Remind Me of Who I am, a sherlock fanfic

Title: Remind me.

Author: Tcheki

Fandom: Sherlock

Rating: PG-13

Paring: Sherlock x John

Genre: Action, suspense, fluff

Warnings: Not anything too serious.

Summary: Sherlock doesn't know who he is and there is only John there to help him remember, but just what has caused Sherlock to forget, and what has John to learn from all this?

Word count: 5783

I had to double take; look back over to the man lying on that dreary white sheeted bed, propped up on pillows. Stung up with tubs pumping what doctors say are 'fluids,' but I know what it truly is. My eyes focused on his face, scanning the bruised cheek just under his left eye, the way his eyes were blood shot. How his lips quiver.

"Remind me… who am I?" He repeated, my inquisitive look must've cued him off. I forced a smile on my face and turned to face him fully. Having just pulled on my long black coat, I chose to shrug it off again and walked over to the chair I had claimed each night. I did not sit, instead I looked at it, thinking about those days that I sat and watched the man sleep, read to him, rambled on nonsense. Anything to keep the sense of 'home' there. But it looked as though my efforts were in vain.

I couldn't refrain from letting a soft sigh leave my lips, and my eyes came to focus on his face once more. "Where could I start?" My voice was harsh, it was like I didn't even know how to speak.

"The beginning. It would be nice." He spoke. Oh his voice was so sweet, it brought a smile to my face and I instantly felt heartless for that.

"Well… you're fantastic." I said softly. Shaking my head. "You saved my life."

"You are?" Daggers to my heart.

"John Watson—Doctor John Watson." The look in his eyes meant something clicked. "Oh, so you're my doctor?" Apparently not the right things had clicked.

"No. Far from it. I'll start from the beginning… the day I met you." He said nothing. It was a good sign.

-John-

A flat mate? To think that just yesterday I had inquired about leaving the lonely one room flat I had called home for a place where I would share with someone else. A stranger. How comfortable did I feel in that thought? To live with a stranger was just like putting my life in the hands of my mates in Afghanistan. Mates who had become some of my closest friends. I could never get that last night out of my head. Maybe a new flat mate would clear my head. It would be good for me, right?

"Which one?" A voice rang out. I had already given him my phone to use for some strange thing while I looked about the lab that I had followed a mutual friend in to. "Which one…?" I had to question. Did he not know how to use a cell phone? Considering all that he seemed capable of doing, why couldn't he use a phone? "Iraq or Afghanistan?" I was dumbfounded. Those countries—one of them rang like bullets in my ears. "Uh… Afghanistan." I choked. How could he know.

"Well. I figured it would have to be one of them, the way you hold yourself, the psychosomatic limp. It all screams war. Topped with that tan. Had to be in a desert." There I was, dumbfounded again. I was at such a loss of words it barely registered that he had told me to meet him at the potential flat.

"Wait—where?" I turned, he was gone.

This was just the start.

"John. How long have you been up?" A voice sounded behind me and I looked up from my laptop over to Sarah as she came out of her room.

"Oh, a couple of hours. I couldn't sleep, I was just thinking about the past couple of days.." I answered, possibly giving her more than she wanted to know.

The days went by fast; being with Sherlock was easier than I thought. Sure, everyone at the flat thought that he and I are some sort of couple. I liked to brush off the rumors by saying we were a couple of secret detectives and walk away. It seemed to make things a lot easier. But the rumors never stopped, and for me, they were louder than Sherlock's attempts at warding off Mycroft with his excellent violin skills. Or lack thereof in that situation.

I found myself looking for a release—anything to help numb out the rumors. A call for an interview couldn't come at a better time, and though I had poor attendance because of a certain someone kept me up all night. But, Sarah never minded my naps in my office. In fact, she and I chose to date just on my first day of work. Sure the first date was horrid, thanks to Sherlock, but it actually made us closer.

"Anything about me?" she questioned, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss my cheek. Her kisses were always so sweet, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Of course." I added, "Though some are of Sherlock and how our first date was ju-" Sarah suddenly grabbed my cheeks and turned my head so she could kiss my lips. My eyes widened, she usually wasn't so deliberate with her advances. Not that I minded, but in our week long relationship, I knew her kisses meant that she wanted me back in the bedroom.

