I Am...

Chapter 1

999

Darkness, no air and water everywhere, those were her first memories. The blackness was total and piercing, even with her eyes wide open she couldn't tell up from down, until a few precious air bubbles escape her mouth. Using what energy she could muster she kicked her legs and flailed her arms as hard as she could, following the bubbles upward.

Her lungs were burning for air, but she fought back the reflex to inhale. Nothing would be worse for her then taking in nothing more than a lung full of water.

The second her head broke the surface of the water she found herself gulping in as much air as her lungs could contain. At least until her head fell back below the water line. Lucky for her, she bobbed back up with just a few kicks.

It was still pitch black, the only light coming off to her right. Aiming in that direction, she kicked and swam as best she could, which is when she register pain in her left arm every time tried to raise it over her head. Rather then stop and figure out why, she just stopped using that arm. The lights were her goal and she kicked harder. It took her a moment to realize the lights were from a ship docked on the shore and they were getting bigger, faster. The current seemed to be in her favor, it was pushing her towards her goal.

Her right foot hit the bottom of the river first, she had managed to reach the shore. She fought to get her feet to find better traction on the slippery bottom. A few times she lost her footing and crashed back into the waters. She managed to crawl out of the river and a few feet up the bank, well out of the reach of the high tide.

Collapsing on to the stony bank she wolfed in as much of the cold air as she could. She could feel warmth running into her eye but was too exhausted to do more then notice. She rolled onto her back, gazing at the stars, the cold air chilling her to the bone. Her body was shutting down and she knew it, but could do nothing about it. "At least," she thought out loud, "I'm not going to drown," A deep, dark shadow engulfed her mind at that last thought.

Mike Grubb had been a working at the HMS Belfast for the last thirty years, it wasn't exactly a hard job. Get in before the tourist, set up the ticket booth, make sure all the decks are cleared, and take the food delivery for the café. It was one of the easiest jobs Mike had ever had. He enjoyed the tourist as well. They all had their own story and he was one of those people who loved to listen to their stories.

Mike unlocked the ramp leading up to the HMS Belfast, it was only 8:45 in the morning, the ship didn't open till 10, but Mike liked to get an early start. He shoved the gate open, glancing over the railing, noticing, what he thought, was sea trash and he wouldn't have given it a second thought but for the bright red hair. He quickly left the gate and leaned over the railing, squinting hard, trying to get a better idea what it was he was looking at. His brain was not comprehending what his eyes were seeing.

Then the mass of trash moved, not much, but enough for Mike to get a handle on the fact that he was really seeing a body. "Good Lord!" Moving as fast as his aging body would allow, Mike hurried back towards the parking lot and took a sharp right, towards the river banks. Unfortunately the banks were rocky and steep, much to steep for a man of his age to navigate down. It would do neither of them any good if he were to fall and break a leg.

Mike pulled out his mobile just as another car pulled into the lot. He recognized the car as belonging to one of the younger tour guides. "Kate, I need you over here!" he hollered at her while punching in 999.

Kate got out of her car but didn't hurry to get to Mike, "What is it Mike?"

Once Kate was beside Mike, he pointed to the body on the beach, "I think she's still alive, I saw her move a moment ago."

"Have you called…" Kate started but Mike nodded, wiggling the mobile at his ear.

Kate nodded and jogged back to her car, grabbed the blanket she kept in her boot and returned to Mike, who was giving information to the emergency services. She walked past him and carefully made her way down the steep embankment; approaching the figure on the ground cautiously.

There was no movement and for a moment Kate was afraid she was approaching a corpse, that Mike had imagined whatever movement he saw. She picked her way closer, then knelt down beside the girl. Mike had been right about the body being a girl, the bright red hair was a dead give away. Draping the blanket over the girl, Kate rested her hand on the girl's left shoulder, staring at her chest, hoping to see movement. There was some movement from the girl breathing, but only just. Kate pulled her hand away and noticed there was blood on it. She pulled the blanket back and saw blood had pooled under the girl's left shoulder and there was quiet a bit on the front of it.

"Mike!" she hollered looking up at her coworker, still on the phone, "Let them know she's been shot." She quickly put pressure on the wound, and the girl let out a low groan.

Ten minutes later, Kate and Mike were giving their statements to a Sergeant Donavan.

"So neither of you have seen this girl before?" Donavan asked as she jotted down all the information the two of them had just given her.

Kate was quick to answer no, but Mike was a little more thoughtful, "Well, we do get a lot of visitors here," he gestured to the Belfast. "But I'm sure she hasn't been here before. I'd recognize that hair."

Donavan nodded and flipped her notebook shut, "Alright then, if you think of anything else let us know." She handed them both her card and walked towards her supervisor, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.

