Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 18
A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers and amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story however is my original thought, and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
** Thank you; Esstell, Lunita28, eohippus, Prothoe, hJohn302, Burning Phoenix, Puky2012, Voldemort101, and Jenna Yemowa, for you review and PMs of the last post. You are really encouraging.
Thank you briongloid fiodoir, bruderlein, socalrose , danishprince, Nietzsches, Warm-Glow, drpaz, April29Roses, ShiverandShamy, christistina, waterbaby, 84, Peacefreakx3, and Nietzsches and for your review and PMs. Cyber cheer! **
****SORRY this is late posting. My traitorous body had enough and decided to be sick. I now know that I am officially among the ranks of the obsessed when in-between semiconscious states, I weakly pulled myself up to type and loved every moment of typing. (That is sickness on a different level.) I already have other chapters written but found many mistakes. I am rereading now and I will have it up very soon.
Love to all, (cough) Zacha
T rated but some future chapters may be M.
REQUEST ALERT: One of you requested something; look for it in these chapters. (Smile)
Current Day
A woman looked out the window of the airplane as it made a landing. She traveled far and was a little fatigued. Her arm brushed against the seat as she reached for the phone on the side of the wall. It rang briefly but was quickly answered.
"Is everything arranged?"
"Yes, when will you be arriving?" The voice on the other end asked.
She glanced at her watch before answering, "In forty to forty-five minutes. I can afford no delays."
"Yes, Mum." The voice said.
She hung up the phone as thoughts twirled in her mind.
"It is interesting to notice how some minds seem almost to create themselves, springing up under every disadvantage,
and working their solitary but irresistible way through a thousand obstacles."~ Washington Irving
Two Weeks Later
Current Day
He pushed the silk sheets aside. He stared at the ceiling and sighed. He was bored, confined to a bedroom. The attached bathroom was the only other room that he was allowed into without permission. He was not only bored but felt off balanced as well. No clock, the mirror had been removed from the bathroom the next day that he woke up. He was too tired to look at it the first day he awoke and only noticed because of the holes left in the wall.
A new change of pajama pants every day. He was not allowed any shoes. Never a shirt or dressing gown. It's not that he was cold, the temperature was pleasant but he felt exposed. Their only concession was to take out the guards that were eyeing him day and night. They now stood just outside the door. There were no phones of any kind, no computer, and no contact with anything outside of the admittedly beautiful room. He was surrounded by custom made or designer everything down to the underwear pants. A very lavish prison.
Someone wanted to keep him off-balanced and feeling dependent. The off-balanced was working but instead of feeling dependent, he felt imprisoned. He came to a decision. They were about to find out that he did not do imprisoned well.
He looked toward the windows. He was feeling stronger and the guards were becoming more annoyed with him. He wondered not remembering if he often annoyed people.
It was almost time for her to come judging by the position of the sun. She came every day, three times a day. She was annoying and her questions redundant but she was a living person to talk to.
No one explained anything to him despite their promises. All answers seemed vague and contrived, maybe even deceptive. But, how could he be sure of this? He did not know his own name, how could he trust his own mind.
Yet, he did trust it.
He knew things and was able to notice mannerisms in people. He learned that he was determined, stubborn, inquisitive, private, and maybe too straight forward. He knew he had a genius IQ and He took in everything, too much in fact. It was almost painful, more like a curse than a blessing. His head would pound in pain. He had to close his eyes sometimes to control the data flow as he tried to process it all.
There were times when he would sit still in the dark trying to categorize it all. It gave him time to process. He assumed he had learned to do this long ago but it was as if he was a child relearning things all over again.
He walked over to the window with the slightest of limps. It was his favorite place to be.
He glanced around the room and sighed. It was a beautiful cage but a cage nonetheless. He looked out his window and saw a red winged black bird escape the foliage and fly away.
"I envy you." He whispered. He felt like a trapped bird. To be free and soar to the heavens was his desire.
He wished he had something to throw. The crack as it sounded against the walls would be satisfying. He wished he had something in his hands, maybe a gun. What would he do with it he wondered? He would not actually shoot someone would he? He looked at the walls. However, the walls, he could shoot the walls. Maybe make a smiley face. He chuckled at the ridiculous thought. Who would actually do such a silly thing?
He looked at the wires almost hidden around the window casing. It was almost invisible to the naked eyes; he raised an eyebrow. He had the illusion of freedom but he was a prisoner. All the excuses and fast-talking on their parts could not convince him otherwise. He smiled and put his hands on the window.
Of course, someone would know that he had opened them.
"Let's test that theory, shall we," he said to himself quietly. He was determined to get answers. He knew that he might regret what he was about to do, but…
He looked. He was on ground level. It was a small drop to the outside, and then a slope. He was stronger now but he still had a slight limp and would not get far because he was weak. He would probably not even make it out the window. At least it would get their attention. He frowned as he considered the fact that getting their attention may not be a good thing.
"Here goes insanity," he said to himself as he opened the window in one swift move and pulled half his body through. His injured leg slowed him down as he suspected. Hands came around his waist and pulled him roughly in.
