lent forward, suddenly interested in what his young worker had to say."

"Do spill the beans sweetie pie." She laughed and leant back in her chair with a smirk.

"John Hamish Watson."

"You're joking…"

"Am I the type to make jokes?" The man seemed to think for a moment, his thoughts like a bullet train powering through his mind.

"This…" He said proudly. "Could work very well in our advantage little miss."

"I was aware. I know you think I'm an absolute idiot but there is a brain between these two ears…"

The man laughed again before picking up his phone and typing in some digits quickly. As the girl went to leave he waved his hand and smirked.

"Oh no, I have some plans for you sunshine. Just park yourself back in that chair and give me a few minutes. A deliciously sickly sweet plan is forming in my mind."

"What do you mean you're leaving?"

"It's my only chance… I've got to grab it with both hands…"

"But… But… What about me? You can't leave me! You promised John! You fucking swore!"

"I'll come back. I promise."

"Your promises mean nothing to me! Not anymore! How can you do this?"

"Keep playing the game. Just keep playing. I will be back. Believe me. I will be…"

"I want to believe you. I really, really do…"

John shot up in bed, his eyes wide and limbs shaking. In silence his eyes spun to his clock. Still an hour until he had to meet Mr Holmes.

He thought about his dream…

There had been no faces… No images at all. Just the voices… Obviously one of them was his but the other? He hadn't a clue. He swung himself from bed and grabbed his walking stick, pulling himself to his feet and wondering towards his desk.

He turned his laptop on and sat down, ready to write.

Would love to know what people are thinking so far! Let me know!

GOTM

x