The ambulance had already taken the Jane Doe to the hospital nearly forty minutes ago. She opened her notebook and read off her notes to him, "So nobody knows her or how she got here," Donavan told him as they walked back to their car. "She has no wallet, or any other form of ID," she glanced down at her notes as they reached the car. "Paramedics say she has a nasty blow to her head and a gun shot wound to her left shoulder," she flipped her notebook closed. "I guess we'll get more information out of her once she comes to."

Lestrade said nothing, just opened his door, got into the car and started the engine. Donavan huffed as she followed his lead. Once seated she waited for Lestrade to pull away, but he didn't. "Please tell me you are not thinking of getting that Freak involved."

Lestrade glared at her, he hated when she referred to Sherlock Holmes like that. "Even if I was thinking about it," he gritted out, "I'm sure he would find this case boring."

If Lestrade wasn't mistaken, there was a sigh of relief from Donavan. He pulled away and directed the car towards St. Bartholomew's hospital.

It wasn't hard to find the Doctor in charge of Jane Doe's case, she was waiting from them at the door. "Inspector Lestrade," she held out her hand and he shook it. "I'm Doctor Parry, I've been assigned to Jane Doe's care. If you'll follow me." She lead them to an elevator, waited for the doors to open, then politely waited for Lestrade and Donavan to get in, then followed. She didn't say a word until the doors closed. "When Jane Doe was brought in she was suffering from advance hypothermia, which was good, because the cold water saved her life. It slowed her heart rate and kept her from bleeding out. The wound is a gun shot, and it nicked the axillary artery. Lucky for Jane Doe she ended up in the river right after it happened, otherwise she would have bled to death."

The doors opened and this time Doctor Parry didn't wait for the officers to leave first. She guided them down the hall, towards the recovery wing. "It was easy to repair the damage, and she is now in recovery, but there is one more thing." She stopped them outside a room where two of their fellow officers stood, both officers nodded to Lestrade. "She's been in and out of consciousness and what she says makes is not making sense, so don't plan on getting much out of her."

Doctor Perry pushed the door open. Jane Doe lay on the bed, her left arm in a sling, her right hooked up to an IV with blood, and her head was bandaged. Lestrade didn't need Sherlock to tell him the girl was sleeping fitfully, her head was jerking back and forth slightly, with an occasional moan. Lestrade moved to the foot of the bed, letting the girl sleep for now. She couldn't be more the twenty, give or take a few years.

"What about the blow to her head?" he asked looking back to the Doctor.

"That one were not sure about."

Lestrade nodded and turned his attention back to the girl.

Her eyes were open, and she had her piercing blue eyes fixed on Lestrade, not with fear but with curiosity. "Sorry," he gave in way of an apology for waking her. "I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade," he gestured to the his partner, still in the doorway, "and this is Sergeant Donavan."

She nodded her head but said nothing. "Are you up to answering a few questions?" She kind of shrugged and Lestrade took that as a yes. "Do you know where you are?" She shook her head. "You are in St. Bartholomew's hospital. You were found on the banks of the Thames river. Can you tell me what happened?" She shook her head again. "What about who did this to you?" he asked, looking a little confused.

There was a moment of silence as the girl seemed to think about the question. "I... I can't," she whispered, looking confused. "I mean. I don't remember."

Given the accent, Lestrade pegged the girl as American. "Let's start simple then. How about your name?"

The moment of silence lasted longer and the confusion on her face turned to fear, "I don't know," she whispered again, more to herself then to anyone in the room. She looked at Lestrade, "How can I not know who I am?"

A few moments later, while Jane Doe was getting an MRI done, Lestrade and Donavan were standing outside her room. "You're thinking of calling Him, aren't you?" Donavan asked.

"You have a better idea?" he asked pulling his mobile out of his jacket pocket. "All the physical evidence was washed away in the river, she had no idea what happened, hell she can't even remember her own name." He waited for Donavan to answer, but she kept her mouth shut.

"That's what I thought." He dialed Sherlock's number. It was John Watson who answered.

"Hello?"

"John? Why isn't he answering his own mobile?"

There was a pause and Lestrade could hear Sherlock yelling, "I am not interested in a body washing up on the river banks."

"That's why?" John answered.

If Lestrade wasn't so annoyed he would have found the fact that Sherlock knew why he was calling amazing, "It wasn't a body, the girl is still alive. And she has no idea how she got there, or even who she is."

Lestrade waited while John relayed the new information. He could hear Sherlock's footfalls, there was a small scuffle, then Sherlock's voice came on. "I will be there in twenty minutes." It was followed by utter silence.

"I think he just hung up on me," Lestrade commented, clicking his own phone off. He looked over at Donavan, the look on her face was murderous. "Oh don't look at me like that Donavan."

Donavan held up her hands in defeat, "I'm not saying a word." She turned away from him, leaving Lestrade to wait for Sherlock and John by himself.

