Chapter 4 More questions

AN After some suggestions from my readers I got the idea to change Mike Stamford into a Slitheen. Thinking this over I decided against it. John doesn't have many friends and losing Sherlock almost killed him. And now losing another. I had not the heart to do it. After all, real friends are very scarce. But. If you like this idea, feel free to use it.

With a yawn John stretched his arms wide and slowly opened his eyes. It was dark. Slowly he came to his senses. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he saw the silhouette of Sherlock sitting opposite him in his chair. Slowly his mind started working again and he thought of what might have happened. Why was he not in his bed. Why were they sleeping in their chairs. What happened? Were they extremely tired? When did they fall asleep in the first place? It must have been light otherwise they would have switched on a lamp. He stood up and switched on the lamp and walked over to Sherlock to see if there were any injuries. When he didn't find anything but Sherlock still sleeping, he guessed that they must have been drugged. How. They were in the house. The last memory he had that they were in St. Barts this morning, working on Sherlock's experiment. If they went home after it, when did they leave? He couldn't remember that bit. Or were they drugged in St. Barts and brought over to their house. But who would do such a thing. And then again, Mycroft then must have noticed something, so that couldn't be it. He tried to wake him up, but Sherlock didn't respond. Well, when he thought this over, they must have given Sherlock more, considering his experience with drugs in the past. They didn't want to kill them, so he guessed Sherlock would wake up in a few hours. He felt a little nauseous. Mmm. He looked at his watch. it was almost eleven o'clock. He saw the mugs on the table. It must have been afternoon then when they passed out. Well, that explains his nauseous. He must eat. Hopefully something eatable was in the fridge. Most shops were closed now.

He walked over to the fridge and opened it. The first thing what caught his eye was a translucent plastic box which contained two hands. A big one and a small one. Male and female if he guessed right. Did they had anything to do with Sherlock research in St. Barts? Yeah, St. Barts. Their sleepiness had something to do with St. Barts. Well, he didn't have the answers, so he guessed that Sherlock would come up with them. He saw some eggs, cheese, and a leftover from a Chinese takeaway from yesterday. He could make a meal from that.

Ten minutes later, he walked over to his chair and ate this creative meal. It wasn't bad at all and there was enough left for Sherlock if he wanted some. But he had to go shopping again tomorrow. Another night like this and they would starve cause lack of food. And then the milk. They were running out of milk. Again. Tea without milk, well, that was not his cup of tea. He sighed. He saw his newspaper on his side table and he might as well read it. He hadn't done that yet.

A few hours later Sherlock began to yawn. He opened his eyes and saw John looking at him. His mind started spinning. The questions John had asked himself flew with the speed of light through Sherlock's mind. But he had more. He knew that he hadn't finished his experiment, otherwise his conclusion would have been stored in his mind palace and it wasn't. And the fact that he had slept for more than 8 hours in a chair. That wasn't him. It was light when they were at St. Barts. But now there were teacups on the table. John just ate a meal. Why hadn't Mrs. Hudson paid them a visit. She usually brought them tea around six. Or sometimes she walked in around eight. And now it had been half past one.

As if he hadn't been passed out for the last eight hours, Sherlock stood up with the speed of light and ran of the stairs to Mrs. Hudson's apartment. He picked her lock and opened her door. John, curious why Sherlock ran away so sudden, had followed him downstairs and saw him unlocking her door.

"Sherlock, you can't just walk in so bluntly. Suppose she sleeps naked."

"You're a doctor. You have seen a lot of naked bodies. You couldn't be embarrassed by it" Sherlock stated that fact. Then he walked in, in search for Mrs. Hudson. As he watched every room, he found her in her bedroom, lying on her bed, fully clothed, in a deep sleep.

John knew Sherlock never showed any feelings but he never expected this. He heard a sigh of relief coming from Sherlock's mouth. He wouldn't have guessed that he cared so much for his landlady/housekeeper. Then he became embarrassed by the fact that he hadn't considered the fact that maybe Mrs. Hudson was also attacked by their mysterious drug supplier(s). He could have checked on her earlier and he should have. He walked over to her and examined her. Fortunately there was nothing wrong with her, except she slept deeply. Well, he guessed that because she was elderly and not used to 'drugs' her body responded to it by more sleep. He would check on her in the morning to make sure.

They left her and walked up to their room again. John walked over to the kitchen and made Sherlock a creative meal. When he put that before him, Sherlock frowned.

"You must eat."

"No, I'm not hungry."

"I don't care if you're hungry or not, but you will eat this. The last time I ate was this morning and when I woke up I was nauseous cause lack of food. You ate two days ago and with this day gone by it is three. I insist." John gave him a severe look. And then I want answers.

