It was the first time in his life that Sherlock's mind had gone completely and utterly blank.
There was nothing. No thoughts, no deductions, no ideas whirling about in his head like stars in the night sky. It was just…empty. Blank. There was nothing except the shock, quickly followed by crushing fear and denial so strong that it nearly convinced him he had heard wrong.
And then, something clicked and his mind was suddenly whirling almost too quickly for him to keep up. All he was consciously aware of was how entirely wrong this situation was. This was John he was talking to after all. John Watson, the man who had invaded Afghanistan and had come to London to only become Sherlock's roommate. A man who had survived all of that could not, surely, be defeated by a simple accident. It was impossible.
It was impossible, yet the truth was staring him straight in the face with those deep, unwavering blue eyes.
"Who are you?" John repeated. "Where am I? How did I get here?"
Sherlock stared at him, still not understanding what was going on. How could he not know who Sherlock was? How? They had gotten so close so quickly; it had been like they known each other before they even met. Sherlock hadn't even realized how much he depended on the army doctor until it was too late. And now he would pay the price for his affections.
"Who are you?" John's voice sounded more forceful now and Sherlock was shocked at the distrust he could see in his friend's eyes. John had never treated him this way before. John had never judged; only accepted. And that was the way Sherlock liked it.
"If you don't tell me who you are, I swear I will start screaming-" this time, Sherlock heard him and spoke.
"Please, don't scream." He automatically reached out for his hand, but John pulled away, as tense as a bowstring. The realization dawned on him:
John didn't trust him.
Sherlock sucked in a breath, leaning back. John didn't trust him. Of course, why would he? If he had forgotten everything then he wouldn't know anything about their adventures, or about the fun times they had shared together-
He shook the thoughts away and tried to refocus. Now was not the time for recollection. He had to convince John that he meant him no harm before the nurses realized that he was awake. He had to convince John that they were friends; the best of friends. There was only a few precious moments left to do just that, but he was unsure of how to go about doing it. He had never dealt with anything like this before in his life.
"I- I'm a friend." Sherlock said hesitantly.
"Really." John said, expression guarded. "How do I know if I can believe you? I don't even know your name."
There was a slight pause, and then his eyes widened in horror. "I don't even know my name. What's my name? Where am I? How did I get here?" John became more panicked with every question and his voice had increased considerably in volume.
"Calm down," Sherlock said.
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.
"Calm down?" John repeated incredulously. "Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down when I don't even know who I am-?"
"I will explain everything to you, I promise. Just, please, lower your voice. I don't want the nurses to come in." Sherlock said.
"The nurses? Am I in- in a hospital?" John asked. He looked around the room as if taking in his surroundings for the first time. He stared at the machines next to the bedside table with wide eyes.
"Yes you are, as a matter of fact." Sherlock said. "You were in an accident and you have been out cold for several hours. This is the first time you've been conscious since coming here."
John just stared at him. Nothing was said for a moment, but then he reached up to touch the bandage wrapped around his head. He took a deep breath.
"No wonder I feel like I've been run over by a bus." He muttered. "I literally have."
Sherlock lifted a corner of his mouth; he almost sounded like normal John there. The normal John who knew Sherlock for who he was and put up with every single one of his many annoying habits and experiments. Suddenly, his heart clenched as if being squeezed and he had a difficult time catching his breath.
"H-hey! Are you alright?"
John's voice broke through his thoughts, but then the overbearing pressure returned and he struggled to inhale. Despair hung over him like a storm, and thoughts he hadn't remembering thinking before arose. John, the warm friendly John who was like the sun's rays on a pleasant afternoon, was gone. And in his place was this- this- this stranger who didn't know anything about anything! Sherlock might as well be sitting next to his brother because he shared nothing with this alien who had somehow taken over John's body and forced him to forget everything. Everything being mainly, Sherlock Holmes.
"Oh, jeesh, no. Please don't pass out on me. God, please don't- Nurse!" John yelled at the door. He had reached forward and placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, something he had not noticed through the shock, and it felt nice. It felt warm.
Sherlock looked at John through the emotional pain, and felt himself go still as John turned back to him. Regardless of what had happened to him, it was still John's eyes that looked at him, it was still his worried expression and small frown.
He was still John, even without his memories, Sherlock thought numbly. He still acted the same as he would have before the accident, and if that was true, could there still be hope that his memories could be brought back? Could they, in time, be able to rebuild their relationship?