The girl lay in the big metal tube, with her eyes closed, while it hummed and grumbled. If she could have, she would've covered her ears but the nice lady doctor had asked her to hold as still as possible. If she couldn't remember who she was, she could at least remember to follow directions. She closed her eyes, trying to remember anything from before all the water. Lestrade had asked her how she had gotten into the river, but nothing came to her. Just blackness, water and not being able to breath. She took a deep breath to reassure herself that she could breath.

The noises coming from the machine stopped and her eyes snapped open. "There," Doctor Perry was saying as the machine spit her out. "That wasn't so bad?"

The girl just smiled, while she hadn't liked all the noise it hadn't hurt. "It hurt less then being shot," she joked. Doctor Perry just stared at her. "It was a joke," the girl reassured her.

Doctor Parry smiled, undid the head strap, then helped the girl sit up. "I guess you would know that better then me," she gently touched the girls left shoulder.

After getting into the wheelchair and getting hooked back up to the IV, which hadn't been allowed into the MRI room, Doctor Perry wheeled her back to her own room.

The girl gave a slight smile to the two officers stationed outside her room, choosing not to think about why they were there.

The doctor helped her back into bed and got her situated. "Alright then, just so you know one of our lab techs will in here to draw some blood."

The girl cringed and made a face. "Is it necessary?" she asked, but knowing what the answer would be.

"Sorry sweetie, but yea, it is. Don't worry," the doctor paused then grinned. "I promise it will hurt less then getting shot."

The girl grinned, enjoying the joke. "I'll keep that in mind."

Parry smiled, then walked out. The girl decided she like that woman. The girl flipped on the telivision, there was actually a story about her on it. They were leaving out the fact that she was alive, but unable to remember anything.

Frustrated she flipped the television off and laid her head back into the pillows. That was how the lab tech found her.

Lestrade paced in front of the elevator doors. It was going on thirty minutes since Sherlock had hung up on him, he was late. Jane Doe was back in her room under the watchful eyes of two of Scotland Yards best. Donavan had retreated back the station, to 'get started on the paperwork.' Lestrade was sure she just wanted to avoid Sherlock. The two never got on, even after Sherlock's "resurrection".

There was a soft ding as the cart reached the floor. When the door parted there stood Sherlock Holmes. Ever the drama queen, he stood in the elevator for a few moments just staring at the Detective Inspector, before John Watson, who stood directly behind him, shoved past him. "If you're done being theatric," John told him.

"Oh come off it," Sherlock drooled. "It's who I am." Without stopping to get directions he strolled through the hallway. "So, the girl? Shot in the left shoulder, head wound, red hair, can't remember anything," he spun on Lestrade. "Anything else?" It was a rhetorical question.

"How about what room she's in. Can you tell me that?" Lestrade was being a smart arse.

Sherlock looked incredulous, "And how would I know that? I'm a genius, not a psychic."

Lestrade rolled his eyes once Sherlock had his back to him. John just shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine, she was found this morning…"

Sherlock interrupted him with a wave of his hand, "Yes, yes, yes. This morning a Mr. Grubbs and Ms. Cooke found her on the banks of the Thames, next to the HMS Belfast. I know this."

They had arrived at the girls door, but didn't go in yet. "We have nothing to go on," Lestrade told him. "That's why I called you."

"Yes, most likely the smartest thing you have done today." He nodded to the door. "Shall we?"

Sherlock gestured towards the door right as it opened and the lab tech walked out holding an ice pack to his check. "She's… um… Well, she's in bed anyway." He ducked his head in embarrassment and shuffled passed the three men.

John looked to Lestrade, who looked to Sherlock, who shrugged and responded. "I didn't do it." Without waiting for the other two, Sherlock barged into the girls room.

Her door bursting open caused her to jerk her head up. The man who barged in took her by surprise and she sat up straighter, letting her left leg hang off the bed. He was tall, lanky and his curly brown hair was a bit disheveled. His coat's collar was turned up and he was wearing a scarf knotted around his neck.

He said nothing to her, just grab a chair, set it at the side of her hospital bed, sat in it and stared at her. She cast a glance to the other two men standing in the doorway. She recognized Lestrade. But the shorter one she hadn't seen before, or at least not that she could remember.

She returned her gaze to the man in the chair. The finger tips of both his hands were touching and he had them below his mouth. His eyes would flicker to glance at other things, but other then that he kept them on her.

She waited for someone to explain what was going on. Why they were here and why this man was staring at her so intently. She glanced again at the men at the door. Lestrade had introduced himself and another cop to her earlier, and if she had to guess, the shorter one must work in the medical profession, given the way he kept looking from her head wound, to her shoulder and resting on the IV pump.

Returning her gaze to the man in front of her she was not surprised to see that he was still staring at her. She grabbed the left side of her neck, given that she couldn't cross her arms, and stared back at him. She crinkled her eyebrows at him, and took a deep breath. She would wait for him to tell her what was going on, or at least ask some kind of question.

Without warning he got to his feet, clapping his hands, and making her jump. "Oh this case is going to be so good," he exclaimed turning to face the others.