AN - I wanted to write a wholock fanfic and so this happened. I have a feeling this is going to seem a little out of character and so for that I apologise in advance, but I really do want to get used to writing Sherlock so I'm attempting it. Slightly AU. Amy/Rory relationship established. Sherlock/John know each other as teens.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer - I own nothing.
Bleak, white wash walls. Old leather chairs that were starting to break in places. A stack of magazines that held little interest to her. Yes, once again Amy Pond was back at the psychiatrists office although this was a bit different. The walls and the chairs and the stupid magazines were all awfully similar but this building didn't smell like hospitals. The lights didn't make Amy's head hurt and instead of the same crappy classical music that she had grown to hate they were playing a local radio station which was a bit of a step up. Of course she had expected it to be a little different, this wasn't Leadworth after all. It wasn't even Scotland. No this time her mum had insisted on dragging her to a London psychiatrist, as if she thought that would be an improvement. Amy didn't see how it could be any different from her other psychiatrists . They all told her the same crap, the same lies. Asked the same questions. The only difference with this one was that instead of being allowed back home afterwards she was going to have to spend the next four weeks in London. Unless this first time went badly of course, which she was hoping it would.
"Amelia stop scowling," Her mother chided, nudging Amy in the arm. Amy merely made some sort of 'hmph' noise, sinking lower into the chair she was seated on. She didn't want to be her, there was no reason for it. She knew she wasn't crazy, her raggedy doctor was real! But still, nobody wished to believe her. Even Rory would look at her doubtfully every time she mentioned him. Sighing quietly Amy stared straight ahead, wondering what she'd do this time to get kicked out. Biting seemed to work wonders but she was fourteen now and that was hardly something a fourteen year old should be doing unless, of course, they wished for everyone to believe they were crazy which she most certainly was not.
When her mum made a loud 'tsk' sound to try and get her daughter to at least sit nicely Amy rolled her eyes, standing up. "Mum I'm bored. Why did we even get here so early! We have an hour 'till my appointment," Amy said as she gestured towards the clock, annoyed. "We can't get into our room until four so we might as well wait here," Her mum replied softly, hoping Amy would sit back down and not cause a commotion. "Well I'm going for a walk then," Amy said and when it looked like her mum was going to argue she glared. "Or I could sit here and whine repeatedly." Her mum merely shook her head, picking up a magazine and starting to flick through it. "Okay Amelia but please be back within the hour. And don't you dare leave the grounds!"
Oh thank the lord, fresh air. As Amy stepped out the front doors of the building she took a deep breath and then looked around. Really the building didn't look awful. Quite modern, actually and the grounds were quite nice. She didn't want it to be though, she wanted it to be awful. She wanted her mum to take one look at the place and turn and leave but no, she was stuck here for the next four weeks. Glancing around, Amy took note of the other buildings close by. The buildings in which some of the patients here stayed looked rather old and there appeared to be moss and ivy growing up the sides. As well as bedrooms there was also a resturant but that was it. "Nothing to do," she muttered under her breath, walking through the grass. Sitting herself down and leaning against the wall of the main building she looked up at the sky. "'Least it's warm."
Amy hadn't noticed she'd dozed off until she felt a sharp stabbing in her ribs. Someone was poking her, apparently, and as she opened her eyes she nearly screamed. A tall boy with dark curly hair was leaning over her, smirking, with a stick in his hand. "Well this is a surprise," He said in the all to familiar smug voice and Amy frowned, pushing herself off the floor. Even standing she was still shorter than him though but she was willing to put that down to being a few years younger. "No need to stab me with a stick," Amy replied as she rubbed her side. "A simple hello would have been fine." The boy merely laughed, dropping the stick to the floor. "So back at the psychiatrists I see. Still clinging to that Doctor of yours, Amelia?" Maybe he hadn't meant it to sound rude, although half the things he said sounded that way, but the use of her full name irritated her and he knew it. "Still clinging to the drugs, Sherlock?" She retorted and for a moment the two glared at eachother before breaking out into grins. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You promised you would write," Sherlock commented as he leant against the wall. "You promised you'd quit so I guess we're both in the wrong," Amy replied, looking slightly disgusted at the cigarette the older boy was pulling out and lighting.
Sherlock stood there in silence for a moment, watching Amy. "You've grown," He noted, looking her over. "Longer hair. Boyfriend," He continued and Amy blushed, looking away. She didn't ask how Sherlock knew about her Rory, she knew she'd just zone out half way through his explanation. It wasn't that it didn't fascinate her, the way he observed things, it was just that she'd find herself growing bored of his explanations. She knew he got annoyed by that though, so maybe that was why she didn't listen. It always had been entertaining, annoying Sherlock Holmes. It appeared that Sherlock realised she wasn't going to reply to his boyfriend remark and he rolled his eyes, stubbing out his cigarette. "You're going to be late for your appointment, suggest you hurry up," He said finally, pulling out a scrap of paper and scribbling something on it. He held it out to her and she took it, noticing a number and address in slanted writing. "How'd you know what time my appointment is?" She asked, fully expecting some smart ass reply but Sherlock just grinned, gesturing over to the entrance where her mum was standing, looking impatient. "Don't have to be a genius to notice some things," He replied as they began walking over to the entrance, Sherlock explaining about how he was meeting his mother inside. "Feel free to come round tomorrow Amy, I won't be busy." And then Sherlock was moving to go sit with his mum and she was being ushered into her therapists room.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
An hour wasted. One whole hour of some lady called Jessica in an expensive suit with short brown hair and plenty of shiny jewellery telling her that she needed to stop fantastizing about the Doctor. After her first three psychiatrists Amy had learnt to just nod her head and reply in one word answers. She didn't want to be there, she wasn't crazy. It was a waste of her time, a waste of her mums time and a waste of Jessica's time. Spending most of her summer holidays stuck in London was not exactly what she had planned. Her mum had gotten annoyed with her but Jessica had just smiled and shaken her head. "I wouldn't worry Tabetha," Jessica said to Amy's mum. "She'll open up eventually, just give her time." This, admittedly, was probably the most faith someone had ever had in Amy and it was almost okay. Then they were leaving the building and Amy glanced around but no, Sherlock was no longer there. On the drive to the hotel, she looked at the piece of paper he'd given her. A house number and his address with the expectation of her arrival tomorrow. "Who's that from?" Her mum asked curiously, glancing sideways at the piece of paper and Amy just shrugged, stuffing the paper in to her pocket. "No-one."
