Word Count: 4417
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Ages: I tried to stick to their canon ages, so Sherlock is about ten or so years older than Amy.
Note: I started this over a month ago, but it just took me forever to finish it. The title and lyrics are inspired by Liisakee's Sherlock/Amy video on YouTube.

You keep passing me by
We're just wasting time
Trying to prove who's right

Ships in the Night, Mat Kearney

Amelia Pond is eight-years-old the first time she goes to London. Aunt Sharon drags her there because her friend, Miss Holmes, lives there. Amelia doesn't like it – what if the Doctor comes back? He promised he would! What if he comes and she's not there and he thinks she doesn't want to go with him anymore?

Aunt Sharon lets her leave a note on the (new, not broken) shed in the garden, and promises to take her to the museum and buy her an ice cream if she behaves. Amelia has to think about it, but she agrees in the end. If the Doctor has a time machine then he can come and find her in London, right?

The drive is long and boring and Aunt Sharon yells at her when she plays with the radio, but that's nothing compared to how boring Miss Holmes's house is. It's big and has a lot of rooms, but Aunt Sharon doesn't let her explore any of them. Instead, Miss Holmes tells her son to look after her, even though Amelia is eight years old and doesn't need looking after.

Sherlock is boring. He's tall and old enough to be in uni and doesn't let her touch the cool skull on his desk. He tells her to sit still and be quiet, while he spends all his time playing with a microscope. So Amelia waits until he's too busy to pay attention to her (which doesn't take long) before she sneaks out of the room.

The house has a lot of rooms but almost all of them are locked. There's a library, but it doesn't have a swimming pool so even that's boring. Still, it has a desk and some pens and paper, so she decides that it will have to do for now. She's putting the finishing touches on the stars in her drawing when Sherlock comes into the library.

Amelia barely glances up at him. "Took ya' long enough."

He frowns and crosses his arms. "I had more important things to focus on."

She shrugs. "Sounds boring."

"It isn't," he says. She doesn't answer. After a moment, Sherlock comes closer and leans over her shoulder and looks at her drawing. "Wrong," he says suddenly.


"Your drawing. Policebox doors open the other way. The 'pull' sign on your door clearly indicates that so I don't know how you managed to get that wrong. Also, considering the model, the shade of blue is off. Not to mention obvious fact that they don't belong in space. Your drawing is wrong."

Amelia rolls her eyes. "That's because it's not really a policebox. It's a time machine. Duh."

Sherlock scoffs. "No such thing."

"Is too! The Doctor told me so. He's a time traveller!"

"Obviously your Doctor is a liar."

She glares.

He crosses his arms.

A little later, when Aunt Sharon finds out, she drags her to the car screaming her head off. Honestly, her aunt cries, what on earth is wrong with her? What sort of child bites people? Amelia watches her aunt with an amused grin–she's rather funny looking when he face gets all red like that.

That is until Aunt Sharon tells her that there's no way she's getting her ice cream or museum trip now. She'll be lucky if she ever gets to see ice cream again. Amelia tries to protest – Sherlock started it! He deserved it! – but her aunt won't hear it. So she spends the car ride back to Leadworth pouting in her seat with her arms crossed, listening to Aunt Sharon scream about how much trouble she's in.

She hates Sherlock Holmes.


It's Mel's twentieth birthday the next time Amy goes to London. She's older, fierier, and ready for a fun weekend with her best friend. The two of them together? London won't have any idea what hit them.

It's nearly seven at night by the time they check into their hotel room. They freshen up and decide that first they'll have dinner and then find somewhere to spend for the rest of the night. Those plans change before Amy can even order her meal; it takes Mels less than two minutes to find a cute bartender at the restaurant and she immediately finds a seat at the bar. Amy considers joining her, but before she can, she catches a glimpse of a slightly familiar face eating dinner alone. It takes her a few moments to recognise it, but the moment she realises who he is, a wicked grin tugs at her lips and she takes her drink to him.

Amy pulls up a chair as if she's completely welcomed, even though she doubts he recognises her yet. "Well, if it isn't Sherlock Holmes."

He looks up and gives her an annoyed look. "Do I know you?"

