Oh well hello there! Yes, well Pondlock eh? I have shipped Pondlock for a while now and decided to write this after reading 'All the cracks in time' which you should all go and read because it's amazing. This chapter is written in two parts simply because it's when they first meet and I wanted to do their different point of views... the next chapters won't be like this... Please enjoy and review!


Amy Pond let out a loud groan. Her eyes fluttered open and the first thing she became aware of was a sharp pain in the back of her head. Instinctively, her hand went up to where the pain was and came into contact with something sticky.

'Ouch!' Amy winced and pulled her hand back, the tips of her fingers coated in blood. Slowly she sat up.

Where am I? Where are the Doctor and Rory? What happened? Since when has it been night?

Were the first questions that ran through her mind. The back of her head was pounding furiously and she knew if she didn't do something soon, she would black out again. Where the hell is Rory when you need him?

Carefully, Amy managed to stand herself up, using the wall to keep herself balanced. So far as she could see, she was in an alleyway. But she couldn't remember how she got there!

After a few moments of trying to clear her head, Amy plucked her phone from her pocket and her eyes widened as the words 'No Signal' flashed on the screen... No signal?! But the Doctor had zapped her phone so that she never went out of range... ever.

Suddenly, she heard footfalls coming from the left hand side of her, she whizzed around to face the sound, instantly regretting moving so fast as it made her head spin dizzily.

A man in a hoodie was walking towards her, a huge smirk on his face.

'Hello darlin'!' his cockney accent crooned 'Got lost did ya?'

Part of Amy's brain vaguely registered the fact that she must be in London because of his accent but the rest of her was screaming for her to run. She felt like she was in a really bad film; an innocent, injured girl, walking down a dark alley when she gets cornered by a hooded man and...

Then she started to run. Or at least, she tried to. It was more like a fast stumble. But the adrenaline pumping through her body allowed her to keep going without falling.

Amy strained her ears for the sound of pursuit but she heard nothing. Maybe he was in fact just trying to help her... but she kept going nonetheless.

Eventually, she rounded a corner branching off to another alleyway and her legs just gave out underneath her.

Amy Pond landed flat on her face.

'Need a hand?' she heard a deep male voice say, inches away from her. Slowly, she lifted her head up to see a tall man in a long, black-woollen coat. Even with her slightly blurred vision, Amy could see he was attractive; with a pale complexion, thick black curls and cheekbones to die for.

The stranger extended his hand out to her and she instinctively took it, standing up shakily.

She managed to murmur out a small 'Thanks.' To the man who was looking at her in a way that most people looked at Amy Pond. As if she were a puzzle to be solved... a difficult puzzle, with well hidden secrets. But then, the way this man looked at her was slightly different... she felt like he was stripping her to the core just with his piercing, icy eyes.

The man let go of her hand, his eyes still darting up and down her body, before resting on her bleeding head.

'You're hurt.' He stated with a frown.

Amy rolled her eyes, despite herself. 'Thanks for that, but I kind of already noticed.'

The man blinked once and tilted his head to one side. 'I'm Sherlock... Sherlock Holmes.'

'Amy Pond... I think.' She managed a weak smile at him which he did not return.

'Well, Amy Pond, an attractive woman of your age, with a skirt that short, should definitely not be wandering a dark alley alone at three in the morning.' Sherlock said emotionlessly.

Amy stared at him, wide eyed. She was pretty sure he'd just called her 'attractive' but it was like the word had no meaning. Usually if a guy called her attractive he was trying to flirt with her... but this guy?

'I... I don't remember how I got here if I'm honest with you.' She muttered, closing her eyes.

Sherlock Holmes frowned and was silent for a moment before saying 'Come with me... my friend's a doctor; he can sort your head out.'

Taking a step back from him, she shook her head. 'No... I mean thank you but, I don't know you. You could be some sort of serial murderer for all I know.'

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock swiftly knocked her feet from under her and scooping her up in his arms, making Amy give a squeak of surprise.

'I can assure you Ms Pond; I am certainly not a serial murderer.'

