JohnLock 3: Missing Sherlock

Meeting Milo and Molly

"Mama, is he going to be all right?"

"I don't know, Honey. I hope so. We're going to do the best we can to see that he gets well." Milo slid over against her and snuggled into a hug.

"He seems to be a nice man, I think. He could be a Daddy, couldn't he?" Molly, fearing that he meant his Daddy just murmured a non-committal something. "If he doesn't get better he can't go home to his kid, like Daddy. I know how sad his kid will be." Eyes moist and throat achy, Molly picked Milo up and set him on her knee, hugging him tight.

"We'll do everything we can think of to make him better. Now you go to bed, and I'll sit up with him." She shoved Milo in the direction of her bed and turned her attention back to the gentleman, resuming her nursing duties, praying that her efforts would be successful. After a couple days of barely breathing and constant almost round the clock attention, Sherlock began tossing his arms around on Molly's cot, mumbling and occasionally crying out.  Molly heard him moaning and hurried to his side, in case she needed to help him, or if he displayed violence, to restrain him.  

Suddenly he sat up, awake and alert.  He looked around the small room cautiously, lifting a hand to his pounding head. Seeing a young woman standing next to him, he slowly raised his eyes to her face. She was displaying concern and not a little agitation.  "Sir, how are you feeling?" she queried quietly.

Sherlock blinked his eyes and glanced worriedly at the young woman's face.  "I... I don't know what I ...Where am I?"  With a little more force, he asked brusquely, "Who are you?"  Then, with a flash of panic, "Who... who am I?"  Molly's brows flew to her hairline.  She glanced around uncertainly, as if someone could tell her.

"I'm sorry, sir.  I was waiting for you to awaken, so that we might determine your name... or where you came from."

"Where I came from?" He lifted his hands, palms down, and looked straight ahead, trying to compose himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. Lowering his hands to the bed, he opened his eyes and gazed cautiously at Molly's face.  "Please... let me catch up here. From the beginning as you know it... Please tell me what has happened..."

Molly blinked rapidly. "Okay." She moved closer to where he sat on his bed and dropped onto a small stool at his feet. "First, my name is Molly.  A couple days ago, my son found you on the beach, you having washed up on shore with a rather large dog, the two of you lying on a wooden door."  Locke raised a hand to stop her a moment.

"A wooden door?"

She smiled a not-quite-smile and continued, "Yes, sir.  You were lying unconscious on a wooden door, it evidently having come off a boat, with the dog lying on his side next to you. The dog was wearing a collar with his name on it: "Shelby's Mariner".  We thought your name must be Shelby, and the dog was Mariner.  The dog and Milo... He's my son... helped me get you back here to the house. You've been unconscious for two whole days.  We've been very worried about you."

Sherlock frowned and shook his head slowly. "Shelby?"

"That's not your name?"

"I don't know. It could be, but I can't... remember.  Let me get this straight.  A dog and I came ashore on a beach near here?"  Molly nodded eagerly.  "I've been unconscious for two days?"  She nodded one time again. "I just now woke up?"

"Yes, sir.  For the first time in all that time.  And now you don't remember who you are?  Amnesia sometimes clears up very quickly.  You do have a head injury."  She scooted over to sit on the edge of the bed and perched next to him, touching the back of his head gingerly.  He reached up to grab her wrist as her fingers brushed through his hair. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? You have a wound that was bleeding when we first found you. "