"Aw, don't tell me you've forgotten me already. You can't have that many awful babysitting experiences, can ya?" She frowns. "Actually, maybe you could. You're not exactly the sitter type, are ya?"

He stares at her and she can see the recognition appear in his eyes. "Amelia Pond." It isn't a question.

"Took ya' long enough." She grins and steals a chip off of his plate.

"Tell me, do you always bite people who disagree with you?"

She shrugs. "Only when they're annoying."

"Your drawing was wrong."

"Oi," she protests, pointing a finger at him "At least I didn't talk to skulls."

An amused smile pulls at his lips. It's small, but definitely there. "Tell me, Amelia, did you ever find that time travelling doctor of yours?" he asks. She knows he probably means it as a joke or or some sort of rubbish conversation starter or something, but Amy's eyes widen and she instinctively avoids Sherlock's gaze. He straightens in his seat immediately. "Oh, you did. Interesting. Judging by your reaction it ended poorly."

"Shut up."

"Very poorly by your avoidance of the topic altogether. He upset you. But how? Now you wouldn't be so upset if it had just been over a childhood story. It's been more than ten years so you should have moved on by now. There's something else. Let's see, you bit me when I called him a liar, which means you obviously idealised him. Whatever he did destroyed that, and quite recently judging by your sensitivity."

"I said shut up."

"And then there's your engagement ring. It's new, barely worn, so it's a recent engagement. But you're out with your friend and not your fiancé. You also haven't touched or acknowledged your ring the entire time you've been here. You wear it, but you act like it's not actually there. State of your engagement right now. That combined with your Doctor encounter–"

He says more after that, but Amy doesn't hear it. Instead she stands up and pours the rest of her beer on his head. Mels drops her flirting and immediately runs over, but Amy ignores her. Instead she leans forward and meets his gaze. Her eyes glare into his. "You," she snaps, "have no idea what you're talking about."

She doesn't wait for his response. She turns, grabs Mels by the arm, and drags her out. She tells her that she doesn't want to talk about it and Mels quickly drops her questions. They walk back to the hotel in silence and Amy stays furious for the rest of the evening.

Some people never grow up.


After they leave Churchill's bunker, the Doctor promises to take her to a planet. A whole new brilliant and alien world. Thing is, Amy is quickly learning that the Doctor is rubbish when it comes to doing what he's going to say when he says it. Yeah… he takes them to present day Cardiff instead. Cardiff. Not exactly what she had in mind when he said alien.

Apparently there's some sort of time rift here that will help recharge his TARDIS or something like that. The Doctor babbles a bit more, but all she gets from it is that they're stuck and it's going to be at least an hour before they can go to a planet. It doesn't take Amy more than ten minutes to get bored and she slips out the door while the Doctor keeps babbling and tinkering with some wires below the TARDIS counsel.

Amy walks about three blocks before she remembers that there's not exactly anything exciting in Cardiff either. Hell, she probably could have found something more exciting in the TARDIS corridors than walking around in this city. She sighs and turns around, planning on returning to the blue box, but runs into someone instead. An apology dances on her tongue but stops short when she looks up and sees who exactly she ran into.

Sherlock Holmes.

He stares at her, probably just as surprised to see her as she is to see him. "Amelia Pond. Here to assault me again?"

"Well, that depends," she crosses her arms over her chest, "Planning on being an arse anytime soon?" He rolls his eyes but a small, amused grin tugs at his lips. She grins back. "So, what are you doing here anyways? Don't ya live in London? You don't exactly strike me as a Cardiff sorta guy."

"Work," he answers. After a moment, as if it's only an afterthought or something, he asks, "And you?"

"Travelling. The Doctor needed to take a pit stop and he thought Whales would be a good idea for some reason."

"The Doctor?" He gives her a look and she can't tell whether he's interested or annoyed. "What is it with you and that man? Don't tell me you still believe that rubbish time-machine story as well."

Amy frowns. "And what if I do?"

"Then you're an idiot. Time travel isn't possible. Now if you'll excuse me–" He moves to walk past her.

