A/N: Well hello Everyone. Glad you decided to read this story. I don't own Sherlock nor do I work for the BBC. I'm not even British. But please enjoy review when you're done. Thank you.

John Watson sat up waiting for his lover for the past four hours. Sherlock had woken up in the middle of the night and ran of telling John to stay behind and that everything would be fine. Now John was sitting there worried. He thought about when he first met Sherlock and the two had moved in. Why did he stay? Sherlock was odd and unconventional. From the strange hours to the shooting to the body parts.

Sherlock Holmes the world's only consulting detective. A high functioning sociopath and John's lover. John's phone rang and John jumped across the room for it. "Hello?"

"We've got him john. He's a little worse for wear but there's something else." Lestrade trailed off. "What?"

"You just better come down to the hospital. I'll meet you out front." Lestrade said hanging up. John wasted no time and grabbed his coat before running out the door. Not bothering with a taxi John ran all the way to the hospital. What could have happened to Sherlock? His Sherlock.

"Why do I put up with it? Between the constant holes in the wall and the knives in the ceiling. The body parts in the kitchen and the bloody severed head in the fridge. You stay up at odd hours playing that god-forsaken violin which I doubt you can ever play. That's even including your experiments. You are the most insufferable man in London-no in the world." John yelled.

"Then why do you stay?" Sherlock asked the question with such ease. He still had that look on his face the one that he always wore but John saw a glint of something in the man's eyes. Loneliness perhaps-no hurt.

John stopped. Why did he stay if Sherlock was all these things? John couldn't ignore it anymore the reason he put up with the man was because he was in love with him. John had felt it the moment he met the man. Something about hi9m. The way he deduced or the way he could pick a person's life apart to know everything about them.

"Because I love you." John said. Sherlock looked at the man shocked. No one had ever told Sherlock that they loved him. Aside from his mother and father and when they were young maybe once or twice Mycroft.

John reached the hospital. Lestrade was they're waiting as promised. "Did you really run all the way here?" Lestrade asked. "What happened? Where is he?" John panted. "He doesn't remember anything. We found him over an hour ago near the Thames and he was just standing there. When I called to him he didn't move not even a twitch. I thought he didn't hear me or had gotten into one of those moods of his. When I put my hand on his shoulder he looked at me as if he didn't know who I was. When I said his name he just looked at me." Lestrade said.

"Where is he?" John asked. "Come on." Lestrade led him to the Room where Sherlock was sleeping. Sherlock didn't look any different. Just tired and worn out. "Are you family to Mr. Holmes?" the doctor asked. "Yes."

"He's suffering from amnesia. It's not permanent. It'll come back with time. But he'll need help to adjust to everything again. Take him places he's been see if you can jog his memory again. But take it slows too much at one time can have negative effects on him. When he wakes up he can leave. He's got a few cuts and bruises but those will heal in a few days." The doctor left.

John sighed before walking into the room to sit by Sherlock.

John and Sherlock got caught in the rain and had to run all the way from the crime scene to their flat. They were both drenched in the rain. They had established a relationship of sorts. They didn't share a bed yet. No it was still to early for that. They hadn't done much more then kiss and cuddle on the couch but nothing more then that.

John took the taller man's face in his hands and brought him down for a kiss. Before they knew it they were on John's bed down to their underwear both with straining erections. What happened next was all a blur to them. But when John woke up the next morning they were wrapped around each other content with it all.

"Who are you?" John was brought out of his memory and looked down at the man in the bed. "I'm John Watson. Your flatmate." John smiled. "Do flatmates usually visit their flatmates in the hospital?" Sherlock asked. "Sometimes." John smiled. Sherlock didn't know why but the man before him seemed so familiar but he couldn't place it. He wanted to say he knew the man but he didn't.

"What happened to me? I remember waking up in an alley way and found myself by the river and now we're here." Sherlock asked. "I don't know. But I'll help all I can to help you remember. What do you remember?" John asked. "They keep calling me Sherlock and if they keep calling me that then it must be my name." Sherlock said. "You don't like it?" John asked. "No it's not that I like it fine. But it's not something you hear everyday it's. It's not like a John, David, or Joseph."

"I always liked the way your named sounded. When I was a child I always had to share a classroom with two or maybe three Johns. At least no one would mistake you when your name is said." John smiled. "I guess you're right. When can I leave I don't it here." John smiled. Sherlock never liked hospitals. Wasn't in favor of doctors either unless it was one unparticular. "I'll go ask for your clothes we'll get you signed out and home."

An hour later they walked through the front door. "Well this is it. 221b Baker street. Come on." John led the way upstairs showing Sherlock into the sitting room. John stood back as Sherlock looked around. "It seems familiar but I don't remember any of it." Sherlock frowned. "Well the chair is usually where I sit, you have a thing for the couch. Most of the time you stay there for days on end. Sometimes you won't even move."

