A/N: Hello! This is my first ever Wholock fiction, so I hope you enjoy. Amy/Sherlock is a ship that really intrigues me so I just had to write this one down. Note in advance, Sherlock doesn't appear in this prologue, but this is vital so the story flows properly. Please review if you can because I want to know if you like/hate!

Disclaimer: Don't own either Sherlock or Doctor Who, so don't sue. Please.


The tears still prickled in the back of her eyes as she abandoned her back garden and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. He'd left her. Again. Amy Pond had had enough of people just running off without saying goodbye- and not knowing when or if they'd be back.

She'd waited twelve years for that miraculous man to return. Twelve incredibly long years that she'd never ever wish back because they were filled with so much lost hope and hurt and a feeling of just how unwanted she'd always been. She did not want to live through the next twelve years (or perhaps longer) reliving the last. She did not want to spend the rest of her days staring out her bedroom window waiting for a blue police box to magically materialise out of thin air while the rest of Leadworth (bar Rory and Mels) gossiped about her. 'That Amy Pond,' they'd say, 'She's nineteen years old and she still believes that her imaginary childhood friend is real.'

Well, not any more. Amy Pond was tired of waiting for her indecisive madman. Twelve years was long enough. She wasn't prepared to give up any more of her life for a person she had no idea would return- even though she was desperate for him to come back. Of course she was. Who wouldn't be desperate for a constant sense of danger and adventures in a time machine?

But maybe it was time to stop dreaming about adventures. Maybe now was time to go on some of her own.

Amy kneeled down to look underneath her bed and sure enough, there it was, her little beige suitcase which she'd had since she was a kid. The only suitcase she'd ever owned because she'd never been on holiday long enough to buy a bigger one.

She pulled open the metal clasps which held the top and bottom together and flung it open, revealing the contents. She choked back the sob in her throat as she realised her seven year old self's things were still in there. The suitcase which she'd never unpacked, even when she was fifteen years old (the last time she remembered it) in case he returned- though how a seven year olds clothes were going to satisfy her as a teenager she had no idea.

She threw the couple of jumpers, pants, knickers and socks onto the floor, as well as a crusty old teddy bear. She looked at the bear for a moment, its big, sad amber eyes staring back at her- well, it was bound to be a bit upset at least, seeing as it had been buckled up in a suitcase for twelve years.

Like she'd been buckled up in Leadworth.

Amy flung open her wardrobe grabbing a skirt and a jumper- just realising that she was still wearing her policewoman's outfit. Then realising that she'd never have to wear it again.

To be honest, she'd never worn it much before anyway. There wasn't much need for a kiss-o-gram in Leadworth. The only parties that she was ever hired for were people she knew previously; creepy guys from her high school or even creepier guys from the community hall. Being a kiss-o-gram wasn't even that much of a laugh, really. It just gave her cash.

Amy Pond could do so much better than a kiss-o-gram- maybe she would've, if that stupid Doctor hadn't have come and messed up her life.

"Amy!" Rory exclaimed from the doorway, "What are you doing?"

"Getting out of here." Amy spat back at him, harsher than intended, throwing a skirt into the suitcase lying open on her bed.

Rory stared at her confusedly, wandering into her bedroom. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean?" Amy snapped. She looked her 'boyfriend' in the eyes, and saw how much pain he was in. She lowered her voice a little. "I'm getting away from Leadworth."

"What?" said Rory, "Why? You can't!"

"Just watch me," Amy replied, stuffing as many jumpers as she could into the tiny bag. "I'm feeling so suffocated here, Rory. I'm sick of it."

"Stop. Stop, Amy." Rory tried to encourage her, as he hovered behind her going back and forth to her wardrobe. "Look, you're upset about the Doctor. You're not thinking straight-"

"I'm thinking perfectly fine, thank you." Amy interjected. "And yes, I am upset."

"Exactly." Rory confirmed. He touched her shoulder, but she shook it off. "That's why you should calm down before you do anything stupid."