Our lips parted and I stood up to follow her into the bedroom. But just then, my phone went off. "… Sorry, I have to take this." Sarah was very understanding of the relationship, and unpaid side job that I had with Sherlock. But this number… it was unlisted.

I hit the talk button and put the phone to my ear. "Hello John Watson.. it would be wise of you not to speak or we'll kill your friend there." I turned to see a red dot on Sarah's back as she stood in the kitchen preparing breakfast. I swallowed hard and nodded. "Good. Now, I would like you to meet me at the school. Go to the pool area. Tell no one." And he hung up. I turned to look at Sarah, the red dot still there.

"Sarah, there's been a murder. I have to go." I called out to her. It was so easy to lie.

"OK John, be safe!" She never turned to look at me, it was better that way. That beam wouldn't leave her back until I left. So I grabbed my coat and turned to the front door. It was easier to leave than one would suspect.

I walked down the hall while slipping on my coat and turned to go down the stairs. Through the lobby and out the front door. No one thought twice of me. If only they knew I was possibly going off to my death. I could barely raise my hand to call the taxi over. Sinking into the seat.

"Where to, sir?" The cab driver asked.

"The school please."

"OK, sir." And he drove off. I just stared out the window. Lost in the sea of people flashing by the cab as it sped off down the street. Cab drivers were always lead on the pedals. My death would only come sooner.

Screeching tires, the cab stopped. I didn't bother to count the money I handed to him before I got out and went inside the pool area. My hands stuffed into my pockets when I heard a clicking noise. There was a red beam in front of my face, and when I looked down… it was aimed at my chest. I knew it.

"You didn't tell anyone?" The familiar voice sounded. I nodded.

"Good. Sherlock will be here soon anyway." A figure stepped out from behind the risers.

"You… you're that guy from the hospital." I choked.

"Marvelous. You remember me." He approached me. "But I should tell you, I am not who I said I was then."

"No shit." I snarled back. The dot moved up to my forehead. I could almost feel the heat from it.

"You may know me by a different name: Jim Moriarty." Did I? I wasn't so sure. So I shrugged. "Hm.. I suppose dear Sherlock has tried to protect you from some things. Never the less.. he isn't here now." He kicked a vest over to my feet and I looked down at it. "Put it on."

It was bulky, but lying open. I couldn't see what the point was until I bent down to pick it up. It was bombed. My eyes widened—this was the same style of those other cases, people strapped to bombs, having to read word for word or die. I wanted to refuse, but now he had a gun pointed at me.

I slipped off my coat and pulled on the vest, snapping it closed and looking back up to him. But he motioned back to my coat with his gun. I lifted it again and slipped it on, covering the bombs.

"Good.. Now come stand here." He pointed to the nook that led to a door. So I walked over and stood there. Jim approached me an attached an earpiece to my head. "I'm sure you know the game." He said with a chuckle and left.

I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but the sound of hard soled shoes soon echoed off the walls and a voice rang in my ear. "Step forward and repeat what I say"

I stepped out and turned to face Sherlock.

"….John?" He asked… he suspected me—like I was the one who did this all, but his gun lowered. He was questioning the position we were in.

"Hello Sherlock." His expression changed… I opened my coat like I was told, revealing the bomb. Sherlock looked frazzled. I could see that red beam again. I was a target.

My mind went blank.

The sudden jolt of someone pulling at me snapped me back to reality and I looked up to see Sherlock at my side, he pushed off my coat and swiftly unhooked the vest and pulled it from me. Tossing it aside. He seemed so skilled at that.

"I'm glad no one was here to see that." I said with a grin. It was a relief; I suppose it was all over.

"Huh?" He asked, his mind was darting like always. I was an afterthought.

"See you undressing me like that." It finally hit him and he laughed.

"Well, it would satisfy their thoughts, wouldn't it?" He added. We both shared a laugh.

