Heller again! Sorry for leaving everybody in suspense last time, but I did warn you about evil. That guy gave me the creeps, but he was based on a real person. It took all of my self-control to not put Johnlock in this chapter! But I digress. Please R&R! I always love hearing what my readers have to say! I hope you enjoy this chapter! *Puts on Belstaff and gallops into the sunset*

P.S. This one's gonna have action and feels!

**Amy's POV**


These people are idiots. Each and every one of them. I sigh, and go through the course of events once again.

"The perp is still tied to the ladder. No, no I'm not in shock! Why would I be in shock? STOP GIVING ME A BLANKET! I'M NOT IN SHOCK!" Oh my land, these people are imbeciles. Do I look like I'm in shock? Ugh. Please don't answer that honestly, I do have an ego. Lestrade is just sitting there, laughing and shaking his head.

"What? Why are you laughing?" He starts when he hears my voice and tries to smother his laughing.

"You sound just like Sherlock. He used to make a big fuss about the infamous "Shock Blanket" as well. Gave us all a headache." I hmph and frown. Lestrade's still laughing. Somebody else rounds the corner, and I whisk out of sight. Sherlock! The sight of him still makes me nervous. He's talking to Lestrade with a look to make the devil himself flee for the hills. I lean in to catch their conversation.

"Where. Is. She."

"Er, I was just having a chat with her a moment ago." Lestrade turns around, missing the look that John and Sherlock share. He was talking about me. Me! He cares enough about me the make a fuss like that? I'm touched. His eyes pass over my hiding spot a few times, but I don't see any recognition. But he may be hiding it. He's rather good at that, hiding his face behind his face, if that makes sense. it probably doesn't, does it?

"That's... irritating. John! John we have to find her!" John turns around, his eyes flashing as he hears his name. His reflexes are quite amazing, most likely a byproduct of his years in Afghanistan. That's my cue to head home! Too late I realize that leaping over a bin and climbing a staircase makes a lot of noise. Almost every police officer is turned in my direction and Sherlock is chasing me. Great! I'm being chased down by my dad over the rooftops in bare feet. Just a normal day in London!

"Stop! You have nowhere to run!" Sure enough, they have me cornered. John and Sherlock behind me on either side, and the corner of the building on the other. But then I notice the bins...

With a lopsided grin, I jump from the building, falling just over two stories to the ground below


Breath. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

"Are you ready to talk about what happened?" griped Rachel. She's a nice kid, but very whiny and she can get annoying very fast.

"The answer won't change if you only wait 15 seconds. In fact, I doubt that this answer will ever change, because I'm not telling you."

"But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?" I laugh and say,

"Because you're an annoying twerp, that's why!" She pouts quite childishly. Rolling my eyes, I open my door and go downstairs. It's my turn to make dinner, and I have pasta planned, because you can never go wrong with a carb overload! Ravioli or perogies? Perogies. We don't have any meatballs anyways. I pop the pan into the oven and stretch, my back and shoulders popping pleasantly. Only 12 minutes have passed and I'm bored.

"Can you tell me what happened now?"

"No. You'd see it on the news before I told you." She gasped, having finally figured something out.

"So it was important enough to see on the news, but it might not be on until tomorrow?" I roll my eyes, and she squeals like it's Christmas. "Yes! Yyyyyyyyyyyes!"

Honestly, why does she want to know so badly? Hmph. Ordinary people.

"James! Dinner's ready, come down if you want to eat!" James, my brother-not brother, spends almost all of his time upstairs, locked in his room. It's so strange, and very suspicious if you ask me. He clomps down the stairs, proclaiming his disdain to the world. Mom and Dad are already at the table, but I don't sit down.

"Amy, sit down, won't you?"

"I'm not hungry Mom, I ate this morning."

"But that was this morning! If you don't eat more you'll lose weight, and then we need to go to the doctors!" Ugh, not that. Anything but that. The doctors are the worst. All they ever tell me is "You need to be eating more, there's no need to be insecure about your weight, you can be beautiful without a thigh-gap, blah blah blah "understanding the pressure to look like a model"and gross generalizations like that. Yes, I know I'm gorgeous, but I'm not anorexic! I just have a different internal clock. But if it means not going to the doctors...

I sigh and sit down. Mom beams at me, as if this was an accomplishment. Rather, it was. A few years back, when I asked to make dinner every week, I ate a lot. They were worried about me getting fat, but I never did. I grew about half a foot each year and put on a lot of muscle, but almost no fat. Now I eat once or very rarely twice a day, and I'm gaining no weight, which apparently is bad. I maintain my whipcord muscles and improve my core and flexibility, but I gain no weight or fat.

Dinner passes without a hitch, unless you count Mom demanding that I eat seconds. I trudge upstairs after dinner and collapse onto my bed. Man, I'm beat. I wouldn't be surprised if Mom spiked my water with sleeping pills. Still, I haven't slept for two days since my nap in the cab. My eyes flicker shut just as the bomb goes off. My last coherent thought is That was in the dining room! and I slip into an unconsciousness deeper than death's sleep.