Sherlock reluctantly ate his dinner and saw John looking at him. Despite the fact that he didn't want any food, he was glad he had some in front of him. John wanted answers and he couldn't give them to him. He frowned. He slowly ate his meal. This way he tried to buy himself some time but it was inevitable. He had to confess he didn't know.

"John, I can't give you any answers. I don't know who drugged us and I don't know why. I can tell you when and where. During teatime in our own house. They administered it in the tea in our flat. Otherwise, why drug Mrs. Hudson. She must have opened the door for him/her/them. Her memory had to be wiped as well just like ours. We left St. Barts this morning but I didn't finish my experiment."

John wanted to ask how he knew this, but then he thought it over. Of course. Sherlock would know the results. If he hadn't any, than it wasn't ready.

"But why would we leave. You worked for two days on that experiment. Leaving it behind certainly will influence the results."

Sherlock took his phone. There were no messages from Lestrade. The only thing he saw was a call from his brother. Well.

"I think John that something happened at St. Barts. We left in the middle of our experiment and we went home. That something was big, cause our memories have been compromised. The only thing on my phone is a call from my brother. You're aware that Mycroft is watching our house. The fact that we are inside and no lights were on didn't bother him to order his minions to check on us. Conclusion. He knows. If I'm correct, he ordered it."

"He ordered it? Bloody hell. You drugging me is to some point. I'm still mad that you decide to use me as a guinea pig sometimes. But him? The bastard."

After a few seconds he said: "Can you retrieve it? It must be somewhere in your mind palace. They can't just delete information out of our brains, can they?"

Sherlock immediately entered his mind palace but after a while he opened his eyes and looked at John.

John knew the answer. The memory was gone. "First thing tomorrow we go to St Barts. We ask Molly if something happened there. Maybe she knows.

Sherlock walked over to his laptop. He opened it and hoped he would find a clue that would give him answers. And there it was. Right in front of him. His internet history had been deleted. The person/persons who had wiped their memory thought about the internet history. How? His laptop was password protected. Sure his search for some government document had triggered Mycroft and 'them' and knew that they had to delete the evidence, but... Sherlock had also used John's during his search. No idea why he switched during his search. Maybe John had protested. Again. But John's history wasn't compromised. They hadn't thought of that. A big grin appeared on his face. Oh, brother, this is fun for there it was;

Jack Harkness, captain.

Though there wasn't a hit on the net, so it had been in the files. Definitively high class stuff. After all they were drugged to hide that information. Did they had an encounter with the man? If so, where? And why would he search the net. What was special about this captain. Or was there a case in which the man was mentioned. No, that wasn't the case. Who was he. They must have met him at St. Barts because he left his experiment. He would never do that. The man must have triggered something. Sherlock's eyes started to sparkle. He steepled his fingers under his chin and grinned. The fact that his experiment had failed didn't bother him at all. He had a new 'case'. To find out who captain Jack Harkness was and why they had been drugged to hide this meeting.

Molly! Molly definitively had to know the man. After all. His experiment was in the lab where Molly was working. She also must have met him.

He took his phone and called her.

As soon as the phone started ringing, she picked it up. A sleepy voice answered. "Molly."

"Molly," his voice sounded smooth. "I'm so sorry to call you at this time, but I wanted to know if you're ok?"

"Sherlock?" Her voice sounded startled.

"Yes, it's me. Are you ok Molly?"

"Yes, I'm ok. Why do you ask?"

"Did you sleep this afternoon? Or did you sleep this evening?"

"No, why should I."

Sherlock heard her reply. Her voice started to become irritated. Irritated? Molly never sounded irritated. Why would she be irritated. Because he called her? He asked if she was fine. According to John, that was good behaviour. He had to think this over.

"Ok, Molly. It's good to hear your fine. I'm sorry I woke you up. Sleep well."

"Well?"

Sherlock looked up and saw John sitting in his chair, watching him. He guessed because they had slept during the day that John was awake, just as he was.

"Why would she be irritated, John? I asked if she was ok."

John sighed. Didn't it occur to you that it is in the middle of the night? People usually sleep in the middle of the night. If you're woken up by a phone call just to be asked if you're ok, you'll get cranky too."

"She didn't sleep this afternoon or evening. They haven't given her drugs."

"You're sure it has something to do with St. Barts."

"Yes John. My internet history has been deleted probably because I poked around in Mycroft's files. But yours was intact. But yours I only used for searching the net. And yours said captain Jack Harkness. Conclusion. Something happened at St. Barts. I left my experiment and went home. Or at least we were home before tea. I hadn't had any phone calls from Lestrade, but one call from my brother. We have been drugged. Molly on the other hand hasn't been drugged. And she was there this morning. She knows what happened there. Within a few hours we go over to her and ask her about the captain."

He walked up to the window and took his violin and started playing. A soft smile on his face.