But sudden clapping drew our attention back to Jim as he re-entered the room. "Who said I would let you off the hook that easily?" That heat was back. I looked to Sherlock and he had one as well.

"Well, I'm sure you know my answer to that." Sherlock said as he aimed his gun for the bombs at Jim's feet.

More heat. Sherlock had many dots on him now, and I was sure I did as well.

"Sherlock…." I didn't know what he would do, and the look on his face showed that he didn't know as well. But he was thinking, deep in thought. His aim never wavered.

"What will it be, Sherlock?" Jim taunted. Sherlock's aim steadied.

Suddenly Sherlock grabbed my arm and he pulled me towards the water. Tossing the gun behind him and over his head.

We hit the water in the deep end and the gun hit the hard floor and fired, the bullet hit the bomb and it went off. It was loud, even under the water, but Sherlock was pulling me towards the other side of the pool and he surfaced confidently and climbed out of the pool.

I came up to the top and looked behind me to see the destroyed side of the pool, but the bomb was only made to be a small explosion—not like the others. And there was no body. Jim got away.

I struggled to get out of the pool while Sherlock busied himself with looking for Jim or anyone else for that matter. But we were alone.

"Well.. that's over with now. We should go home now John." Sherlock spoke like nothing had happened—but he wasn't the one strapped up with bombs. My head hurt, and I was sure the sounds of the war was back in my head.

I barely registered being in the cab or even walking up the steps until I stepped into our flat.

"Sherlock…" I finally spoke.

"I assure you there isn't a head in the fridge." He quipped back at me.

"It's not that… I.." What was wrong with me? "I can't do this anymore!" I shouted, the sound shocked me just as much as him. He stopped and looked at me. But I wasn't going to stop. I walked over to where my bag was and grabbed it and walked out of our living quarters and to my room.

I didn't care what I was grabbing, as long as clothes were going from my dresser into the bag. Anything. I could do laundry at Sarahs.

So I zipped the bag when it was full, walking down the stairs, but my foot steps were loud thanks to the added baggage.

"John…" Sherlock spoke.. I froze. "You were fine with this all before."

"I know! But you were strapped up with bombs today! I could've been killed—and it was your fault! You weren't there!" I yelled. It sounded horrible, but I yelled anyway.

Sherlock looked like whatever emotions he had locked inside were about to be let loose. "But John, you're the only one I've been able to live with."

"Yeah? And the possibility of my head on a platter was just the prize at the end!" Why was I yelling?

"That's not true. You should stay."

"No."

"Wrong." He was always like that. Sherlock gave me this look, he knew I wanted to stay—he always knew.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, my tone coming down a bit.

He was silent, just looking at me with cold eyes. I was done. I turned and walked down the stairs and outside to fetch a cab.

-Sherlock-

John turned and left… I waited for the sound of the door to shut before I could get the words to come out.

"Say that you'll stay." I finally managed.

But I would have no time to think of this matter. The chime of my message alert got my attention. I pulled out my phone and opened the message.

How does it feel to lose the only friend you have to a trap?

The number was unlisted, but that wouldn't stop me. I walked over to my computer and within a few minutes I had the location of the phone in question down. I didn't have to look twice before I was grabbing my coat and rushing out to get a cab.

"Where to?" he asked, but I merely pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled the address. Handing it to him. I didn't mind the look on his face as he took it. But he headed off in the direction.

"Step on it, will you?" Another glare from the cabby—but he was paid.

We arrived and I tossed some money to the driver as I got out and looked up at the building. I knew this place. Just as I stepped up to the door, my phone chimed again, so I pulled it out and read the message.

I wouldn't go in there. The whole place is rigged.

"…damnit." I looked over the building again. There had to be a way. I looked to my phone again and opened a new text where I typed 'Where are you?' to John. I half expected him to ignore me.

'With Sarah.' He responded—but not what I needed. 'I need to know your location.' I responded.

'Why? So I can be strapped with bombs again?'

"No, John." I voiced, but typed 'Wrong' and sent it to him.

'If you need something, ask Mycroft.'