The door slammed open, scaring both of them. John pulled away from Sherlock once more as the nurse neared, her bright red high heels clicking against the tile loudly.
"What is it? Is there something wrong-? Oh!" she caught sight of John, conscious and looking slightly alarmed at the noisy woman before him. The room had been quiet before, even when John's voice had risen, but now it seemed suffocating with the arrival of the nurse. Sherlock tried to withdraw into himself, feeling claustrophobic.
"You're awake!" the woman stated stupidly, and it took all of his concentration to not roll his eyes. Obviously John was awake, couldn't she say something more interesting instead of stating what was right in front of her nose?
"Uh, well, er, yes," John stuttered. He went red and Sherlock smirked. John had never been good in front of women. Apparently, that was another characteristic unchanged.
"Oh, this is wonderful news!" she gushed, her eyes warming. "I must go tell the doctor-" she stopped short at the sight of Sherlock and narrowed her eyes. Sherlock, on the other hand, did his best to smile pleasantly but only succeeded in a sneer.
"You are not supposed to be here." The woman said angrily. "How did you get in here? Who let you in?"
"Would you think I was lying if I said the doctor let me in?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes," she said immediately.
"Then it doesn't quite matter what I say, does it? Either you think I'm lying or I end up lying anyway." Sherlock said with a wave of his hand. John snorted, surprising the other two. Sherlock smiled slightly as the nurse stammered. This John understood his dry humor, just as the old John had. Interesting.
"Either way, you must go now. As I said before-"
"Yes, yes, I know. I am not supposed to be in here." Sherlock said. "But since I am in here anyway, could you find it in your good heart to allow me to stay-?"
"No," she said coldly. She pointed at the door. "You must go. Now. Or else we will make sure you will not be able to visit your friend ever again."
Sherlock was taken aback by the threat. She obviously meant it, he thought as he gazed at her serious expression. And he wasn't about to put his opportunities to see John in jeopardy. Especially now since he knew John didn't remember anything about their past.
He sighed, and stood up. There would be plenty of time to see John later, he reminded himself. He would just have to be patient.
"As you wish," he said to the nurse who watched him skeptically. "I will go, but I will return. I will see you later, John. I promise." He nodded to his friend. John started at his name, and he blinked up at Sherlock, surprise written all over his face. It took him a moment to realize that John had not known his own name until he had just mentioned it in passing.
Sherlock turned to walk away, taking large strides toward the door. Despite this minor setback, he had learned many things about the amnesic John before any of the doctors had the chance to speak to him. For one thing, the John Watson in the hospital bed- despite not remembering anything- was still the John Watson that Sherlock had grown to trust. He still reacted the way Sherlock would expect him to, and he still had the same characteristics the old John had. And it was because of this that Sherlock knew their relationship could still exist as it had. They had become friends before without knowing each other, and they could do it all over again. Sherlock was determined to keep John by his side. And that was how it was going to be, even if it took years to do it.
"Wait!" John's voice called after him. He paused, one hand on the doorknob, and looked back. John was sitting straight up, staring at him with wide, panicked eyes.
"You'll return, right?" John asked, as if he needed reassurance.
"Of course," Sherlock said.
John opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then he stopped. There was a hesitant expression on his face.
"What is it?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't even know your name." John admitted, turning pink again.
Sherlock blinked, and immediately he was brought back to the lab where he had first met John Watson. He had been so professional that day, standing tall although he was still over a head shorter than Sherlock, and leaning on a cane with a limp that was purely psychosomatic. Fresh out of Afghanistan with nothing to prove. He had been so different from the John now, who was in a white bed and couldn't even sit up in bed without getting dizzy.
"The name is Sherlock Holmes." He heard himself say. John nodded, as if expecting it, and sat back into the pillows, shutting his tired eyes. Sherlock took that as a goodbye. He turned the knob and walked out the room, leaving the nurse to fuss over his friend.
Patience had never been Sherlock's strong suit. But for John Watson, he could do it.
###IBelieveInSherlock###
5/13/12
Wow, I'm actually posting the second chapter after three months of nothing. I know, I'm a terrible person; I am so sorry for everyone who waited so long for the next part. I don't know how long this story will be, or how often I'm going to update it, but for now I'm just going to write when I feel like it and see how it goes. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC show, Sherlock.