A/N: My first Sherlock fanfic! *many cheers and victory moves* I know this is probably going to be terrible in some form or another, but seeing as this is for my mere amusement and to get my muse to shut up, I'm not really going to look for correctness in my work (growing up in the US does leave me a little uninformed.) If you can get past any errors, please feel free to enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, if I did Moffat would be doing the same things he makes his characters do as punishment for so many feels.

John (In a 3rd-person-y-kind-of-way (and yes, just feel free to assume that from now on)):

He thought it was just another case. Another way to keep Sherlock from knocking Mrs. Hudson's wall down and wasting whatever bullets were still lying around the house somewhere. Never had John been more wrong in his life.

Lestrade wanted their help, Sherlock had said. The criminal in question was (obviously according to Sherlock) hiding somewhere close with easy access to his assets. But when the man dashed around a dark corner after they found him and Sherlock immediately gave chase, everything went wrong. John lost the both of them one too many times, and when he caught up, Sherlock was lying uselessly on the ground like a rag doll. Was there a pulse? Yes, and thankfully a strong one. Any broken bones? No, but there was a cut on the head from some blunt instrument. Slight concern, but he looked like he would live. Did he regain consciousness? Eventually, but Sherlock just wasn't quite the same.

Sherlock (1st person (keep assuming Sherlock is 1st person until told otherwise, please)):

At first, the only thing I felt was a throbbing coming from…somewhere on my head. It hurt too much all over to pinpoint where exactly I was hurt. The second thing I noticed was a man yelling and shaking me. I must have groaned, alerting him I was regaining consciousness. I tried to make out what he was saying.

"-Lock! Sherlock, wake UP!"

I cracked my eye open a little. Sherlock? Who was Sherlock? Was he talking to me? And then with my third realization that I could not remember anything, my name, my house, my entire life, I promptly lost consciousness again.

John:

John saw Sherlock stir and moan a little. A spark of relief set John's will aflame as he tried to rouse Sherlock awake and into a sitting position. But all this wound up doing was causing him to crack open one eye, and immediately close it and pass out again. In that split second, though, was an expression that shook John to the bone. In that split second, Sherlock seemed to be…confused. Not just about lying on the ground in the middle of London, though. This confusion seemed to spark from John calling Sherlock's name. But…why? John shuddered the reasons aside and immediately started to dial Lestrade.

A/N (Part 2): So posting of this will probably be sporadic or suddenly stop if I decide to drop it. Sorry for anyone who cares, but being a high school student is not exactly easy, and finding time to write this could pose a challenge. Hopefully I can get a second chapter up, but when Sherlock fully regains consciousness…how am I supposed to reintroduce him to everyone? Hmm…my muse is in for it. Follow, favorite, or review if you wish!