Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 97
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.
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"…Stalemate is when your opponent cannot legally move any of their pieces, but their king is not under attack. That's a draw (no one wins)
…. Our New Game …
"Toughness is in the soul and spirit, not in muscles." ~ Alex Karras
Present Day
Present Times
Both men made their way slowly to the living room. The fact that Sherlock was leaning heavily on John was an indicator of how weak the normally independent Consultant Detective was.
"Almost there," John said encouragingly. He understood that being in his room day and night on his best day would drive Sherlock to irritation. Today was not his best day. Sherlock did not say anything, but concentrated on walking.
They finally made it to the couch and gracelessly sat down. Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed in and out deeply as he tried to bring his traitorous body under control.
Finally, after a few minutes, he opened his eyes and spoke in a breathy voice. "See… John… I told you that I was able to do it."
John raised his eyebrows and looked at Sherlock as he smiled. "How could I ever doubt you Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock smiled then chuckled at the use of his last name.
John looked at Sherlock. The side of his face had a hint of a bruise that had started to change colors. His body looked the same with bruises in different stages of healing. He was pale on his best days, but he looked almost ghostly today. Still, Sherlock was a fast healer and doing well. The fact that he was bored was a healthy sign. John also had a feeling that Sherlock had some sort of mischief planned, he just could not figure out what that was yet.
John raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Save that innocent look for someone who doesn't know you Sherlock, you're not fooling anyone. What's this about? What mischief have you planned for us today?"
Sherlock looked at John smiling. "Can't I get a little exercise without you becoming suspicious?"
John snorted but did not say a word. The strange sound caused Sherlock to chuckle again.
He stopped chuckling but held on to his smile and looked into John's eyes. "Thank you John."
John waited for the unintended insult that always followed a compliment. It did not come.
John frowned. He looked Sherlock up and down more closely.
"I'm fine John." Sherlock said with what was supposed to be an annoyed look. It lost its intimidation as he stifled a yawn.
Sherlock stiffened and gasped as he closed his eyes and clutched his head. He heard John calling his name. John's voice sounded far away.
Sherlock had an image in his mind of himself in a room. Within seconds, the pain was gone but the image remained.
"… Sherlock are you Okay?" John's voice floated in. John had one hand on his mobile prepared to dial.
"No John, I'm fine." Sherlock said as he tried to blink away the last of the headache.
John looked at him carefully and took his pulse before he exhaled noisily and put his mobile away. "A memory?" John asked with one hand on his shoulders.
"I saw a picture of myself sitting on the floor, in some room, with one of those shock blankets covering me. I saw you, Lestrade, and Mycroft standing over me. I was injured. I think that this situation was so similar that it triggered a memory." Sherlock looked at John.
"That happened Sherlock, but it was a year ago." John hesitated. Mycroft warned him not to tell Sherlock information unless he was there but to allow the memories to come back naturally.
"Do you remember anything else?" John asked casually.
"No," Sherlock said with some frustration. "Only that scene. I have no memory of anything before or anything after that single memory."
John nodded thinking. He took Sherlock pulse again. Sherlock allowed him to and bit back the comment about overreacting. He knew when John was in full doctor mode. Moments later, John was satisfied that Sherlock was no worse off physically than he was before the single memory came back.
"John, Mycroft was correct. If these symptoms were because of one small out of place memory, then it would be most unpleasant if everything came back at one time." Sherlock and John both looked toward the door as the doorbell rang.
John glanced at Sherlock and then glanced at his gun. Sherlock looked concerned for a moment then relaxed.
"The pressure on the doorbell was two seconds in length yet firm. It's a delivery." Sherlock announced.
John did not question Sherlock but listened to the voices down the stairs. An agent sat by the downstairs door. That agent talked with someone at the door and then they both listened as the door closed again. An agent inspected the package and ran an electrical device over the package before he brought it up to the flat and gave it to John. The agent quickly left the room and returned to his post.
John looked at the delivered item strangely then walked it over to Sherlock. He put it on the table next to him. Sherlock grimaced as he swung his legs around so that they were now on the wooden floor and not the couch.
The room had flowers in different areas of it. The word got out that Holmes and Watson were injured slightly and well wishers including the Scotland Yarders, to Sherlock's surprise , sent flowers. Watson's blog had over a thousand people sending well wishes. That was why the look on Sherlock's face caught John's attention. Sherlock examined the delivery with as much concentrated effort as he would at a crime scene. That is when John made the call to Lestrade.
John after the call waited for Sherlock to finish when the doorbell rang again.
"Lestrade should not be out this soon," Sherlock muttered to himself without turning his attention from the package in front of him. Two sets of footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. Within a minute, Lestrade and Donovan walked through the door with case files in their hands. John looked at the files and folded his hands as he looked at Sherlock, he did not scold him, however.
Lestrade walked in looking good. There were still bruises that had changed in color to indicate their stages of healing on his body and face, but his gait was strong. He walked over to Sherlock as Sherlock wordlessly moved over to make room for him to sit.
Donovan felt odd being in their flat and was relieved when John smiled and motioned for her to sit in a chair. She tried not to stare at Holmes, but she had never seen him in anything other than a designer suit. He was wearing a blue night pajama shirt and trouser with a dark blue striped dressing gown over it.
Sally looked around quietly. The last time that she was in his flat, the circumstances were not pleasant. Her face fell on the blood red roses that were in front of Holmes and sat on the table. There were flowers of different types scattered around, but none were as lovely as the roses. They were blood red and looked almost like velvet. They were in the most exquisite looking crystal vase that she had ever seen. She looked at the vase closer. Her eyes opened slightly. The roses were not just in any vase, they were in an expensive Waterford crystal vase. She was curious but said nothing. She frowned when she noticed Holmes face.
Lestrade was silent for a moment. He knew the face that Sherlock made when he was figuring something out.
After a few minutes, Sherlock spoke again but still did not look at anyone. "You should have had Donovan bring over those case files. You should be resting not running all over the city or back at Scotland Yard so soon." Sherlock read the attached note.
Every eye in the room looked at him. Holmes could feel the eyes burning into the side of his head.
Holmes tore his eyes away from the flowers and attached note for the first time. "Yes, I am a hypocrite. That is an established fact. Can we crack on?" Sherlock asked with a false tight smile.
"Now that you admit the obvious, I think so," Lestrade said with an equally false smile. He lost the fake smile as his face became serious. Lestrade pointed with his head at the roses in question.
"A get well wish," Sherlock said sarcastically. "One rose for each letter of my name. The color is both a compliment and a warning. Everything is a clue about the next… game." Sherlock opened his mouth to say more but closed it.
John walked over to Sherlock. Sherlock looked up at him and handed him the note. John read it and frowned.
"What does it say?" Lestrade asked.
John said nothing but looked at Sherlock first. His eyes sought Sherlock's eyes as he asked wordlessly for permission. Sherlock looked back at him. John looked at the note and spoke again.
"Red is a good look for you. It stands out against your pale flesh. Get Well. M."
John had put down the note and joined everyone as they stared at the roses.
"John, those are such lovely flowers and such a fascinating crystal vase, I think that they deserve a distinct place of honor." Sherlock looked at John.
"I have just the spot mate," John took up the roses and walked out of view in the kitchen. Everyone heard the sound of the crystal vase as it was broken, when the roses and vase made contact with the rubbish bin.