The flat was quiet with only the almost distant sound of a clock ticking, ticking, and ticking. I tap my fingers restlessly on the arm of my chair as the clock ticks and ticks. I could hear it. It seemed to be getting louder but even farther away. The most annoying of all the sounds were the most quiet. The tickling was mocking me saying: "Why are you sitting alone Sherlock? You haven't a case because no one will come to you. No one's coming..." I shouted and jumped up from the arm chair and ran to the bookshelf where the heartless clock sat and I threw it across the room. It hit the wall making a large gash in the wall and sending little clock bits all across the room. Then the ticking returned, but it was the rapid beating of my own heart. Complete silence didn't exist, but I had never yearned for it quite as much as I did at that moment. I ran my fingers through my hair making it a good deal messier than it already was, but I didn't care. I plopped down on the couch and pressed my fingers against my temples and shut my eyes.A few hours later, Mrs. Hudson come into the room with a tray of tea. I didn't need to open my eyes to know it was her. I recognized her step pattern as she hobbled up the old, wooden stair case.

"Sherlock...." He voice was dripping with concern.

"What," I replied flatly.

"Sherlock you haven't left the flat for a week. You need to go out and find a case," Mrs. Hudson said as she prepared the cup of tea and set it on the side table. She grabbed the other untouched cup of tea from yesterday and poured its contents into the sink.

"Why do you have the need to bother me? I leave you alone," I sighed.

"Sherlock, are you sure you're quite well?"

I ignored her and she eventually left without another word. I sat up and walked to the window and looked out at the London streets. I'd overlooked this street countless time, but this past week, it was different. Something was missing and I didn't know what it was.

It wasn't John because he's moved out weeks ago and I didn't even notice his absence on most occasions. It was driving me to madness. And then, the door bell rang. I glanced downward from the window at the door and saw a brown haired woman standing there and the moment I laid my eyes on her, a sharp pain ripped through my skull and I winced and fell to the floor. I felt as if I were being stabbed by thousands of needles and my vision went blurry.

After a few seconds my visions cleared and the pain ceased just enough for me to stand and make my way to to door. I gripped the handrail tightly to ensure I wouldn't go tumbling down the stairs. I flung open the door and the woman gasped as if I were some sort of axe murderer.

"Sherlock.....oh my god!" She covered her mouth and a tear rolled down her face. "You're alive!"

"Yes, and so are you. Goodness that was a pleasant game. Goodbye," I turned and slammed the door in the woman's face. I turned to walk back up the stairs, but what the woman shouted up the stairs made me stop in my tracks:

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, if you think you can get away with slamming the door in my face you've clearly been "dead" for longer than I thought!" She shouted.

My name. Only a few people knew my full name and I didn't know how she knew. And she spoke to me like she had been speaking to me like that for years. And I didn't let just anyone speak to me how they pleased. Something was off about this. Very off. I recalled her appearance and made a list in my head of all the things I'd discovered about this woman:

1. She'd been going to get married but for some reason it didn't work out. But it wasn't a break up sort of thing because she wouldn't have kept the ring on a necklace.

2. She had a very pretty appearance and didn't have to try hard at it, so she must have had someone whom was also a very difficult person to convince to win over romantically.

The woman banged on the door with her fist and I slowly opened the door.

"How do you know my name?"

The woman gave me an irritated scowl. "Sherlock, you're kidding right? This isn't funny,"

"I don't know who you are!" I replied.

The woman's face turned grave and she looked as if she'd just lost everything that she thought she'd had. She stepped closer to me and I looked at her.

"Sherlock, what happened? You look like you haven't eaten, slept, or done anything for weeks! You haven't shaved and your hair is a mess!" Her face kept switching emotions as if she had so many, she couldn't decide which to show on her face. I grabbed her wrist and forcefully pulled her into the flat and slammed the door behind her.

"What do you want? Who are you and how do you know my name?! Tell me or I swear to God, I will shoot you."

The woman reached behind her and pull a gun out of her back pocket.

"Not if I shoot you first, Holmes," She raised an eyebrow daring me to say anything else. I snorted and turned on my heel and walked up the stairs and the woman followed me. I entered back into my sitting rooms and plopped down onto my arm chair.

"Would you like to-"

The woman walked past the chair I was going to offer her to sit in and she marched into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards.

"You've moved the sugar....where is it now?" She asked casually.

"How the hell did you know where I put my sugar?!" I said running my fingers though my hair.

"Ah! There it is!" She said ignoring my question.

I decided that she wasn't going to answer my questions until she wanted to so I sat quietly drumming my fingers on the arm of the chair. A few minutes later, the woman handed me a cup of coffee.

"Here: you're going to need this if we're going to have a normal conversation," She walked towards the chair that used to be John's and she sat in it. I held the cup in my hands letting it warm me up and I looked at it carefully.

"Is it-" I began.

"Black, two sugars? Yes," she finished for me and I was once again flabbergasted by her omniscient knowledge of me.

"That's nice, but I can't drink this," I set the cup aside and she gave me a funny look. "I don't know a thing about you. I'm not drinking that until I can trust you," I said flatly.

The woman sighed, "God you're-" she paused and looked underneath the couch and I saw she'd noticed my box. She also noticed the broken clock carcass that lay on the floor. I didn't know who this woman was, but I knew she'd put the pieces together.

She reached under the couch and grabbed the box. I shot up from my chair and snatched the box from her hands.

"That's mine," I said turning away from her.

"Sherlock! You can't be doing this to yourself again!!!" She shouted at me and I finally snapped. I spun around and put myself inches away from her face.

"I CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT!! AND YOU CANNOT COME INTO MY FLAT AND TELL ME WHAT I CAN AND CANNOT DO! I CAN DO DRUGS AS MUCH AS I PLEASE AND I DO NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT WHAT ANYONE ELSE SAYS ABOUT IT! GET OUT OF MY FLAT. GET THE HELL OUT!" I sighed and collapsed into my chair. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I'm so sorry Sherlock. I don't know who did this to you. I don't know who made you forget and I don't know how you're alive. But I'll be back tomorrow. And we can talk," I heard the woman say something, but I couldn't hear her and then she was gone. And she left me with my problems. Back to square one.