One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

First chapter of a story im writing!

I wake up. It's cold, crisp, I breathe in deep and the taste of chemicals, most like sodium hypochlorite as is used the most in hospitals. Wait, hospital? I open my eyes, blinking against the harsh white light, my heart rate spikes, the machine beeps in protest. Nurses gather around me in action and it's all a flurry around me as they check on me, how long have I been asleep?

Finally they move away, I'm left on my own and I force myself to sit up, my arms weak, my weight is too much. I collapse before I can push myself into a sitting position and I try again this time collapsing against the wall of pillows behind my head. I breathe deeply, my lungs burning from the exertion that I used to take for granted.

What happened?

"I believe you'll work that out for yourself in good time Miss McCloud, you are suffering from transient global amnesia. What is the last thing you remember?" A voice speaks, a bored drawl, it's familiar, like a smell caught on the wind that reminds you of home. Home? Where is home?

'Right! Last thing I remember, think!' I clench my eyes shut to look into my mind, my brain is like a car crash, a train wreck, it's all over the place and scattered, my organised thoughts are scattered and lost, like dust brushed and forgotten under carpets but now it's all been brought up and I can't breathe.

"MCCLOUD! You need to breathe, in out, 1 2 3, out, 3 2 1, in-" the voice that's cut through my mind, penetrated my sensitive skull is unfamiliar however, I open my eyes, tears forming at the brightness that I should have adjusted to by now and there's a nurse coaching me through my breathing, a oxygen mask on my face.

Finally the panic attack has subsided, I realise I'm going to have to reorganise my mind before I can see what I can't remember. I close my eyes again, knowing what to expect this time and pluck a dictionary off the floor, I shake it out and words scatter to the floor like smog in the London air. Lost through the floorboards of my mind.

I open the dictionary, looking, searching for, 'transient global amnesia' and finally after what feels like hours but is most likely only minutes.

Transient global amnesia-
A temporary episode of memory loss...

And the rest is lost, somewhere in my mind the words are there but if the episode is temporary then my memory is soon to return, it will return. I blink and I'm back in the present. I decide that the best way to get through this, to pass the time just for a few seconds is to give hints to my thoughts as to where I am and where I have been.

Right, hospital bed, the sheets are not as crisp as when they are placed on fresh beds indicating I've been here for a few hours, at least, I look around more, there is a torn piece of paper to my right on the small bedside cabinet, I'm in a private room, so I've just been moved here after surgery perhaps. Surgery on what?

Check for injuries. Wriggle my toes, they're all still there, guess that's good. Calf's, thighs, torso, sharp blinding white pain. Right best check that. I let my hand slide under the hospital gown and yes the coarse feel of gauze against a wound, I can feel the slight rise indicating stitches. A phantom echo of the blade piercing my skin.
I gasp and push the thought aside. So now I know I was stabbed, only a few hours ago. By who?

Close my eyes again and then open them, look to the bedside cabinet again, the torn piece of paper. I reach over, the stitches in my left side between my ribs screaming at me but I have to if I am to solve why I am here.

Grasping it with my fingertips I take it in my hand and feel it crinkle against my skin before I bring it to my face to inspect more closely.

Old paper, smells a bit like vanilla, another memory, my conscious self catches it whilst it's close. Mr Edward, Mr E, mystery... ah yes Mystery, my old friend, when I say old it's because he's old, I've only known him for two years now.