She steps in his way again. "Oi, what makes you so sure? Say it wasn't impossible, it isn't likely yeah, but that doesn't mean it can't happen. And just so you know, it can."

Sherlock stares at her for a moment. "When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Amy stares back at him. It's an odd way of saying it, but she's pretty sure she made her point. It's just as she's about to open her mouth to say so, her phone rings. She glances down at it and a wicked thought crosses her mind. She flips her phone open, tells the Doctor she'll be right there, and immediately hangs up.

"Come on," she grabs Sherlock's arm, "I wanna show you something." He protests, but she doesn't really listen. She drags him back the three blocks until they're back in front of the TARDIS. "Wait here," she tells him.

"Amelia, what are you doing?"

Amy grins at him as she opens the TARDIS door. "Eliminating the impossible."

She hears him question her as she slips into the phonebox but she doesn't say anything. Instead she closes the door and tells the Doctor she's ready for her planet now. The Doctor grins excitedly, but he doesn't blink and sends them away immediately.

Oh, if she could only see the look on Sherlock's face now.


Sometimes she thinks she's going to kill the Doctor. One minute he's telling her they're going to the Trojan Gardens and the next thing she knows, the TARDIS spits her out in some stupid London alleyway and phases off. The Doctor calls to tell her he's having some problems, a few things he needs to sort out, and he'll be there as soon as his Old Girl is fixed. It shouldn't be long, he promises. Ten minutes. Maybe thirty. An hour at the most.

She swears if this turns into another twelve years, she will murder him.

Fortunately, she has a few pounds of Earth money in her pocket. It isn't a whole lot, but it's probably enough to entertain her for the next hour (or several knowing her luck with the Doctor's sense of time; for a Time Lord, he's pretty rubbish when it comes to time). She considers going to the museum or looking through a few small shops, but a small rumble from her stomach changes her mind. She glances around and walks into the first café she finds.

The moment she steps through the door, a familiar voice reaches her ears. She pauses for a second because there's no way it's possible. But after a moment there's no denying it – she'd recognise that voice anywhere! She spots two men sitting in the corner of the café, having dinner and talking about something she doesn't quite catch. And the moment the thought crosses her mind, she knows there's no going back, so she simply walks over.

"Sherlock Holmes," Amy grins as she pulls up a chair.

He stares at her for a moment, clearly surprised to see her, but eventually he gives her that small smile of his. "Amelia Pond."

The man on the other side of Sherlock stares at them. After a moment he clears his throat and holds his hand out. "I'm John, by the way. John Watson."


"So, uh, how do the two of you know each other?" John asks, taking a sip of his beer.

"Sherlock used to babysit me."

John chokes on his beer. Sherlock glares at her, unaffected by his friend's condition. "Babysat. It was only one time," he corrects her. John finally stops choking.

"Good thing too, you were rubbish sitter."

"You bit me."

"You said my drawing was wrong!"

"It was."

"Now we both know that's not true, don't we, Sher-lock?"

Sherlock glares. He can't deny that anymore and they both know it. Amy smirks.

"Speaking of your Doctor," he says instead. "Why are you here? Don't the two of you have travelling to do?"

A frown tugs at her lips, but she doesn't break away from Sherlock's gaze. "We've having a bit of a transportation problem, that's all. Said he'll come and get me when it's taken care of."

"Leaving you alone again? My, this Doctor of yours doesn't sound very reliable."

"Oh, shut up." She rolls her eyes. Her phone rings before Sherlock can even open his mouth to say anything else. She ignores him and answers the Doctor's call.

Which, as it turns out, is not a call to tell her he'll be there soon. No, you see, he's come across a few more problems that he needs to sort out first. Best if she just stays where she is for now; wouldn't be safe for her even if he were able to come and get her. But he'll be there as soon as he can! She tries to protest, but he gets distracted by something in the TARDIS and hangs up on her before she has the chance. Amy glares at her phone.

"Is everything alright?" John asks.

"Not really. My friend's a bit of a moron. He was supposed to come and get me within the hour, but now it looks like it might take a bit longer. Thing is, he doesn't exactly know how much longer. Could be a couple of hours, could be days."

"Why don't you stay at our flat then?" John offers. "That is, if you don't have somewhere else to go."

