|i calculated the nights you missed
Author: aquestionof-control PM
"What, like run away with you?" Amy asked. Sherlock didn't have a chance to answer before she'd leaned over and kissed him.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Amelia P./Amy & Sherlock H. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,271 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 5 - Published: 08-08-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8409610
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Checking the clock on his phone screen, Sherlock frowned faintly when he saw that the time had only changed by two minutes. It felt like it had been much longer than that. Closing his eyes, he slumped further down along the bench. Fifty-six more minutes, and he was out of Leadworth. Again. If their mother hadn't been so pleased about Mycroft dragging him home, Sherlock wouldn't have bothered staying the last week.
He opened his eyes to check the time again - surely it had been more than two minutes this time - and found a tall girl standing in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes shooting daggers at him. It wasn't the first time a girl had given him an angry look, but usually it was after they'd tried to engage him in conversation. "Hello?"
"How long have you been in town?" The Scottish accent made him widen his eyes. He gave the girl another, more minute look. Amelia didn't look much like the little girl he'd left behind three years ago. For one thing, Amelia had never directed that look at him.
"Tuesday," he said, trying to reconcile this leggy, grown up looking teenager with the Amelia he remembered.
That must have been the wrong answer, because her eyes narrowed. "You've been here for a week?"
Sherlock didn't understand why she was upset with him. And he still had another fifty-two minutes left until the train. "Mycroft insisted."
"And, what, you couldn't say hi?" She asked scathingly. "I know you can't pick up a phone, but you could've come to the house. Aunt Sharon never scared you before."
"Amy," she corrected.
Sherlock tilted his head. "Since when?"
"Since I got too old for fairy tales."
Suddenly Sherlock was reminded of a wide-eyed little girl talking about a raggedy doctor calling her name a bit fairy tale. The idea of Amelia - Amy - letting go of the Doctor didn't particularly bother him. Rory had likely been elated about it. But he wondered if that had something to do with her anger. "I'm going back to London."
"Yeah, I noticed," she said.
"You should too," he countered, and was pleased to see surprise replace the anger in her face.
"What, like run away with you?" Amy asked. Sherlock didn't have a chance to answer before she'd leaned over and kissed him.
For a moment Sherlock's brain seemed to stop working, focusing solely on the feel of her mouth on his. Then it was moving on overdrive, cataloguing everything from Amy's hands holding the back of the bench on either side of him to the toe of her converse stepping on the toe of his shoe to her hair falling on the side of his face. He had barely reacted before she broke the kiss, and he found himself wishing she hadn't moved. She studied his face, and he wondered if she was going to kiss him again. And how he felt about that. He didn't have a chance to figure it out because she pulled back and straightened up, tossing her hair out of her face. "Think I'll pass," Amy finally said. "Bye, Sherlock."
When she turned and walked away, he didn't try to stop her. He watched her for a second before dropping his gaze down to his phone. Forty-nine minutes.