The Swan Queen | Sherlock

Lost Memories

           I don't remember how I got here. Here. Where was here? It was dark and quiet, very quiet. Was I dreaming? Was this a dream? I couldn't see anything. Were my eyes shut? I tried to open them, but they felt heavy, weighed down by a strong force. Tiredness, probably. I had been overdoing it lately, what with ballet practise and work.

I tried to remember how I got here. Here. It would help if I knew where here was. Home, I hoped, safely tucked up in bed at Baker Street. What was I doing before I got here? Working? Try as I might, I couldn't recall.

Remember... Try to remember. Where are you?

Jess. I remember Jess. Her boyfriend broke up with her. Poor Jess. And Ronan! He proposed to Victoria. We went out for drinks. That's right. That explains it. I got drunk last night and now I'm hungover. But wait, don't I have work today? What time is it? I hope I haven't slept in. Was I late home last night?

Last night. Why couldn't I remember coming home last night? Did I get a taxi? Did I walk? No. Amy ordered the taxis, there were two. Half of our group got in one, and the other...

Blank.

I don't remember.

There was something. A niggle. A memory. A voice. Jess. She was saying something, shouting. What was she shouting? Was it a word? Or was it... a name?

A name.

My name.

"SAM!"

I've never heard her shout like that. Actually, that's a lie. I have once before when we were walking Max. He had a tendency to escape from the park whenever you let him off the lead, and one time he almost ran out onto the road. Right into oncoming traffic.

The revving engine.

Bright lights.

I tried again to open my eyes, this time I felt them flutter, struggling against the weight of tiredness. I saw something, a light above me and shapes. I felt now, for the first time, pain. My entire body was aching. I'd never known a hangover like it. I'd never known pain like it before, and I've been stabbed.

"Sam?" said a voice. It might have been a man, could have been a woman, I'm not sure.

Something touched my hand, something soft, and gave it a gentle squeeze. I felt woozy. I wanted to stay awake, but the effort it took was overwhelming. I tried to speak, tried to open my mouth. I heard a groan. Was that me?

"Oh my God, Sam, we were so worried," said another voice, or the same voice, I'm not sure.

"It's alright, you're going to be alright."

There was a creak as a door opened. I heard muffled words but couldn't make them out. Then a face appeared in my line of vision. I knew that face.

"Thank God," he said. John. "I was so..." he gulped, wiping his tired eyes with his hand, "-so worried about you. We all were. But don't worry, you're out of the woods now."

Woods? Why was I in a wood?

"We should let her get some rest." I don't think that remark was aimed at me.

They left after that, all the voices. And I was alone again. I was battling to stay awake, but it was no use. I gave up fighting, drifting off into another dreamless sleep.