It didn't take long to drive to the hotel, it was only about fifteen minutes away and the building itself looked okay. They checked in and went up to their room which was pretty basic with two single beds, a small tv, a kettle and a bathroom. Nothing really interesting but she supposed she couldn't complain, it was better than staying in the patients rooms. There was a pretty decent resturant downstairs and then in the building next to it there were a couple of small shops. A WHSmiths, Marks and Spencers and a costa cafe. Also she was pretty sure there was an arcade in there so at least there was that. After unpacking, which consisted of Amy shoving her suitcase in the wardrobe and leaving it, she curled up on her bed, flicking through the channels on the tv. She wondered what was happening at home. Was her dad okay? Did Rory miss her? Had Melody gotten herself into more trouble? She wanted to find out, to call people up but it had only been a day and she didn't want them to think she was being clingy.
Amy's thoughts soon turned to Sherlock. The cocky bastard who was to smart for his own good. She hadn't really asked him anything. Didn't ask how he was, what was new. Mostly she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She liked to believe he was okay because if the seventeen year old boy that she'd grown fond of was okay, she could be okay. They'd met a few years ago back when his parents had sent him to Scotland to see a psychiatrist that was a family friend. He'd walked over to where she was sat waiting for her appointment and started making comments about her life that strangers shouldn't know, reffering to the fact that she wasn't quite sane and then Amy had punched him in the face and demanded that he apologise because she was not crazy. He just laughed though and introduced himself. Didn't apologise, apologies aren't really his thing, but he explained to her how he knew. Explained to her what he was doing so far away from home. Then they became sort of friends. They'd insult each other repeatedly but it was always taken as a joke. Amy supposed the reason they could get along was because they both had their issues but they both knew they were reasonably sane. When you find somebody who will believe you aren't crazy, it's hard not to like them really.
That had settled it really. Tomorrow she would go see Sherlock Holmes.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Three quick knocks on the door and then a quick ring of the doorbell. She wasn't sure this was the right house but her mum had been insistent that this was the right address. It was huge but normal looking and for some reason Amy had never thought that Sherlock would live somewhere normal. The door opened and Amy looked up at the person before her. Wasn't Sherlock, possibly a brother. A little taller then he was and missing Sherlocks slightly crazy hair. "Can I help you?" The person said after a moment and Amy realised that she should probably say something. "Yeah, is Sherlock here?" The person gave her a quizzical look and she assumed it was because Sherlock didn't often have vistors and they were even less likely to be girls. She knew he didn't have friends, or at least that's what he had told her. 'I don't have friends Miss Pond.' 'Well tough because now you do Mr Holmes.' The person looked as if he were about to slam the door in her face but then she heard Sherlocks voice. "Let her in Mycroft, it's rude to keep guests waiting," She heard and the man, who she now knew to be Mycroft, rolled his eyes but allowed her to walk into the house.
It was just as big inside. The walls were painted simple cream colours and the floor was wood. There were two sets of staircases, one of the left and one on the right. A few pictures hung on the walls and just on the downstairs floor there seemed to be an endless amount of rooms. "Glad you could come, follow me," Sherlock was saying and then he tugged on her arm when he realised she was too busy staring to listen. He led her up two flights of stairs and into what she assumed was his bedroom. It surprised her how messy it was. Books strewn across the floor, bits of screwed up paper and clothes in piles. His desk looked reasonably tidy though and, in fact, was the most organized part of the room with neat piles of paper and his pens kept in little pots. That wasn't what caught her attention though. What did was a gap in the mess where you could actually see the carpet (a simple light brown colour) and a light haired boy sitting there.
He had been writing stuff out from a textbook and so Amy assumed he was from Sherlock's school which didn't really make this any less odd. "Amy, this is John Watson," Sherlock said as the boy waved slightly. "John, this is Amy Pond." Amy raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, mildly confused. "And John is?" She asked and tried not to smirk when she saw her friend trying to figure out what exactly John should be introduced as. "I'm just a friend from school," John interjected and Amy grinned. "So the great Sherlock Holmes does have friends," She teased and Sherlock scowled at her, looking very much like a sulking child. "He's not my friend," Sherlock replied bitterly. "We have to do a school project together. That's the only reason he's here." There was a look of rejection on John's face that Amy didn't miss, so she assumed Sherlock hadn't either, and she merely nodded. "Oh of course, not a friend."