"Are you sure?" She glances at Sherlock out of the corner of her eyes, not completely sure how okay he would be with having her there. She may need a place to stay, but she knows better than the go where she's not welcome. And things between them, well, they've never exactly been normal. She wouldn't blame him for not wanting her around. But his expression stays neutral, so Amy takes that as a sign that he doesn't actually mind. "Alright," she nods. "Thanks."

They pay for their tab and then Amy follows the flatmates back to 221B Baker Street.


Originally John offers his bed to Amy, even though she tells them that the sofa will be fine. That quickly changes when he gets a phone call from some woman named Victoria, who is apparently John's girlfriend. Who is also supposed to come over tonight. He offers to cancel, but Amy tells him not to worry about it. Really, she'll just take the sofa.

Mrs Hudson, their landlady, won't have it though. She's a sweet old lady – short with a bit of a ginger tint to her hair – but twice as stubborn as her Aunt Sharon (and that's saying something!). She starts lecturing Sherlock about manners and taking care of company. She ignores both Sherlock and Amy until he finally gets annoyed enough to give Amy his bed for the night.

John leaves to get his girlfriend within the hour and Mrs Hudson goes back down to her flat for the night, leaving Amy alone with Sherlock. Which is a bit odd, because it's the first time since she was eight years old that they've been left alone together. And it's just as boring. Except this time she doesn't have a library to run off to. She walks into the sitting room, only to find Sherlock playing the violin.

He doesn't notice her; he's facing the window and too lost in his thought process to actually pay attention to her presence. Still, she stands there and listens to him play. Amy's not exactly sure how long he plays for, but the melody is soft and slow, almost like a sort of lullaby. Funny, because with all his logic rambles and science-mindedness, she would have never taken him for a musician.

Thirteen years, she's technically known Sherlock. They've met four times and had ridiculous shouting matches, but for the first time, she realises that maybe there's more to Sherlock Holmes than she originally thought.


Sleep refuses to come to her that night. Amy lies absolutely still, she tosses and turns about, she even tries counting space sheep. None of it works. Of course it doesn't. It would be convenient if that happened and the universe can't have that, now can it? Finally, when Sherlock's clock tells her that it's one-thirty in the morning, Amy sighs and gives up. She tosses the blanket off of herself and walks over to the window. The view is rubbish but there's an escape ladder leading to the roof of the building, and she's willing to bet it leads to a much better view. A wicked grin tugs at her lips and she opens the window and slips out.

It isn't even close to the tallest building around and she can't really see the stars, but the view of the city is still better than it is from Sherlock's room, so she stays. She sits on the ledge and looks over at the city that's still just as awake as her. She wonders if she could ever live somewhere like here. It's so different from small, quiet boring Leadworth. Not a bad different though, just different, ya know?

The ladder rattles and breaks her thoughts. She turns around just in time to see Sherlock climbing onto the roof. "You're not supposed to be up here," he tells her.

She shrugs and turns her gaze back to the city. "Psh. Don't tell me you're one of those rule people now." She doesn't bother to ask how he found her. Something tells her that this probably isn't his first time on this roof.

He doesn't say anything, but Amy knows that there's a smile on his lips. Not a big grin – he doesn't seem to do those – but the small one. One of the little amused one he sometimes lets slip into their conversations. His feet tap against the floor as he walks over and he pauses just behind her. A moment later a heavy warmth comes over her shoulders and she immediately hugs the coat closer to herself. She mumbles a thanks as he sits on the ledge beside her.

"This is my future, you know?" She tells him. She feels his eyes shift to look at her; he doesn't say anything, just waits for her to elaborate. "The calendar in your flat, it said it was October. Technically, that's four months ahead of where I'm from," she explains. "So somewhere out there, there's another me. If I wanted to, I could go and find her. Hell, I could probably pick up the phone and dial my mobile and talk to her. It could be interesting, ya know? See what my future is like."

"Will you?"

She stays silent for a minute, her eyes fixed on a cab. She watches it pass their building and continue on. "No," she shakes her head softly, "I don't think I will." Finally, she turns away from her view and looks back at him.