He discovered another new thing about himself at that moment. He could fight. He took out one of the guard's legs from under him as a loud thump was heard. Another hand grabbed him but he elbowed that guard in the gut. He heard curses floating in his ears from that side. Yet another hand grabbed at him. He pushed upward with the palm of his hand and a crunch sound was heard as guard number three grunted with pain. The guard reflectively let go and put his hands protectively over his bleeding nose. Before he could enjoy his victory, He was tackled from behind.
He was done as he felt the air being violently expelled from his lungs. He was still recovering so his burst of physical energy was short lived. He lay on the ground trying to catch his breath and ride the wave of pain that was radiating throughout his chest and left leg.
He heard footsteps in the room. He could not stop his mind from processing.
High-heeled shoes, woman.
No, women
More footsteps.
Three today.
Three persons.
The first is Doctor Yáng.
The second is from a five-foot, nine inch woman, athletic.
The third is from a five-foot, four inch woman who smoked a pack a day, sedentary lifestyle.
He turned his head only to look at them. His hands were still wrenched behind his back. How did he know that from just their footsteps, he wondered frowning. Somehow, he knew that he was correct.
He was pulled up and deposited none too gently in the chair. Two hands firmly pressed on his shoulders, kept him in place. They had nothing to worry about, he was exhausted, his unmoving healing body unable to do any more damage.
He tried to even out his breathing. His eyes traveled in a way that he hoped was discreet to the taller dark haired assistant. He was not sure why. Something about her tickled his mind. What was it?
"… Are you not going to answer me now?"
He quickly recovered. "Let's be fair, you have not answered any of my questions."
"Mr… Sir, we have to do a systematic treatment plan. It's for your benefit, your care."
"That's the third time now, Doctor Yáng." He looked intently at her.
"What…" Doctor Yáng asked confused.
"The third time that you almost said my name? Do you care to share what it is, where I am, or perhaps why I am a prisoner in this room? Who is the man in the suit ? We have some history don't we, is it good or is it bad? We can start with any one of those questions, you pick."
He looked at the petite Asian woman. He would have considered her beautiful if it was not for two general considerations. The first was the fact that she was lying to him. The second was that behind that sweet little smile lay a personality that was capable of murder, torture, mayhem and general chaos all before morning tea.
He looked her in the eyes as she spoke. He felt this; it was not something she said. It was what she was trying with difficulty not to say.
His eyes again traveled to the dark haired woman. He was careful to look away after only a glance. He was ignoring the doctor as she spoke. He was paying more attention to her expressions instead of words. Now her movement drew his attention back completely.
"… All in good time." She finished saying. Doctor Jenna Yáng pulled out her notepad and started to write.
Someone brought him tea. "You should drink your tea." She stated casually.
"Everyone is always sticking a teacup in my face. I'll tell you if I need liquids." He said a little too sweetly.
"Your body is still recovering from major blood loss. I understand that you feel stronger, but that can be deceptive. You need lots of fluids." She kept writing.
"Wouldn't water be a better choice if it is dehydration that you're worried about?" It was not really a question.
"Will it be necessary to bring the IV fluids and strap you down while we make sure that you don't kill yourself?" She stopped writing and stared at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Two lumps of sugar please." He said dryly.
"We know." She gave a slight nod and someone moved in the background.
The sugar and cream were added to the tea. He drank it. It was too sweet. "I said two lumps not three…" He stopped speaking and looked at her.
"Drugged." He stated calmly as he blinked suddenly.
She looked as if she was about to deny it then thought better. "Just something to make you relax. Finish it. This way is much more pleasant. Trust me."
He put the cup down on the table defiantly. He expected it to be forced down his throat but was surprised that it was not.
Something flashed in her eyes for a second then it was gone.
"Back to the questions," she said a little too pleasantly. "Are the headaches getting worse?" Sherlock stared wordlessly at her.
She seemed to take it in stride. "Do you remember any vivid dreams?" He frowned but said nothing. "Do faces flash before your eyes, names, do you look at someone and have a feeling as if you know them?"
She looked at him intently. "Do you have a feeling as if something or someone important is missing?"
His body stiffened before he could stop it. He said nothing.
"Come, you must cooperate in your medical care, or do you enjoy all the attention that having memory loss gives you."
Sherlock body remained still. He moved his eyes only from the wall to Doctor Yáng. A look that used to make most suspects that he was interrogating cringe. It had the opposite effect on her. She smiled. She almost seemed to enjoy his anger.
She abruptly nodded and stood up. She left the room as well as the guards and her assistants.
He sighed relieved when they left the room. He picked up the teacup and took it to the bathroom. He dumped it down the sink after he dipped his finger in it. He hesitated for a moment then shrugged. He already took two large gulps; one more drop on the tip of his finger would not make any difference. He tasted it and concentrated. It was not anything that he believed he could identify.
He swallowed. His mouth felt suddenly dry. He put his mouth to the faucet and partially wrapped his mouth around it drinking in. He suddenly could not get enough water. Finally satisfied he turned the water faucet off. He was starting to get sleepy and his thought mottled. An effect of the drug he was sure. He wondered what would have happened if he drank the entire thing?
He shook his head and stumbled to the bed. He wished that there was some way to lock the door, but it only locked from the outside not the inside. He apparently was not the first person to be locked in that room.
He scarcely had time to process another thought as he fell to the bed. He rolled to stare at the ceiling as his eyes, against his will...
… Closed.