I paused over what to write next, but I just put my phone in my pocket and took a few steps back and looked up at the window to Sarah's flat. It was dark. That's why John said he was with her and not at her place. They met somewhere. But where?

"Lost my friend to a trap..?" I repeated and looked to my phone again. It clicked. The message was meant to lead me away from John, to lead me to another trap. But I needed to figure out where John was.

I grabbed my phone again and called him. He didn't answer. So I called again. Temptation would kick in—I knew him.

"Sherlock, I am not putting up with this!" John's voice. "John, get off the phone, I thought you weren't going to talk to him." And Sarah.

"Wrong number." I lied and hung up the phone. I had what I needed now.

-John-

I hung up the phone and looked to Sarah, but she only gave me a sly smirk as we stepped off the dock and onto the boat that was waiting for us. I found it strange that she was able to get a boat so soon, but my mind was so flustered from Sherlock that I just didn't care. It was an escape. And escape that I wanted to get on with as soon as possible, and I was glad when I found the boat in motion.

"John, you look a bit pale. Is this your first time on a boat?" Sarah asked. I hadn't taken notice to how nauseous I was until just now. And the sudden urge to throw up hit the second my lips parted to answer her. I rushed to the side of the boat and threw my head over the edge. Vomiting into the sea.

"Sorry.. it is my first time." I finally responded and she walked over to me with a pill and glass of water.

"Take this, it helps you adjust to the motion sickness." I had no reason not to trust her so I took the pill and smiled to her. Following her into the underside of the boat. Finding the living quarters fit for two people easily, three a bit uncomfortably, but it was good enough for me to have the opportunity to clear my mind and get away from Sherlock.

I wandered over to the small couch and sat down.

Suddenly my eyes snapped open and I sat up to look out the window to see it was dark. I suppose the pills helped me sleep as well. I got to my feet and noticed how quiet it was so I went out onto the deck and looked around.

"Sarah? Those pills helped a lot, thanks." I said while I looked around for her, but nothing. I rose a brow and looked up to where the driver should be and found that no one was there, and then this sickening ticking noise was starting to ring in my ears. I hurried up the ladder to the landing where the driver would stand and was greeted with a bomb and a portable DVD player. I snapped the player open and pressed play.

The image that showed up was Sarah and Moriarty holding hands and smiling.

"Sorry dear John, but I can't have you helping Sherlock out. There's nothing more that we want in this world but to make his life horrible. It seems he's taking a liking to you—" and then a clip of when Sherlock and I were fighting came on, it seemed like we had been under surveillance. Though, the thing that shocked me most was how I walked away and the look on Sherlock's face as he said 'Say you'll stay.' My heart sank and I threw the player aside and looked to the bomb. "I'm sorry Sherlock." I said softly. There were only minutes to go, I couldn't do a thing.

"I knew you would come around." I heard the voice behind me and turned to see Sherlock standing over me. He glanced to the bomb and ran up to me to grab onto me. Having to pull me to my feet because my body had accepted I would die. He pulled me towards the edge and I saw the boat he had brought and we got down off the top and climbed over the railing and dropped into the small speed boat. Sherlock was the last to try to get off the boat as he was helping me down onto the speed boat.

I watched as he moved to climb over the railing and then this noise started to ring off and I looked up just in time to see the bomb set off early. I didn't want to duck, but my body made me—it was probably what saved my life. But I still saw as Sherlock was thrown off the boat and into the water, the fire was still roaring from the boat but the explosion pushed the speed boat away and it kept me safe. But the waves were still bustling when I jumped up and ran to the edge to look for Sherlock. Finding his body limp, face down in the water. I jumped over the edge and swam to his side.

I understood now.

Days had passed with Sherlock in the hospital, he had suffered a massive concussion and even went into a coma, but today was different, he was responding to voices. His fingers moved, his lips twitched. His breathing even hitched when I spoke to him. Just what did that mean? But, when his eyes opened and he looked at me, I couldn't see that life in him anymore. Something was wrong. I walked over to the bed and looked at him.

