John sat staring at the file the doctor had placed beside him. He must have sat there for 10 minutes before he finally had the nerve to pick it up and start reading. The more he read the more confused he became. The doctor was right, what was in this file didn't make any sense. For the drug levels to be that high in his blood when he came in here he would've had to be on them for weeks right up to the time he was brought in. He knew that wasn't true. He hadn't taken any medication from the time he left hospital and went home with Jim.

What was the doctor suggesting? That Jim was drugging him? No, he thought, there's no way Jim would do that to me. Why would he? The only reason for maintaining drug levels that high would be to stop someone remembering. Was that what the doctor was trying to say? That Jim was responsible for all of this?

If that were true then he had no real memories. John started to feel anger rising inside him. The only memories he had were of the last three weeks and now this doctor wanted to tell him that they were made up. If they weren't true then he knew nothing about himself. It was like waking up in that hospital all over again. He'd been here before. His head was spinning and it made him feel sick. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't! John picked up the file and threw it across the room. He couldn't take this anymore. He lay down on the bed breathing heavily.

On the other side of the glass Sherlock stood watching helplessly. As he saw John getting more confused and angry he just wanted to go in there and tell him that everything would all be alright but he knew he couldn't. He placed his hand on the glass between them and watched as his friend slowly took deep breaths to calm himself down. As the anger subsided Sherlock could see exhaustion take over and eventually John drifted off to sleep.

As Sherlock watched he could see that the sleep was not a restful one. John twitched and fidgeted. He seemed to be having some sort of nightmare. Sherlock longed to be able to go in there and wake him. He couldn't bear to watch his friend go through this. Hadn't John suffered enough already? Sherlock turned away from the glass he could feel tears starting to well up in his eyes.

Lestrade noticed the look on Sherlock's face and he knew exactly what Sherlock was thinking because he was thinking it too. The two men sat silently staring at the floor. Neither could look at the other or John for that matter it was just too painful.

When John Watson woke a little while later he saw the doctor picking up his notes that were strewn all over the floor where he had thrown them. "Sorry doctor" he muttered a little embarrassed.

The doctor smiled at him "It's OK. I know this must be very frustrating for you." As the doctor walked over and placed the file back on the cupboard beside John's bed he noticed the thoughtful look on his face. "You alright? You look deep in thought. What is it?"

"I had a dream. I was trying to work out if it was a memory or just a nightmare." he sighed.

"What was it about?" the doctor asked as he sat down "Maybe if you talk about it you'll be able to work it out."

John looked at him "I was on a battlefield. There were explosions and people dying all around me. Then I felt pain, I fell and that was it."

"Well you did serve in Afghanistan and you were shot in the shoulder. That's why you came home. Maybe your nightmare was actually something you saw while you served."

John wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that somewhere in his head his memories still existed and that one day he would find them. One day he would know who he really was.

"Here" the doctor passed a piece of paper to John.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Just a little bit about your service history. A few dates and places might help jog your memory."

"How did you get this?" John demanded. He knew you couldn't just ring up the army and get someone's service history. Was this another one of Sherlock's games? Was this doctor trying to convince him of things that hadn't really happened?

The doctor could see John frowning and knew he was suspicious "There are a lot of people out there Dr Watson who care about you. Obviously they couldn't give me your full record but they did give those few details to see if it would help. So does it?"

John shook his head.

"What about this?" the doctor passed John a photo of a woman. "Do you know who she is?"

John continued to frown looking at the photo for a few moments. "She looks a bit familiar." He was trying to place her, to remember but he just couldn't. "It's no use." he groaned "Who is she?"

"Her name is Ella Thompson. She was your therapist when you came back from Afghanistan. She treated you for PTSD. Maybe you should consider talking to her. After all you would have told her things about yourself during your sessions. Maybe talking to her would help bring some memories back."

The doctor could see he was pushing his luck now. John was still frowning and he noticed his hands had become fists he was obviously struggling to control himself. He stood "John" he said "I made you a promise, no one will enter this room without your permission and that still stands. Just think about what I've said that's all." He gently placed his hand on John's arm reassuringly before he left.

John sat breathing heavily, fighting the anger he felt inside. He stared at the woman's photo. She did look familiar but what if this was just another way for the doctor to provide him with false information about his past. He was tired and frustrated. What if he never knew who he was?