Amy would have struggled, but her head was pounding and her eyes were starting to droop. Besides, she didn't actually think he was a serial murderer. In fact, her instincts were telling her that this was the right thing to do... that she should trust this tall, dark stranger. She vaguely registered the fact that he had started walking faster before she closed her eyes and lost consciousness.




That was the word that was repeatedly running through Sherlock Holmes' head. Why couldn't something interesting happen for once?

He hadn't had a case in nearly a week and it was starting to drive him to the brink of insanity.

Staying in the flat all the time did not help one bit so he'd decided to get some fresh air. He walked down the nearest alleyway to Baker Street hoping to see some assassin or other but of course, he wasn't that lucky.

Rounding a corner that branched off to another alleyway, he heard footsteps. He stopped walking and cocked his head to one side.

A woman. Quite tall. Long legs. Trying to run but instead stumbling. Must be injured. Most likely a head injury. Coming this way.

Suddenly a tall red-headed woman flew round the corner, tripped over her own feet and landed flat on her face.

Sherlock looked down at her for a second before offering out his arm.

'Need a hand?' he asked, surprised by his own gentlemanly actions.

The woman lifted her head up slowly and took his outstretched hand. 'Thanks.' She murmured and stood up shakily. Letting go of her hand, Sherlock started his deductions, grateful for finally having something to do.

She's about 25. Her first name begins with an A going by the necklace that she seemingly always wears. Scottish originally but hasn't lived in Scotland for years, since she was a child, well before the age of accent acquisition has passed, but she's kept hers relatively strong. Now lives somewhere in England, a small, generally unknown town. Her shoes, relatively new but the soles are worn; she does a lot of running. There's a small indent of an engagement ring, last worn about a week ago.

But that was it. That was all he could work out about this red-headed woman. He couldn't see why she was in London, or why she was wandering down an alley at 3 am. There was a certain look about her, almost like an aura, that made her seem interesting... like she was hiding something. And Sherlock Holmes wanted to find out what that something was.

His gaze moved up to find that he'd been right about the head injury and he frowned.

'You're hurt.' He stated.

'Thanks for that, but I kind of already noticed.' She rolled her eyes at him.

Sherlock was surprised... usually women would freak out if they had a huge gash in their head, or at least be constantly whining about it. So why wasn't she? Was she used to being hurt?

If he had to be honest with himself, Sherlock was loving this. She was a new, interesting puzzle to solve and he wanted to know every little thing about her. He wanted to know about that glint in her green eyes that told him she was hiding something.

He blinked once and tilted his head to the side.

'I'm Sherlock... Sherlock Holmes.' He introduced himself.

'Amy Pond... I think.' The woman smiled faintly at him.

Sherlock kept his tone and expression emotionless despite the excitement he was feeling at having something to work out. 'Well, Amy Pond, an attractive woman of your age, with a skirt that short, should definitely not be wandering a dark alley alone at three in the morning.'

Amy's eyes widened slightly before closing for a moment 'I... I don't remember how I got here if I'm honest with you.'

The detective frowned at that. That cut must be worse than he'd originally thought... if something didn't get done soon, he was pretty sure she would black out.


'Come with me... my friend's a doctor; he can sort your head out.' Sherlock said suddenly.

Amy took a step back, shaking her head slowly 'No... I mean thank you but, I don't know you. You could be some sort of serial murderer for all I know.'

It took all of Sherlock's composure to stop him from laughing at that, even though her reasoning was valid from her point of view; to him the thought of it was hilarious.

Instead of laughing he managed to just roll his eyes. He walked a few steps closer to her, closing the distance between them and scooped her up in his arms. This was a precautionary measure as well as a time saver.

Amy gave out a small yelp of surprise but Sherlock spoke before she could say anything. 'I can assure you Ms Pond; I am certainly not a serial murderer.'

He started walking out of the alleyway and, noticing Amy's eyes drooping, he picked up the pace a bit. Finally her eyes closed completely and Sherlock knew that she had lost consciousness.

So... what do you think? Should I continue this story or not? Please tell me in the reviews! Thanks for reading!