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CHAPTER 2 - Good Lord, The Purple Shirt

Tabitha's mouth popped open for the second time in the last few minutes. A year and three months? That wasn't possible. As a matter-of-fact, this man wasn't possible. John Watson was a fictional character, played by Martin Freeman in her favorite show. He was also played by Jude Law in the movies! Maybe this was a dream, but all the pinching and prodding from before had hurt. She had never been hurt in her dreams.

"The last thing I remember was laying on my couch, watching Sherlock, and the storm made my power go out. I answered the door and then I was here! How can that happen in a year and three months? You aren't real, John Watson!" Tabitha felt herself slowly slipping into a panic attack. The room seemed to get small, and she started to take deep breaths. She couldn't seem to breathe in enough.

"Watching Sherlock -? Tabitha, breathe, slowly!" John put his hands on her cheeks and looked her in the eyes. "Breathe… slowly…" She followed his lead as he took a few slow and steady breaths. It took a moment, and she didn't notice the two detectives that came to stand in the doorway. Another figure was behind them, but she couldn't make him out. He seemed to be watching from behind the door frame.

"Watching Sherlock," she heard him mumble when she was back to breathing normally. She swallowed, and took the glass on the table next to her. She gulped down the glass of water, sighing and wiping her mouth when she was finished. Tabitha looked at the detectives and groaned. It had to be a dream. It had to be. Might as well go with it.

"Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade," she stated with a smug grin on her face. Her favorite characters from her favorite show were all standing in her hospital room. Tabitha turned her attention to the woman next to him, as the man looked surprised that she knew him. "Sally Donovan, a judgmental, bitchy woman who doesn't know when to lay off." She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head slowly in an over-the-top disappointed way.

"How dare you!" the woman growled, stepping forward. There was a chuckle behind them, and John seemed to be keeping in a laugh himself. Lestrade put his arm out to stop her, and Donovan stepped back onto place with a glare in her eyes. "I've dealt with Freak all day, I don't need this."

"The patient is having … memory problems, Detective Donovan. She has a head injury," Dr. Watson explained with a smile on his face. He winked at Tabitha and then nodded toward the figure behind the two detectives. Tabitha knew who it was, but didn't dear to look. She wondered what outfit he was going to be wearing – the purple shirt, or the black shirt, or the…

"Ah, I see. We checked out your name, since you don't have any identification on you, and we didn't come up with anything," Lestrade said, getting to the point. He put his hands in his pockets. Donovan sent a look with raised eyebrows, as if to say 'now what, bitch?' to Tabitha. Lestrade continued while the doctor and the other person kept quiet. "We also checked you under facial recognition, and you aren't in our database, or the American database."

"What?" Tabitha asked. This was a weird non-dream. It was like she didn't exist.

"You don't exist. At all," the deep melodic voice answered, stepping into the room around the detectives. Tabitha swallowed and stared at his face. His eyes were sharp, studying her intently, and his hands were in the pocket of his long black coat. Tabitha couldn't remember the exact name of it. The signature scarf was around his neck, and today he was wearing the purple shirt. Good lord, the purple shirt.

"You should try a green scarf, mix it up a bit," she commented with a tilt of her head, looking at the hollow of his neck. She was getting aroused, and he'd only said five words. She looked back at his eyes, and his face turned into boredom. She shrugged. "It would match your eyes. A bit. Maybe." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Anyway," John said, getting everyone's attention. He sat the clipboard by her feet on the bed. "What do you mean she isn't there? She has to be… right?"

"Unless she knows people who can wipe her face off the Earth," Sherlock stated in a calm and rational voice.

"Honestly, I don't! I'm a librarian!" she spread her arms out. "Do I look like I'm the type to go on the run?" She raised an eyebrow as they studied her.

"No."

"Yes."

Sherlock said the first one, Donovan said the second one, and they said it at the same time. They looked at each other, and Sherlock rolled his eyes at her. He gestured toward the patient in the bed with a smirk.

"Look, really look!" he said with a bit of intensity. Tabitha grinned.

"You're going to deduce me, aren't you?" she couldn't help but smile. It was her favorite part about Sherlock. His amazing deduction skills. He looked at her, almost like he was judging her face when she said that. She kept grinning at him. "You won't believe me if I told you the truth. Go ahead, do it."

"The truth?" Lestrade asked, but everyone ignored him as Sherlock took a second to study her and then started on his famous quick-paced comments.

"Late twenties, widow from the rings on the chain around her neck, American, Midwest by her accent, no major family considering she isn't asking to see them, educated with a degree in library science and a degree in business administration, not a very social woman, but doesn't mind to be around people if they don't show her too much annoying attention, she was knocked unconscious by an invisible assailant, taken from her home right before bed time, and loves M&Ms."

Everyone was silent, until Tabitha spoke up.

"Amazing. Amazing! Why can't you guys appreciate him more than you do?" she chuckled, speaking to the detectives with that last part.

"That still doesn't tell us why she isn't in any database in the world," Sherlock continued, a smirk on his face. Tabitha hoped that he didn't find her too dull or annoying at the moment. He tilted his head as he studied her some more. "Possibly her kidnappers didn't want her to be found."