"Calm down?" Amy yelled out loud enough for Rory to step back a bit with shock, "You want me to bloody calm down? I waited twelve years for him, Rory. Twelve fucking years! Twelve years I'll never get back. And who knows if he's going to make an appearance again?"

"He might-"

"Yes, he might, Rory. He very well might. In another twenty years, maybe? Thirty? And do you think I'm prepared to wait that long? By then, he won't want me anymore." Amy paused for a moment, looking down at her little suitcase. She could feel the tears, hot and angry, stinging her eyes. "I don't want to wait anymore. I want to have a life, without being accused of being mad or OCD or-"

"You'll always be perfectly sane to me." Rory interrupted; he, too, looking like he was going to burst into tears at any second.

Amy glanced at him. Rory Williams. The only boy Amy could ever truly say cared about her much more than he cared about himself. Stable, loving Rory. Did he deserve this?

This wasn't about Rory, though. This was about her.

"I'm not perfectly sane, though, Rory, am I?" Amy said, despite Rory's headshakes. "I'm that mad girl with the suitcase, waiting for her madman with a box. Maybe I don't want that madman anymore. I've always wanted proper adventures, Rory. You know that, from when he were kids, when you and me and Mels would wander up into Upper Leadworth and wander round the ruins for hours on end. You would be the prince, trapped in the tower, I'd be the kick-ass princess and Mels would be the dragon- even if she did go a bit overboard and scare all the nursery kids at the playground."

Rory chuckled softly, reaching out for Amy's hands. "We can still have adventures, Amy. What about those adventures we can have in the future? Y'know…" he blushed bashfully, "When we get married…"

Amy grimaced and wriggled out of his grip. "You know I don't do 'settling down', Rory. I don't do quiet. And I definitley don't do growing up. I've been bred with the notion that there's a lot more out there than just stability- I need the adrenaline. I need the noise. I could get that with the Doctor, but I can't get that here in Leadworth. Or…" she hesitated, "With you."

Rory couldn't blink back the tears which were freely spilling across his cheeks. "Are you… Are you breaking up? With me?"

Amy couldn't reply. She just couldn't. She couldn't find the right words to heal this wound.

Had she just broken up with Rory?

She shook her head and walked up to her bathroom, grabbing her toothbrush and deodorant as well as any other necessities.

There was no going back now.

She dropped all of her things into her case and clamped down the lid, buckling up the clasps.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Amy, please don't do this." Rory whimpered, although he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He could never win to Amy.

"Don't make this more difficult," Amy half-whispered, half-pleaded, as she pulled the bag from her bed and started to make her way out the bedroom door.

Rory blocked the doorway. "Think about what you're doing, Amy. Please. Think about what you're leaving behind."

"Please Rory," Amy sobbed, "I can't think about what I'm leaving behind because I'll break. I need to do this. You know I do."

Rory was properly crying now, his face a mess of tears and sadness and heartbreak. "Where will you go? You have no money! How will you get there? I can't let you…"

"I'll get money. I'll find somewhere to stay. I'll get a job." Amy gripped Rory's face in her right hand, wiping away a few of his tears with her thumb. "Forget about me, Rory. Please. Just, forget. Find someone else. Trust me, it'll be so much easier- for me, and for you."

Rory held Amy's wrist tightly, refusing to let go. "I can't forget you Amy. I… I love you, Amy."

Amy shook her head and pushed past him. She jogged down the stairs to the front door, which was still open.

She debated just walking out the door, there and then, and catching the next bus to the train station. From the train station to London. Then she'd find somewhere to stay- a flat, somewhere. She had enough money, her parents had left inheritance on her credit card. That should get her by until she got a job, at least.

"What if he comes back?" Rory asked from the stairway. Amy turned to face him. "The Doctor. What if he comes back tomorrow? Or next week?"

"Tell him that he's too late." Amy said, the hurt she was feeling blatant in her tone. "Tell him that I don't wait around forever."

And with that, she walked out the door.