"The Doctor," she explains, "He has all these rules about crossing timelines and paradoxes and all these spacey-wacey things he rambles on about. And yeah, they probably are pretty good reasons not to do it, but it's not just that. Finding her – that me that's out there somewhere, the future me – it would take all the fun out of it. Sure there are some things I wanna know, but there are a lotta things I'd rather just find out on my own. Having her tell me, that would just take the mystery out of it, ya know? It's no fun to have the answers in front of you; the fun part is trying to figure them out. Okay, sometimes it sucks not knowing things, but what's life without a little challenge?"

He stares at her and, after a breath, a small, genuine smile tugs at his lips, and Amy thinks maybe it's the first time she's ever seen him look at her like that. He nods, but he doesn't say anything back. He doesn't try to make his own analogy or contradict her decision. He just understands in silence.

Amy smiles back softly.


They sit there all night long. It's kinda funny, because she never really imagined Sherlock as the sitting still sort of person. Everything always seemed so quick with him, like he always needed something to do or something to focus on. But he sits there with her, in complete silence as they watch the city. She knows he's probably thinking about something or other that she probably wouldn't understand, but she doesn't ask what. She doesn't ask why he's still there with her either. If he wanted to leave, he would have already. That's something Amy's learned about Sherlock: if he doesn't want to do something, he won't do it. He's too bloody stubborn to follow the rules. It's something they have in common.

She doesn't touch him the entire time they're out there. It's not like she avoids him or something stupid like that, but she doesn't brush against his, she doesn't take his hand in hers or even rest her head on his shoulder. They're close enough that she could do it if she wanted, but she doesn't. They sit beside each other, their legs dangling over the ledge of the building, watching the city eventually fall asleep, without any of that. It's almost more comfortable this way, ya know? Just knowing someone else is beside you, not needing to feel the proof.

It's nearly four in the morning when she hears the soft whooshing noise. The breeze picks up slightly and she turns just in time to see the big blue box fading in. She rolls her eyes, because the Doctor would come in the middle of the night. Still, she smiles and steps back into the roof. She slides off Sherlock's coat and hands it back to him.

"Tell John and Mrs Hudson I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye."

"I will."

"Maybe we'll stop by at some point. No promises on when though."

He smiles. "Of course."

A slightly awkward air falls between them. Part of her considers hugging him, but she doubts Sherlock would appreciate the physical contact. So she smiles back at him, gives him a small wave, turns and walks into the TARDIS. The Doctor stands at the counsel with a guilty smile on his face and immediately starts rambling excuses and apologies. And normally Amy would call him out on it, give him hell for abandoning her again. But she doesn't.

She holds up her hand. "Hold on, Doctor. There's something else I need to do. Just a minute." She doesn't wait for his response. Instead, she opens the door and steps back outside.

Sherlock raises a brow when she steps towards him. "Amelia? What–"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, shut up." She closes the distance between them and brushes her lips against his.

It's a small kiss, too short for Sherlock to react (if he was even going to), but it does the job. Amy pulls back and grins wickedly at the confused look on his face. She can see him trying to deduce her logic or whatever, but it doesn't work. In the end, he just asks. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I felt like it," she tells him simply enough. She turns back around and opens the time machine door. "You haven't seen the last of me, Sherlock Holmes." She winks at him.

Finally, a smug grin tugs at his lips. "Goodbye, Amelia."

She laughs and gives him a small wave before she turns and steps back into the TARDIS. A moment later the Doctor sends them off. The Doctor babbles on and explains what exactly was wrong with the TARDIS and why it took him so long. He promises to make it up to her. They can go to the Trojan Gardens now, or the Arcadia, or the Louvre, or even Rio!

Amy rolls her eyes, calls him a moron, and reminds him that it was four in the morning where she was. She tells him goodnight and climbs up the stairs, ignoring his complaints about human sleep cycles. She opens her bedroom door and sits on her bed. She touches her lips once and smiles. She kicks off her shoes, turns off the lights, and lies down. A single thought crosses her mind as she falls asleep.

Maybe, just maybe, Sherlock isn't as bad as she once thought.

The smile stays on her lips all through the night.