Satin and Twine

“You were in the water for close to an hour before you were found.” John said from the chair at my bedside. “When Mary came to get Sherlock you were in the living room so they thought you were safe. Shortly after they left Mrs. Hudson heard a crash and you screamed. You and the kidnappers were gone before she made it up the stairs.”

I nodded slowly, my eyes glued to my hands in my lap. I wanted to look up at him, the man standing in the threshold with his hands in his pockets. Why was he here? What purpose did he serve? He was John’s friend, not mine, and John was fine. But still he stood in the doorway, those cold grey eyes burning holes through my skull as he appraised me. His gaze was calculating, observing, his thoughts ran across his eyes but I couldn’t even begin to guess at what he was thinking. I got the sense not many could.

“The conditions you were found in…” Mary began; there was concern and reluctance in her voice. Her eyes darted to John who gave her a small smile and a guested for her to continue. “The condition in the freezer Hypothermia should have killed you in less than forty-five minutes. However, you regain consciousness while you were being wheeled to the ambulance so we think you lasted at least fifty-five minutes.”

I licked my lips and nodded again, my eyes flickering between them before flashing over to the man in the doorway, “And… my memories?”

John and Mary exchanged a look, both of them glancing at him as well before looking back at me. John leaned forward and clasped his hands together, “You… You died, Freya, for at least five minutes. That’s five minutes your brain went without oxygen.” He glanced at the man again, “A few missing days is blessing compared to what could have happened.”

The man turned and walked out the door. John looked at Mary, who nodded, before leaving as well. I watched them go and felt a frown flicker across my otherwise passive face. I was happy to watch them go, happy to have the pressure of his presence lifted, but I also felt like I was being gutted again. John and the man disappeared down the hall and Mary took John’s seat beside my bed. I looked at her and could see the quiet curiosity and sorrow in her eyes.

“A few missing days,” I quoted her fiancée, as my gaze dropped down to my hands again. I couldn’t look at those eyes, I couldn’t handle the pity. All my life I have never needed anyone’s pity and I found the thought unpleasant now. “How many days am I missing exactly?”

“Four.”

I swallowed, cocking my head to the side. My eyes stayed glued to my hands as I gripped the soft pink, almost beige, blanket that covered me, “And… what happened over these four days?”

She hesitated and my eyes snapped to her. I raised my head back up and she held her palms up in an attempt to calm me, “Before you get angry, I want to tell you everything.”

“Then tell me-”

She shook her head, “I can’t, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

“You have to remember by yourself,” She said reaching for my hand, “That’s the point of all this.”

I frowned, “Point of what?”

She smiled softly, “It’s not important. If I tell you what happened these last couple days you won’t try to remember. That means all your thoughts, your emotions, and words will be lost. The Doctor said I could tell you a few things, things you absolutely had to know, but nothing else.”

My hands were balled into fists, “Such as?”

“Well,” she began with a small smile on her face; “you finally moved out of that dump you called a flat.”

“I did?” I raised an eyebrow, “Where do I live now?”

“Baker Street,” she said with a knowing smile, “You also have a flat mate-“

“I guessing silver eyes was him,” I said gesturing towards the door where he once stood.

She looked surprised, “How’d you know that? Are you starting to re-”

“It’s the only reason he would be here,” I smirked stopping her sentence short. “Well, the only reason that made sense.” She didn’t say anything. Her face, however, was worth a thousand words. She looked at me with sad eyes. Her lips curved just slightly into a frown. It wasn’t the look you gave a friend when they were clever. It was the look you gave them when they lost something and you weren’t sure what to do. It was pity, and it made my blood boil.

“So,” I shrugged, breaking the tension, “Who is he? I’d venture to say he was a friend of John’s but I didn’t think he had friends outside the two of us. He never talks about anyone much.”

“He has friends,” she laughed but there was a strain in her voice, something that peaked my interest. “It’s just… complicated”

“I’ve got more than enough time.” I said as she met my eyes again.

“I just don’t want to tell you too much,” she said shifting in the chair, “but, I suppose you need to know this. His name is Sherlock Holmes, he’s a-“

“Consulting Detective,” I raised an eyebrow as I finished her sentence, “I remember hearing about him a few years ago. The smart ass with a funny hat… I thought he jumped off a building.”

“He did, but he survived.” She shrugged, “John was the blogger that made him famous. They were, and still are, best friends but Sherlock lied to him about his death. John’s not going to forgive him so easily.”

“I’d imagine so.” I sighed, butting my lip as I look towards the window. The sky was a dull grey, the clouds stretched across the sky. “Four days… I’ve missed so much.”

“Don’t worry Freya,” she said reaching forward to take my hand again. “You’ll remember, I'm sure of it.”

“Is there nothing more you can tell me?” I asked, “A hint of a hint or something in between?”

She shook her head slowly, a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I’m so sorry, I-I just can’t.”

I nodded, my gaze falling to the soft pink blanket that covered me, “It-it’s okay,” I swallowed hard. “I thought it might be a long shot but I had to try.”

“Freya,” she whispered, squeezing my hand to draw my eyes back to her, “Don’t give up, you WILL remember; I know you will. The key to what was lost lies in the past.”

My eyes narrowed, “What are you talking about? Is a riddle supposed to make me feel better?”

“I just think that the best way to remember what was lost is to remember what lead to these events.” She said with earnest and encouraging smile. “Remember what brought you to Baker Street.”

“John brought me to Baker Street,” I said turning my head away to look out the window. “So what?”

“So how did you meet John?” she asked standing up from her chair and walking around to the foot of the bed. “Freya… how did your adventure begin?”

I slowly turned my head to look at her, my blue eyes meeting her grey-green one as I opened my mouth to answer her. “The same way any good adventure begins I suppose. I went to the clinic for a sprain in my hand and I guess all the characters were brought together.”

She inclined her head, “And they were?”

I blinked, “You know-”

“Tell me anyway.”

I paused a moment and turned my chin to the side, “The kind nurse, the broken doctor, and the girl with her nose in a book.”