"Sherlock!" Amelia Pond calls to the air. "Sherlock!"
It's September, and she's in the middle of the park after following a clue her good friend Sherlock Holmes left in her room.
"Sherlock! I know you're out there, you great git, so stop hiding!"
She looks around, and sighs, irritation building up.
"Sherlock! I'm getting angry, and it's not going to be pretty when I get angry. GET OUT HERE!"
She twirls around, and hands suddenly cover her eyes.
She sighs. "Sherlock, I know that's you."
"Shhh…" the hands respond, and she giggles lightly. "Just follow me."
"Follow who, exactly?" She asks good-naturedly.
"..The hands." And then a force behind her pushes her into a direction, and she can't seem to wipe the silly smile off her face.
"I'll take off my hands, but you have to promise to close your eyes."
"Fine."
"Promise, Amelia Pond."
She huffs. "I promise. Okay? Happy?"
"Very." And two warm hands take her own, and she laughs but keeps her eyes shut.
After a few metres of walking, they stop.
"Open."
And she opens her eyes, and a rather lavish picnic is set on the grass, under her two favourite trees.
In the centre stands Sherlock Holmes, holding a red rose, a shy smile on his face.
"Happy Birthday, Amelia Pond." And he offers her a red rose, and kisses her lightly on the lips.
She smiles up at him, her face radiating pure delight. "Thank you, Sherlock Holmes."
She surveys the picnic on the floor. "Is this my birthday gift? Making me follow a clue all the way to the park for a romantic picnic?"
"Wrong," Sherlock answers smugly and Amy laughs. "This is part one of your birthday gift."
"What's part two?" Amy asks, curious.
Sherlock reaches behind the oak tree, and pulls out a man. "I got Rory to dress up as your Raggedy Doctor."
Rory waves. "Hey, Amy, Happy Birthday." He laughs awkwardly. "I look ridiculous, don't I?"
"Thank you, Rory. And no, you don't. You look quite handsome, actually." She says, winking at him, then laughing when he turns bright red.
They spend the day lying around on the floor, laughing, eating. They make flower crowns for her (which apparently they've been learning to do for two months), and they have a really spectacular food fight which starts when Amy tries to shoot a grape into Rory's mouth, and hits him smack in the eye.
She leaves with her heart in the air and the taste of Sherlock's lips on hers.
Amy can't remember when she's felt happier.
Later, in the middle of the night, her imaginary friend reappears and whisks her off for an adventure.
"You'll be back by morning," her Raggedy Doctor promises.
Sherlock gets up in the morning, still happy from the look of pure delight on Amy's face. He gets himself ready, makes comments about his brother's weight, grabs breakfast and leaves.
He walks out his front door to find Rory just about to knock.
"Good morning, Rory." He says pleasantly.
Rory opens and closes his mouth, as if about to speak. Sherlock looks at his face.
"Something must be wrong, because you wouldn't come to get me, since we're supposed to be meeting for coffee?"
Rory opens his mouth, and the words finally come.
"Amy's missing."
They run to Amy's house, hearts pounding. They knock and scream and shout, to no avail. They find the spare key under the doormat, and burst in.
"AMY!" Rory shouts, frantically searching the doors on the first floor, as Sherlock flies up the stairs to check the upper floor.
"AMY!" He shouts, checking doors and closets and bathrooms, hoping, frantically hoping that she was somewhere in this big house.
"AMY!" He hears Rory downstairs. "Have you found her, Sherlock?"
"Not yet, Rory, keep looking!"
"Where?" Rory asks, and Sherlock runs into Amy's room, checking the closet, under the bed, her toy box.
Rory comes up to him a few minutes later. "She's not downstairs. Where is she? Could she have been kidnapped?"
Sherlock breathes in. "There's no sign of a break in, no broken windows, no scuff marks on the doorknob that suggests lock picks. The kidnapper could have used the spare key under the mat, however the key was dusty when we got it, suggesting it had been untouched. No sign of a struggle on the floor of her bedroom, so there was no violence involved. How did you know she's missing, anyway, Rory?"
"She's late. She's never late. You're always late for coffee with us, and she always keeps up a running commentary about how you're so fashionably late."
"Didn't you think that maybe she overslept by a bit?"
"Tried ringing her. She didn't pick up. She usually picks up. She's glued to that phone."
"Where's her phone?"
"Sorry?" Rory asks, not comprehending.
"Can you ring the phone for me, Rory?"
He does, and they search the entire room for that phone, because Amy is unlikely to have lost it anywhere else in the house.
"It's not here," Rory says, after the nth try.
"If she were missing, her phone'd be here." Sherlock says quickly. "But it's not so that means she…" He stops.
"She's what?" Rory asks. "Gone? Could she just have upped and left?"
"No." Sherlock says. "She's not gone. She's probably taken a walk and refused to answer her mobile." Sherlock and Rory both know this is unlikely.
"Sherlock, she's gone—"
"She's not gone, she's just…playing a trick on us. She'll be back soon. Let's wait."
Sherlock closes his eyes and breathes in and out, trying to dispel the worry building up inside him. He takes a seat by her bed, desperately reassuring himself that she'll come back because Amy always comes back.
Rory opens his mouth, blinks, and sighs. He sits beside Sherlock and pats him lightly on the back. He doesn't say a word, because words are pointless in this situation.
They wait until the sun goes down. Amy doesn't return.
"She's gone."
When Amy returns, it's Rory who comes meet her. He tells her it's been six months since they saw her last, and, when that statement is directed at her companion, he sheepishly looks down and says "sometimes I miss a bit."
Rory also tells her that a few months back, the Holmes boys moved to London to stay with their parents and are never coming back.
Amy takes Rory with them.