"Have you, you know…" Tabitha made a motion that meant 'explosion' with her hands. Sherlock looked at her a bit confused, as did everyone else. "You know. Splat!" she said, using her hands again. Everyone made a murmur about finally getting it, and Dr. Watson chuckled.

"Yes. It's been three years," he answered. "But, back to you, alright? You need to stay here for another night just so I can make sure you aren't…"

"Hallucinating? Speaking to my imaginary friends? Fantasizing about Sherlock?" Tabitha quipped. Everyone whipped their head to her face when she said the last one. Donovan rolled her eyes and gave Sherlock a dirty look. She just grinned and smiled at them. This was fun! She usually wasn't this forthright, but it was her dream, right? She could do what she wanted. Sherlock choose to ignore her comment.

"Yes…" Watson answered slowly. He turned to their company. "Alright, scatter you lot, figure it out." He looked pointedly at Sherlock.

"I'll stay here. If the kidnappers erased her from existence, she means something to them. Don't want to be kidnapped again, do we?" he said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. The detectives grumbled, saying they would come by the next day with any news they might find. They asked for the clothing she had been found in, and John gave him a paper bag. Tabitha sat quietly as they left. Sherlock shut the door, and sat down in the chair on the other side of where John was standing. He lifted his hands in a prayer-like fashion, his fingers touching his lips.

"Yes, Sherlock?" she asked. She'd seen the show too many times not to realize when he wanted to make a comment.

"You're hiding something." She raised an eyebrow, and sighed. Tilting her head back, she looked at the ceiling as she tried to tell them what really happened. After a few long moments, John's beeper went off. "You act like we've met."

"I need to get that. Alright here?" he asked her.

"Of course. I've got him," she answered, motioning her head toward the staring Sherlock. John just nodded with an incredulously look and left, closing the door back behind him. Tabitha turned back to her last visitor. "You won't believe me if I tell you. You'll probably send me to the looney bin."

"I can figure it out," he tried to threaten. She laughed, and he furrowed his brows.

"Really, you can't, you think it'll be quiet impossible," she told him knowingly. He waited, just staring. She wasn't sure what was going on in his lovely mind, but Tabitha couldn't handle him just staring at her, waiting. "Fine! I'll tell you. Don't interrupt until I say I'm finished." He nodded his consent, and leaned back.

"It was June 1st, 2013, when I was hit with something at my front door. There was a knock, around nine at night, and I ignored it. The knock happened again, but more urgent. I had a candle – it was storming and the power went out. I opened the door, no one was there. The bushes rustled, so I turned to the… right. And then I was hit. Bam. Then I wake up in the alley with paramedics huddling over me."

Sherlock opened his mouth, but Tabitha beat him to it.

"Hey, I didn't say I was done!" He leaned back again, concentrating more on her story. She knew he was watching her reactions and body movements, as well. She wasn't going to lie – her story was too crazy not to be true. This was a dream, right? "The strange thing was what I was doing before the power went out." Sherlock looked a bit more drawn in. Tabitha paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to say it. She sighed. "I was watching a TV show, from the BBC. The actors are Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman." Sherlock looked bored, rolled his eyes, and made to stand up. "It's called Sherlock."

He stopped and sat back down.

"I'm done."

"A television show named... Sherlock," he repeated. Tabitha nodded. "Never heard of it." He squinted his eyes at her.

"I know. Either this is a dream, or I got sucked into the show. I bet if you check out information on your phone, it won't exist." Sherlock started to chuckle, and then pushed himself up.

"Of course, you got sucked into a television about me. Why didn't I see that?" he asked sarcastically, turning toward the door. Tabitha started to panic – of course he didn't believe her. She frantically thought about the show, something that only Sherlock would know had happened, and the viewers.

"You saved Irene from getting her head chopped off!" she whispered loudly. He stopped at the door, and turned around slowly. "The last words you said before that were 'When I say run, run,'" Tabitha quoted. "It was a scene on the television show. I assume no one knows, unless you confessed to saving The Woman to people after you came back from the dead."

Tabitha felt herself holding her breath as he stared down at her, in front of the closed door. He slowly took out his phone, and looked down, typing something. After a few moments, he furrowed his brows. He looked back up to her.

"There are no such people as this… Cumberbatch and Freeman," he said slowly. "No such thing as this 'show' you were watching."

"How else would I know about your Irene Adler secret?" Tabitha answered with a smile. "I like her. She was smart, rather attractive, and definitely not boring at all. Too bad she was a lesbian, you would make pretty babies. Or, maybe not, she'd chew you up and spit you out." Tabitha laughed.

"I won," Sherlock said, pointedly, in that low voice of his. He leaned back against the door, not entirely convinced, but convinced enough that something was going on to stay.

"You still came to her rescue."

"You were watching."

"Really? Do I look smarter than you and Mycroft?" she asked.

"Definitely not smarter, but you have above average intelligence. How do you know my brother?"

"No, I just live in another dimension of sorts," Tabitha answered. "Like I said, from the TV show. He's not as scary as he likes himself to think, is he? The actor who plays him is gay – is Mycroft gay?" Sherlock chuckled a bit at that, but didn't answer.

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