geez! that took way too long to write, let me tell you. lots of scrapping and rewriting. so sorry about the wait, i was just honestly so busy with summer reading and being social.

anyway, here is chapter 14! i guess it's a longer chapter, so at least there's that.

i've been seeing that other authors are writing disclaimers on their stories, so, just to let you know, i do not own doctor who or sherlock or anything pertaining to the two.

R&R! Enjoy!

The Doctor led Amy back into the TARDIS. Slowly, he walked around the console, throwing levers and flipping switches as always.

"Don't forget," the Doctor said as they took off, "about you're old raggedy Doctor."

"Doctor, how could I ever forget you?" Amy went over and gave him a hug. He rubbed her back. "I'll be back in a few days. In the meantime, go spend time with your wife. I'm sure she misses you."

The Doctor smiled and hit a button, stopping the TARDIS. Amy gave him a sad smile and walked toward the door.

"You can't tell him, Amy. No matter how much you want to, you can't," the Doctor reminded her. She nodded and turned around, opening the door.

Snow fell around her as she stepped out onto the street. It caught in her hair, freezing her to the bone, but she didn't care. She was already numb. She walked up to the door, her stomach flipping uncontrollably. Just as she was about to knock, the door flew open and Sherlock was standing in front of her, pale as ever, still wearing his same coat and Amy could see the surprise in his eyes.

Overwhelmed, Amy fell into him, grabbing him, never wanting to let go. Sherlock immediately wrapped his arms around her, something that she wasn't expecting him to do. She felt his bony frame in her arms and his cool hands on her back. Tears of happiness ran down her face and stained his jacket. It was such a relief to see him there, alive.

Oh, God, it was good to see her again, Sherlock thought, holding Amy in his arms. It had been 8 months now, and he was sure that she was never coming back. He had heard the whirring noise that had haunted his dreams and knew that she was there again, that she had come to see him.

"I've missed you," she whispered into his coat. He held her tighter.

"I've missed you, too," he said for the first time in his life. He'd never missed anyone as much as he'd missed her. His memories of her laughing on his couch, of joking with him, of her saving his life, of their last and only kiss, could never measure up to seeing her again. His stomach lurched when she broke their embrace.

Amy looked up at Sherlock, wanting so much to kiss him. And she would have too, if it weren't for the look on his face. He wore surprise, clear as day. That much didn't matter to her; she knew he'd be surprised. But, underneath the surprise, there was more, something that Amy couldn't quite place. It seemed like sadness, but he was smiling as much as she'd ever seen him smile.

Sherlock wanted to kiss Amy, too. He had been thinking nonstop about her, about her departure and the kiss she had planted on him, only to turn away and leave. Her last words replayed constantly in his head. It seemed as though she had never wanted to see him again. Sherlock watched as surprising, hot tears rolled down Amy's cheek.

"You're crying," he said, brushing away a tear with his thumb. Now that he was really noticing her, it looked like she'd been crying for a long while. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Amy replied hastily. He could tell that she was having trouble keeping this secret away from him, but he wasn't going to push it. "I just, missed you, is all."

Amy quickly collected herself, wiping the unwanted tears from her face.

"Come in," Sherlock said, opening the door wider behind him. Amy stepped into the warm foyer, shivering from the sudden heat. "John's upstairs."

Amy and Sherlock walked up side-by-side, silently. They rounded the corner to John, closing the door to 221B and putting on his most warm jacket. The sight of Amy shocked him.

"Amy! Hi!" John said, walking over and grabbing Amy into a friendly hug. "How are you?"

"I'm great," Amy said, only half-lying. She still couldn't forget what she had seen in 2014, but being with Sherlock made things somewhat better. Even if they weren't together in the way that Amy had hoped.

"That's great. Look, I'm headed out to the grocery because we seem to be out of…everything. Again. I would offer you some tea, but it seems we're even out of that. I'd imagine you weren't here to see much of me, though," John said casually, casting a glance at Sherlock. He wasn't hurt at all that Amy didn't want to see him, though. He knew how much Sherlock had missed her. "I'll get out of your hair."