Sherlock shrugged off his jacket and hung it up and kicked off his shoes before flopping onto the couch. "I can see why I like this couch. It's comfortable." Sherlock smiled at John settling in.

~ONE WEEK LATER~

Sherlock had gotten used to Baker street. It was everything else that was the problem. Sherlock was picking people apart again the next day when he and John went for a walk to try and spark his memory. But nothing happened. John had a bit of a job trying to get Sherlock to eat. The man as was his usual refused to eat even the smallest bit. Just tea.

Sherlock was still Sherlock in a way. Staying up at odd hours of the night and going days without sleep. He'd gone four and had poked at the body parts that sat in the kitchen. Sherlock was bored, as his usual John was always there to try and curb his destructive habits. But Sherlock needed simulation. His mind craved it as well as his body. John knew of one simulation that would work for both him and his lover but he couldn't because his lover didn't know they were lovers.

John tossed and turned every night for the first week. It was unbearable to sleep alone when he had been sharing a bed with the detective for the last six months. Sherlock had picked up on it but didn't want to pry. He already knew what was wrong with his flatmate. "Nightmares of the things you've seen in battle?" Sherlock said one day.

John looked at the man. "How did you know I war in the war?" John asked. "You have a tan on your face and wrist but no where else. You continually roll your shoulder when you've leaned or lain on it for far to long. When it rains you have a slight limp. That and last night you were crying for someone to stay with you and to not give up." Sherlock said. "Well done. When we met I was using a cane but that's over now." John said. They settled into silence.

"John there's something you're not telling me. I felt you looking at me the other day and the day before that. I don't know why but there's something I should know. Something about you and me and you know it but you won't tell me." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock we've been flatmates for the past year and a half. We haven't just met we've been sharing this place for eighteen months. I'm a doctor and you're a consulting detective. I sometimes well all the time go on cases with you." John said. Sherlock cocked his head to one side and studied the man. There was still something the blonde was holding back but Sherlock did have most of his question answered.

"Come on." Sherlock jumped up from the couch and went for his coat. "What?" "We're going out I want to remember you but I can't There's so much I'm missing and I don't like it. All I know is from when I woke up in that alley and I want to know everything before that." Sherlock said. "Well then let's gets going." John said. They walked down the street to the Chinese restaurant.

"We usually get food from here when I can get you to eat that is." John said. "Food distracts my mind and I can't function." Sherlock protested. "It's a wonder how you can do anything or run the way you do. It hard to keep up with you when you've got a scent. Your brother always said you had been skinny even as a boy." John said.

"I have a brother?" Sherlock asked. "Yes. His name is Mycroft. You don't like him very much and you can't stand when he shows up. You and him share the same gift for deducing." John smiled. "Why do I get the odd feeling that my brother is a bit on the large side?" Sherlock wondered. "Because he is. He also carries an umbrella with him constantly. Haven't a clue as to why." John smiled.

They walked around further. Going up and down London from Barts to the hospital. From the police head quarters to the Thames. Sherlock felt a headache begin to start behind his eyes. "John can we go back my head hurts?" John nodded and called for a cab. They rode in silence all the way back to Baker Street. Sherlock put himself on the sofa and closed his eyes. John gave Sherlock something to ease the pain before retiring to his own room for a nap.

The next morning John woke up to find Sherlock sitting on the couch thinking. "John Last night I had a dream about two people. A man and a woman I feel like I'd seen them before but I don't know. Could they be my parents?" Sherlock asked.

"If you saw a picture of them again would you be more sure." Sherlock nodded. "Wait here." John ran to Sherlock's room and went to his closet to dig up the photo of the man's parents before going back to him. "Are these the people you saw?" John showed Sherlock the photo. "Yes."

"Their your mother and father. Your mother's name is Eileen and your father name is Siger." John said. "I come from a family of people with strange names don't I?" Sherlock asked. "You said you liked your name." John grinned. "And I do. John can I ask a favor of you?"

"Anything Sherlock."

"Would you mind accompanying to meet my parents?" Sherlock asked. "Not at all Sherlock. Not at all. I have to make a few phones before we embark on this trip and you'll be needing to pack a few days clothes just incase you wish to stay for a few days." John said. "Alright." Sherlock left the room to go pack. John pulled out his cell phone and called Mycroft.

"He wants to go home see if anything trigger's his memory. He said he had a dream of two people his parents now he wants to go meet them. I was wondering if you could tell them the situation if you already haven't...You have good. We'll be on the next train out there. We'll meet you there." John hung up and called the train station for them to reserved two tickets. John went to go pack and met Sherlock at the foot of the stairs.

"Ready to go?" John asked. Sherlock nodded. "And john."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." Sherlock smiled. "No problem." John smiled as they loaded into the taxi.