"You're awake." I spoke softly and he slowly looked up to me like his mind was lagging behind. His eyes focused over my face and I could see he had no clue who I was. I froze and licked my lips nervously, I had to be there for him—he was there for me when I had left him, he saved me. I couldn't leave him now.

"You're going to be OK, you should be able to go home soon and I promise I will stay." I said softly, but his next words hurt worse than the pain I felt when I pulled him from the water.

"Remind me of who I am."

I couldn't refrain from letting a soft sigh leave my lips, and my eyes came to focus on his face once more. "Where could I start?" My voice was harsh, it was like I didn't even know how to speak.

"The beginning. It would be nice." He spoke. Oh his voice was so sweet, it brought a smile to my face and I instantly felt heartless for that.

"Well… you're fantastic." I said softly. Shaking my head. "You saved my life."

"You are?" Daggers to my heart.

"John Watson—Doctor John Watson." The look in his eyes meant something clicked. "Oh, so you're my doctor?" Apparently not the right things had clicked.

"No. Far from it. I'll start from the beginning… the day I met you." He said nothing. It was a good sign.

It didn't take me long to explain what had happened, what we had gone through, but when I looked up at the clock I could see that three hours had passed. When did I become so articulate that I was able to talk to him for that long about our past? But my gaze fell to him and he seemed locked up, staring at his hands. I had lost him.

I shook my head and carefully reached out to place my hand over one of his and squeezed it. "You'll remember, Sherlock. I promise." I said and forced my best smile. He seemed to understand as he looked up and returned the smile. He trusted me, even after I told him I left, even after I said it was my fault. I was a fool.

The next day I helped pack up the few things Sherlock had there then looked to him as he got out of bed slowly. It was a struggle to dress him, but I didn't mind the work. He was so tall and slender that it was almost awkward—I was more accustomed to clothing myself or taking clothes off of Sa-.

No, I couldn't think of her. She put me in this position.

Once Sherlock was dressed I walked with him as he wandered down the hallway to the exit. He was so persistent on walking that no one dared to keep pushing it. I supposed part of him was still there. But that was stabbed when we stepped into the house and his skin went even paler.

"W- this is where we live?" He asked in a frightened voice. I was sure his antics had etched into the walls and it was obvious that a sociopath had lived there. But Sherlock was that very man. And he was gone now. I shook my head and hurried to clean up some things.

"Well, yeah. But things got carried away with you in the hospital. I'll get things back to speed. I promise!"

This was just the start.

-Sherlock-

I had already been back a month. The apartment was clean, it looked like a normal person lived there and it was comforting. But I was finding myself missing the monstrous look that it had when I first got back. Seeing John work was something that had me fascinated. He was very meticulous to keep the place clean as well as take care of me. It seemed as though my wounds had healed in no time, and all that was left was helping me to remember.

I had gotten so many calls, help on cases. Go look at dead bodies. I refused them all. Seeing John sulk in the corner told me that that wasn't me. But it wasn't time yet.

I knew John was hurting, and he knew I didn't know why. But I approached him slowly, tired of the days of seeming like nothing was going to happen, nothing would get done. He had been sulking all day, sitting in a dark corner and staring out a window. I couldn't stand it anymore.

"John..?"

"Oh, yes Sherlock?" He said softly, looking up at me, but his body moved to get ready to stand up. I shook my head and stepped back to give him the room to stand. But it brought him very close to me and I just stared down at him. "Um.. Is everything OK, Sherlock?" He asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

"So.. I was looking through my computer and found a link to your blog. I read it, at least three times. I think it was a good idea to write them, but I find some of the subject matter insulting. I suppose that's to be taken in stride considering the man I used to be." John's face grimaced at that last part.

"Yeah, well.. I was doing it for my sanity at that point. You're just.. well, you were just so sporadic, it was hard to keep control of you." He tried to reason with me. "But I miss that, you know? You saw right through me, you brought me back to the same person I was before."

"I showed you you didn't need to limp." After the words left my lips John looked up at me with his mouth slightly agape. So, I finished it off by reached up to place my hand on his left shoulder and my thumb over where the bullet wound scar was. "I brought you back to the battlefield."

