Chapter 1 - Who am I?
The ground felt soft. 'Am I on the ground? No. A bed? think … think … Ah! My head really hurts. Why can't I remember …'
"For the last time John, NO!" bellowed a baritone voice from below. So loud. I tried to move my fingers. Everything hurt.
"Sherlock! You will have to eventually!" said a higher pitched but still masculine voice. I could feel that I was completely clothed including my hands.
'Gloves? A heavy, long coat?' I thought. My eyes remained closed. I didn't want to open them. Everything was so fuzzy. The two men were in the apartment now, arguing.
'Are they coming to take me away?' I thought.
"She's not my daughter!" the baritone voice yelled.
"NO! She's MY daughter and YOUR god-daughter!" yelled the softer man. My headache was getting worse. I opened my mouth to tell them to stop but I could barely pass air through my vocal cords. Everything hurt.
'Am I wearing trousers? This shirt feels too big. What's on my feet?' I thought to myself.
"What does that even mean?" said the baritone voice again.
"Look, I know your are scared."
"I'm not scared!"
"But Please! Can you do this for me!"
The baritone one stopped moving.
"Sherlock! Don't space out on me now," said the higher pitched one. He stopped moving as well.
'At least they have stopped talking,' I thought to myself.
"Sherlock," said the higher pitched one in a whisper. I could feel eyes on me. "Why is there … a person in your bed?"
'Damnit. I have to get out of here. Why am I here? Who are they? And where have I heard that name before?' I thought.
"I don't know," said the one I can assume was Sherlock.
'He sounds, curious … Not good.' I thought.
"Is she dead?" whispered the higher pitched man.
"I don't know, but let's find out John," said Sherlock. He stepped towards the bedroom.
'Damnit.'
I managed to curl my fingers.
"Sherlock she just moved. I saw it. Sherlock, wait," said the one I can now assume was John. Sherlock walked into the bedroom. John was behind him. Now I really didn't want to move.
"Sherlock … why is she wearing your clothes?" said John.
'I am wearing his clothes?!' I thought.
"You think she's a fan?" said John.
'A fan? I would think not. I don't even know who you two are, but I can sense that one of you is about to be very annoying,' I thought.
"Stop talking, John. Look at the shirt and the pants. They are dangerously similar but they are not mine," said Sherlock.
'He talks too much.' I thought. 'Please don't touch me. Please don't touch me.'
Sherlock got closer.
"Yes, but she is obviously dressed like you," said John.
"Obviously," retorted Sherlock. He went to reach for the inside of the coat. I could feel his cold hand brush my side. My eyes flew open. I grabbed his wrist with the adrenaline dump I had just gotten from his mistake and twisted. He yelled. I went for the inside of my coat and found a gun.
'I have a gun?' I thought.
John went for his and pointed it at me.
'Quick reflexes. Cop? No no no, Soldier?' I thought.
Sherlock backed away holding his wrist. "Ok, Ok," he breathed trying to calm me.
"Who are you?" said the soldier. I said nothing and kept the gun on him. Sherlock stepped closer to me and I redirected the gun on him. He backed away.
"It's ok. You are ok. We just want to help you. John put the gun down," said Sherlock.
"Noooo," said John.
"Oh come on John, she's not going to shoot," he said. I fired the gun at John without looking. His gun flew out of his hands.
"JESUS CHRIST SHERLOCK!" said a now very frightened John. I kept the gun on him but I continued to look at Sherlock.
'Where have I seen him before?' I thought. I could see a flash of fear on his face.
"Sherlock! You better not be shooting holes in my wall again!" said an elderly woman from downstairs. I made a confused yet disapproving face at him.
'Again?' I thought.
His hands were up in surrender. He rolled his eyes. "Yes again, don't look at me like that," he said. I let my face relax, but my eyes went wide.
'How the hell did he - '
"Know?" he said finishing my thought. I cocked my head in curiosity, but my eyes were still large, face still serious, my gun still on John. Sherlock put his hands down and stepped towards me. He outstretched a hand for a handshake.
"Hello, I'm Sherlock Holmes," said Sherlock. I pointed the gun at him. He backed up and put his hands back in surrender.
'Cocky, I don't like him,' I thought.
"Sherlock," breathed John who was still in the corner. I shifted my gaze to the soldier and flicked my gun to indicate for him to get out of the room. He proceeded and put his arms up in surrender as well.
"And you thought today was going to be boring," he whispered to Sherlock.
"It was," he whispered back.
"No it wasn't."
"Now it's not."
I fired another shot. Both of them jumped. John gasped out a loud sigh.
"Ok, ok. Can you stop doing that now, please," John said to me with a death stare, "Who are you? What do you want?" I opened my mouth to speak and mouthed the words 'I was about to ask you the same thing' instead. No sound came out.
'What the hell?!' I thought and put my free hand to my throat.
I tried again, but still no sound came out. Then, I noticed the black gloves on my hands and the clothes I was wearing, a very long black coat with a popped collar and petite oxford shoes.
'Are these really his clothes? Well the shoes aren't, they fit me … he's much too tall for them,' I thought and glanced back at him. He looked very polished with a dark suit.
'Show off trying to be cool … I am really not going to like this guy,' I thought.
John and Sherlock shared confused glances at each other before returning to me. Sherlock took a calculated risk and stepped forward.
"You can't speak?" he asked. I looked at the showoff with contempt and fear.
I shook my head gently and mouthed 'I guess not.'
"You guess … not? How could you not know?" he asked curiously while smiling.
"Sherlock, need I remind you she is the one with the gun right now," said John.
'He's trying to stop him from being an idiot. What a good friend,' I thought slyly.
He stepped closer to me with his hands still up. "You do realize that if you are not going to kill us, you will eventually run out of bullets, so let's just make this easier and put the gun down before we do something we might regret," he said to me in a low baritone, yet oddly condescending voice. I reached into the coat again and pulled out another loaded magazine. I lightly taunted him with it, but I too was confused as to why I had it in the first place, so was Sherlock.
"Okay, I'm going to make a deduction. You don't even know why you have that, do you?" he asked me. I shook my head gently while staring at the magazine. "Who are you?" he asked. I looked at him, but said nothing. My mind went blank. I frantically looked around the room for an answer but found nothing. I shook my head.
"You don't know," said a very curious Sherlock.
"You don't know who you are?" said a very shocked John, "Well what the hell do you want then?"
"John how could she know what she wants if she doesn't know who she is?" said Sherlock. I felt as if I could have a panic attack. There was something else in the pocket of the coat. I put the magazine back and pulled out an envelope.
"What's that?" asked John. On the back of it read, "Hello, my name is Zephyr." "Zephyr? That's your name?" said John. I shrug my shoulders and put the gun back in the coat. I was honestly terrified that I couldn't remember anything.
"That's a funny, name," said Sherlock thinking.
'So is Sherlock,' I mouthed sarcastically with a cocked eyebrow. I could feel him looking at me offensively. I opened the envelope and pulled out a card.
"Oh," breathed Sherlock. I looked at his face. He looked genuinely concerned and slightly curious.
"Oh Christ, no," whispered John looking pissed. I was confused.
'What?' I mouthed.
"Where did you get that?" Sherlock said in a very low tone. I looked at the front of the card before opening it. There was a dripping smiley face on it with words.
'Miss me?' I mouthed still confused. "May I see that?" he asked. I decided to give it to him.
Sherlock read it out loud, "Special Delivery. I have one more puzzle for you to solve. Who am I? Solve me to save another." He looked confused. "Who. am. I" he repeated looking at me.
I wondered if that was significant.