Sorry, couldn't think of a title. Well, here goes.

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Inspector Beth Lestrade sighed as she walked towards her apartment. It had been a long day, and she was ready to take a shower and go to bed. She could even skip the shower.

As she raised the key to open her door, a voice cried out. "Look out!" Lestrade looked around to where the voice had come from. Her eyes widened just before she was knocked down by a kid running at full speed, trying to get away from a constable. As she fell, her head connected with the doorframe and she lost consciousness.

She awoke to the sound of voices. As she opened her eyes, she saw several unfamiliar faces. If she knew them, she couldn't remember it. Then it dawned on her. She couldn't remember who she was, either.

None of the three people in the room seemed to have noticed she was awake, so she cleared her throat. They all looked at her happily.

"Oh, good," said a young man in a police uniform. "I didn't think you'd ever wake up, Inspector."

"Am I an inspector then?" she asked softly.

Instantly everyone began muttering amongst themselves. Then a man with slightly greying hair and a white labcoat asked, "What is your name, dear?"

She closed her eyes and concentrated hard, but all it did was make her head ache. "I...I don't... remember," she said, hesitatingly.

The man, whom she had by now determined was a doctor, sighed. "I was afraid this might happen," he said sadly. "It is one of the dangers of a head injury."

"What do you mean?" the policeman demanded.

"She has amnesia."

Amnesia? But if she had amnesia, how could she remember what a constable uniform looked like, how a doctor acted, and what an inspector was? She groaned as these thoughts raced through her mind. "Look," she said, "could someone just tell me who I am and why I'm here?"

The third man in the room suddenly spoke up. "Your name is Beth Lestrade, and you are here because you were found unconscious on your doorstep. This is your living room, by the way."

She blinked. She noticed in a detached manner that he was rather good-looking. "Are you a friend of mine?" she questioned.

"You might say that," he replied. "I am Sherlock Holmes."

"From the stories?"

He frowned. "You remember the accounts that Dr Watson wrote. What is the year?"

"2104," she answered promptly.

"What is today's date?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"This is not unheard of," the doctor suddenly put in. "Many amnesiacs have only partial memory loss. In the Inspector's case, her personal memories have been erased, so to speak."

She sighed, just wishing they would go away. The doctor and policeman, that is. She didn't mind Sherlock Holmes.

That same man must have read her thoughts, because he suddenly said, "I think that what the Inspector needs now is rest. I'll call you, Doctor Phillips, if anything occurs. And Constable, don't you need to file a report of the incident?"

They both left the apartment.

"Do you want me to stay here with you, or do you think you can manage on your own?" he questioned her.

"Stay here, please."

He nodded, and she drifted off to sleep.

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On to Part 2!