At that, John pushed past the pair and hightailed down the stairs. Amy gave Sherlock a sidelong glance before casually throwing open the door and entering the flat. Immediately, Amy noticed that nothing had changed whatsoever since her last visit. Papers were still strewn about, bullet holes still filled the wall, and the furniture was in exactly the same place.

Like last time, Sherlock began tidying up around the small living area.

"You really don't have to do that, Sherlock," Amy said, walking over to the couch and sitting down, back straight and legs crossed. 8 months ago, she would have walked in, thrown herself onto the couch and sat however she wanted – most likely with her knees tucked up against her chest, a habit she had picked up from Sherlock. Now, though, she almost felt uncomfortable. Prolonged time away from someone could do that.

Sherlock stopped abruptly, throwing what was in his hand back to the table, and came over to sit next to Amy. The word awkward sprang to Sherlock's mind as he sat, hands folded on his lap, next to Amy. They were silent for a few moments while thoughts raced through their heads.

Sherlock wanted so much to kiss her, to be close to her, feel her on him. But no, Sherlock thought. They couldn't do any of those things. She had only kissed him as a goodbye, not because she liked him. He tried to push thoughts of them together away.

Amy wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through Sherlock's curly dark brown hair, feel his lips on her lips. But she couldn't. She had made the first move last time and she didn't know if Sherlock felt the same way about her, especially after 8 months of her absence.

Sherlock leaned forward, wringing his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. More silence. He wanted her and she had to tell her. But he couldn't bring himself to.

Amy followed suit, leaning forward and burying her face in her hands out of sheer embarrassment for thinking that things would be suddenly okay if she showed up. Stupid, stupid Amy.

At the same time, they both turned to each other. Amy to say she was sorry and Sherlock to tell her how much she meant to him. But, as they both turned and opened their mouths to speak, their lips bumped against each other. They both sat up straight and turned to look at each other, mirrored looks of surprise on their faces.

"I, I'm s—" Amy started saying but was abruptly cut off.

Sherlock's lips collided forcefully into Amy's, who was taken by surprise, but not unhappy. Without a moment's hesitation, she responded, leaning into him. Her fingers dug their way into his curls, getting caught. Sherlock, not knowing she would respond so quickly, made a move back. One hand found its way to her hip and the other to her face. Eventually, they broke away, breathless and elated. Amy was practically sitting on his lap.

"Well," Sherlock said, breaking the comfortable silence.

Out of pure happiness, Amy broke into a fit of giggles, and Sherlock joined her. When the laughter would seem to die down, they would start up laughing again. Finally, Sherlock ended it with a quick peck to Amy's cheek. Amy returned it with another, lengthier kiss on the lips.

"7 months," Sherlock said, his voice breaking, leaning his forehead against Amy's.

"I'm so sorry," Amy said, truthfully sorry that she had put him through any pain. She'd never meant to, but leaving had seemed such a good idea at the time.

"It was probably only about 3 weeks for you, wasn't it?" Sherlock asked, not angry, just curious.

"No, it was 8," Amy replied, remembering the ache in her chest every time she thought of Sherlock or saw something that reminded her of him. "8 months."

Sherlock looked up at that. So that meant that the two of them had been apart for around the same amount of time. Actually, technically, Amy had suffered more. He was still confused by time travel.

"What made you come back?" Sherlock asked. Amy took in a sharp breath, not knowing how to answer. She couldn't tell him the truth, but she didn't want to lie. Instead of answering, she pressed her lips to his.

At that moment, a loud cough echoed from the doorway. Amy and Sherlock pulled apart to see John standing across the room, grocery bags held at his side. The pair jumped apart, hoping maybe he didn't see them together. It was futile, they knew, John wasn't that thick. But he just smiled.

"Get a room, you two."