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"You just got knocked on your head, Lestrade. I'm not sure you ought to leave your flat. However," he offered, "some place around here must deliver. Not pizza, though, I beg you. We English simply do not do it right."

"I don't want to wait on some stupid delivery. I'm starving and I'm getting claustrophobic in here," she countered. "I don't want to sit around and brood about what I don't know; I want to do something!"

"Whining, Lestrade?"

"Cranky. As in 'I get cranky when I'm not fed.'"

"I can make you something. It would certainly be quicker."

She threw back, "My fridge is empty; gotta go to the grocery tomorrow...." Her voice trailed off. "Not again."

"It's a good sign," he said, looking at her encouragingly. "It means your memory is still there, and your brain is finding ways to get back into it."

"Then why doesn't it feel like a good sign?" She looked down. "I hate being in limbo like this. I don't know what I know and what I don't, or who I am and who I'm not."

"Some people would regard that as a wonderful bit of freedom," Holmes observed.

"It doesn't feel like that to me. I feel as ungrounded as a piece of space junk." She sighed. "I could be anyone, you know, even a criminal. After all, I've only got your word for it."

"And since you only know the universe through your senses and your brain, possibly everyone else in a figment of your imagination."

"Well, yeah...."

Holmes rolled his eyes. "I thought that was where this was going. I think I traveled this road back in University." He turned serious. "Be as paranoid as you like, Lestrade, but don't distrust your senses and your deductive powers." He waved a hand at all that was around them. "Every object in your flat tells a little bit about your life. Listen to them. Watch and listen to the world around you, and learn as much as you can. I can promise it won't be long before you stop feeling out of place."

She didn't know much about herself, but she knew she hated getting help almost as much as she hated needing it. "What do you know about it! You can't know how I feel. Nothing like this ever happened to you!"

He smiled rather wryly. "I didn't lose my memory when I was brought back to life, but I certainly felt out of place."

"Oh." She felt like a heel. Not that she'd known, of course. But a guy from Victorian times had to get here somehow. She wondered how it had happened.

"Now," Holmes went on briskly, "you're healthy enough to argue with me so you're probably healthy enough to go eat. I don't know this area of New London as well as I'd like," he reluctantly admitted, "but I've seen a lot of boxes from Kochanski's in your cruiser's trash receptacle, and the address is just down the street. Shall we go?"

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On to Part 4!