The Wedding of Amy Pond

Chapter 1

A completely different smell and feel of the bed sheets woke up Amy Pond. She slowly opened her eyes. Sitting up, she scanned the room. Perhaps it was the morning slump, but it took her a few seconds longer to realize she wasn't in the correct bedroom. Different colour, different furniture, and a completely different light coming out the window. This wasn't the TARDIS, and by the looks of it, she certainly wasn't in space. For a second, however, she thought that the TARDIS was making a joke by rearranging the room around her, but a different voice coming from beside her confirmed her fears.

"Ahhm," a man lying beside her in the bed groaned. "Good morning, love."

Amy's eyes went wide when the man lifted the covers off his head. The man beside her with his short dirty blonde hair, wider face, and significantly smaller nose was certainly not her husband. She was in too much shock to get out of the bed. Where was Rory? The Doctor?

The man was about to lean in to kiss her when he stopped himself after noticing Amy's expression and defensive hands to stop him, "right, no kissing till the ceremony!"

He got up excitedly and stretched. He was only in a pair of red briefs.

"Well get up and get ready! We're getting married today!" he laughed as he began to change. "No time to waste!"

Amy kicked her feet off of the bed and they touched the cold wooden floor. Her senses weren't tricking her – this was all real. Her hands were naturally on her lap and she saw the ring on her finger. This was the wedding ring that Rory gave to her. All of that – the Doctor, time travel, and Rory – wasn't just a dream that she made up in her head. She took in a breath and told herself to stay calm and focused as there was no use in freaking out if the man didn't find anything out of the ordinary. Acting crazy wouldn't get her out of the situation she was in.

"What did we do yesterday?" Amy turned around and asked the man.

He was just putting his jeans on but looked at her confused, "Got up, had breakfast, went to the park, met up with Harry, and then had dinner. Why?"

"Oh, it just seems like a blur," Amy put on a fake smile, but this information meant that whatever was taking place had to happen overnight.

He laughed, and put on a jumper, "Yesterday was great, but today will be better. Okay, I'm off to get ready at the hotel. I'll see you later at the altar!"

After he left, Amy got up and looked in the mirror. It was still her, still the same length of hair and everything. She looked in the dressers and all of her clothes were there. A picture on the top of the dresser caught her attention – it was a photograph of her kissing the man. She looked happy. Next to the picture was her phone. Quickly, she dialed Rory's number, but the number was out of service. She dialed the TARDIS number, but that was also out of service.

"No, no, no," Amy clutched her phone and sank to the ground, her back leaning on the open drawers.

She closed her eyes, "wake up, wake up."

Opening her eyes, she found that she was still in the same unknown room. She checked her phone again, but it gave her contacts she didn't know. She couldn't even find her mum and dad's number. The only familiar one was her Aunt Sharon. Quickly, she called her.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Aunt Sharon?" Amy was hesitant.

"Oh, good, you're up! What time are you heading to the hotel to get ready?" she asked.

Amy hung up the phone.

"What is going on?" Amy said to herself.

Violin music outside her bedroom door caught her attention – that couldn't have been John since he just left, so she deduced that there was a flat mate. Amy warily got up, put on a robe, and walked towards the door. For a second, she thought about barring herself in the room and waiting for the Doctor to come and get her, but she knew the chances of that happening were very slim. Turning the door knob, she took cautionary steps walking out. As she walked, she familiarized herself with the surroundings. Kitchen, hallway, bathroom, living room, and exits. Walking down the hallway, there was one spot that felt oddly different than the rest of the flat, but she moved on. Standing in the corner of the living room facing the window was a man with black, curly hair in a robe. The violin was gently resting on his chin and he gracefully played with the bow. He stopped playing when she stopped walking.

"Amelia," the man spoke in a low tone.

"Uh, yes," Amy responded.

"No," he lowered his bow, his back still facing her.

"No?" Amy's eyebrow rose.

The man turned around and he squinted his eyes. He walked up to Amy and tilted his head.

"Who are you?" he asked, his gaze was strong and determined.

"Amy Pond," she replied a little uncertainly.

"No, I know that. But who are you?" he tilted his head to the other side.

"What do you mean?"

"The Amy I know, the one engaged to Dr. John Watson, always says something along the lines of 'good morning Sherly.' You aren't the Amy I know, so who are you?" he said.

"What?"

He sighed, "You woke up, clearly in shock, still in your nightie. But you're getting married today. It's not cold feet, it's not wedding jitters. It's something different. Your face shows me that you don't know what's going on. You know who you are, but you don't know who I am. Or John. Or anyone in your phone contacts list," he pointed to the phone in her hand.

"You never walk with such cautious steps around this flat, and your customary greeting is missing. So I'll ask one more time. Who are you?" although they were nearly the same height, his stance was intimidating and his glare overpowering.

"My name is Amy Pond. I'm from Leadworth, but I don't know how I got here and I don't know why I'm here, and I don't know what's happening," Amy looked at him desperately for help. "The last memory I have is travelling with my actual husband, Rory, and the Doc … my friend."

"Tea?" he smiled widely and put his violin down.

Before she could answer, he was already in the kitchen boiling water. "Please, sit. You're a guest in this house."

She sat down, still confused, and watched the man, "what's your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Where am I?"

"221b Baker Street, London."

"When am I?"

"When am I?" Sherlock poked his head out of the kitchen.

"What day is it?" Amy rephrased.

"the 22nd," he went back into the kitchen.

"The month?"

"September," he popped his head out once more, confused at the question.

"Thank you," Amy sighed in relief as she looked around. "21st century, right? Must be if I have a cell phone like this."

"Why?" Sherlock walked in front of her. "Why did you ask me about the date? Isn't that obvious?"

"Well, since you're the only one that seems to get it, I may as well tell you since it could help me get back to my own time," Amy began but Sherlock interrupted.

"Own time?" his eyes scanned her.

Amy looked at him and nodded, his eyes went wide.

"No," Sherlock backed away. "No, no, no. You can't. No. It can't be true. Time travel? I thought my brother was joking!"

Amy looked at him with earnest eyes. Sherlock burst into laughter and began to jump up and down in excitement.

"This is Christmas. This is truly and definitely Christmas," Sherlock clapped his hands together. "Time travel, a wedding, and a girl who doesn't belong here. The game has most certainly begun!"