"S-sherlock?" He studdered.

"I pulled you into a dangerous world thinking you wanted that—knowing you wanted that. It was like continuing the war for you, being back in the line of fire. Even though you're a doctor, it was still something you longed for. The looks, the mystery. You ate it up." John was frozen. "I put you in danger. Anything I did with you put you further and further from my protection, and I was too slow in realizing Sarah's position in all this."

"But.. Sherlock, I never told you about Sarah." John said, and it was true. He skipped over her when he was 'reminding me,' but I don't resent him for that. He wanted to forget just as much as I reached out for his honesty. But the last few weeks have shown me why he chose to ignore the idea of Sarah. Though she was still out there with Moriarty, John was here with me. And he was helping me, he was working with me and for me. It was almost trivial that he didn't notice.

"Almost everyone is an idiot." I said softly and he grimaced. "When you left after Moriarty had almost killed you. When you went to Sarah's side. Do you know what I said?" He shook his head, but I could see in his eyes that he knew. "Aa.. Well, I suppose I'll never know."

I turned and walked away from him. Standing by the doorway and staring off down the stairs.

"These weeks have brought me a vacation I thought I could never have." I heard him take a step forward. "I was married to my work. A brilliant and fascinating man as you had told me on various occasions, yet you still were there to save me when it was needed." Another fact he refrained from telling me. And another step forward. "Yet I was still able to make it up to you, in the end I wanted to be there and make up for putting you in danger. But I was late."

"You weren't late, Sherlock! You were right on time, you saved my life." He batted out at me. But I didn't bother to look back at him.

"There are no such things as heroes." I said and he took another step. A smile formed, but I forced it away. Slowly I turned to him and looked to his face. "If I were to tell you I was leaving… what would you tell me?"

John's eyes widened and he stared at me for some time, but I knew what his answer would be. He bit his bottom lip and looked to the side, that look of utter shock and horror grazed his features and he closed his eyes which allowed a tear to slide down his face. "Why don't you stay..?" He said in a soft voice.

"If I were to ask you to go back in time… to see me sitting in this very room looking at you… just as you're about to leave. And you asked me what I would like you say, and I stay quiet. What would you say?" He looked up to my face again. More tears—he was just too innocent it seemed.

"I'll stay." He said after what seemed like ages.

Finally I let him see me smile and I held my hand out towards him. It took John a few moments to get the hint but he slowly walked over towards me and took my hand. I looked down to it and wrapped my fingers around his hand and nodded to him.

"Finally, you said something right."

"Sherlock?"

"Yeah?"

"How long… have you remembered?" Well, John could figure out some things, but not all. I chuckled and tugged him closer.

"Since I saw you when I woke up." I said softly. He looked hurt, but then just smiled. He understood why I did it, I was helping him to figure things out. Figure everything out. But he still had to ask.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You had many things to figure out. Like if you were going to stay here and continue to be subjected to my cruel ways and these dangerous missions." I answered him honestly. "Did you figure out the most important part?"

He looked up at me and nodded. "I believe I do."

"And that is..?" I asked him. And he stepped closer to me and leaned up onto his tippy toes. I could feel a hand press to the back of my neck and pull me down, then his lips on mine and I stared at him.. but soon gave in to his kiss and returned it softly. When John pulled back, he held me close and spoke.

"I'll stay.." He said again, but it was with hidden meaning. I nodded to him and smirked.

"Another right answer." I said softly. Just then my phone went off and I pulled it from my pocket and read the message that was sent.

"Who is it?" John asked, and he stepped back a bit from me and waited.

"Do you still miss seeing the bodies?" I asked softly and he nodded. "Good. It's time to get back to work." I held up John's hand to show him I still had a hold of it. "We can continue this later, after you return the apartment to how it was before." He scowled and I laughed. "Maybe I'll help."

"Sherlock.." He said softly and I turned my attention to him again. "Keep putting me in danger, it'll remind me that you're OK."

"…Don't worry about it. You'll always be in danger now, but I'll always be there. Now, let's go before Anderson gets there." And I ran off down the stairs tugging John behind me.