Sleep was a struggle that night. Amy tossed and turned, trying to get the images of the crime scene out of her head. She'd seen aliens eat people for breakfast, she'd seen people die in front of her time and time again, surely she could handle this. It was so disgusting it hurt. What hurt even more was that those poor people hadn't had a choice in how they died. They hadn't been able to escape the cruel man's grip. If she wanted to help Sherlock catch the bastard that did such a violent, horrifying thing, she knew she had to pull herself together.

At six in the morning, as the sun was coming up, feeling as if she was jet lagged, she joined Sherlock in the kitchen. She badly wanted to eat, but wasn't sure whether it would stay down or not. It was obvious Sherlock had had no sleep either, for very different reasons. She was certain he was loving this. She wondered whether he was actually human or not.

"'I'm watching you Sherlock'." She'd found the note that he had waved in front of her eyes hours before and bit down on her lip. "Who's that?"

"I have absolutely no idea." He ruffled his hair manically and carried on frantically sifting through a shoe box full of bits of paper and letters.

"What are you doing?"

"I am trying to find out if the handwriting on that note matches any of the handwriting on any of these notes."

"You keep notes from your enemies?"

"Occasionally. Only the important ones."

"If those are the important ones I dread to think how many unimportant ones you receive."

"Not nearly as many as you think."

"Why do you keep notes from your enemies? That's a bit weird, isn't it?"

"Not when something like this arises. It's always useful. You never know when someone from your past might spring up- OH GOD!" He threw the shoe box across the room and inhaled hard.

Amy stared at him.

"In this instance is's absolutely USELESS! Nothing."

"So it's someone knew then?" She'd left the table and grabbed herself a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Annoyingly, it would appear so. Haven't people got anything better to do than to bother me?"

"A few days ago, you were looking for a case. Now you've got a case, you're annoyed."

"It's probably someone else wasting my time. Distracting me from what's important. It's all a big game."

"A game?" She practically slammed the bottle down on to the table. "Sherlock, three people are dead! That's not a game and it's your job to catch the cretin."

Suddenly, he rose to his feet and began climbing over furniture, checking the bookcases and corners of the room. Now standing in the middle of the bombsite they called the living room, Amy placed her hands on her hips and sighed. "What are you doing now?"

"The last time someone was watching me, they were literally watching me," Sherlock explained. "Cameras. There might be cameras."

"That was Moriarty, right?"

Sherlock didn't answer. "I'm going for a shower," Amy stated. "If I find any cameras in the bathroom, I'll let you know." Clearly she was mocking him. As far as she was aware, no-one had been in the flat who shouldn't be. If anyone she didn't know ever knocked, she would ask for proper identification and the security password... Okay there wasn't one but that's not a bad idea.

After a really long shower, Amy dressed herself in joggers and a tank top and decided to slum it out on the couch for as long as humanly possible. She tried with television, only Sherlock demanded she switch it off. Was he seriously still racking his brain? Any minute now he would go into overload, of that she was sure.

She sent a text to Mary:

Sorry me and Sherlock disappeared last night. Lestrade had a case. AP x

She didn't expect a reply. She expected the Watsons would be dashing off to sun, sea and sex by now. However:

It's okay. Sherlock already explained. For a while we thought you two had gone for a quick snog. MW x

Amy pulled a face.

That's gross. AP x

She imagined both the Watsons (yes, she was going to refer to them as that forever more!) were chuckling away.

Sorry. Couldn't resist. See you soon. MW x

"I'm going to Scotland Yard," Sherlock piped up, slamming his laptop shut with as if he had just gained the ultimate force known to man.

"Do you need me?"

"There will be pictures. I can't be doing with you throwing up over their carpet. They'd charge me for it." He shrugged on his coat and grabbed the note from his desk. "Stay here. Clean or something."

"I'm not your housekeeper," she mimicked Mrs Hudson. It was his despicable mess, he should clean it.

She heard the door downstairs slam shut and a sigh escaped her. In truth, she wanted to go, but she felt like crap and needed to sleep. She took the opportunity to there and then, grabbing her duvet from her room and curling up underneath it on the couch. She still didn't think she could eat anything despite the wild growls growing louder in her belly.

Her dreams were easy this time. Not a single image from the night entered her head. Instead, they were images of the Doctor, the stars and the wheezing, groaning sound of the TARDIS. They were like the dreams she'd had ever since she was a little girl. They brought happiness to her sleep. Everything felt fine. From time to time, a scary monster with ugly teeth would rear its head, yet it was never a nightmare, for the Doctor would destroy it with a single blow (an exaggeration, of course) and their journey would continue across whichever distant land they were on.

A loud knock woke her an hour later. Heavy beats that would last momentarily before continuing again seconds later. Amy sensed urgency. She forced herself from the comfort of her duvet and plodded sleepily down the stairs. Mrs Hudson was out so it was temporarily her duty to answer the door.

"Alright!" She wished the person on the other side would stop before they knocked the wood from it's hinges.

There she was, dressed in her typical denim attire, hair curled to the maximum, red lips and winged eyes full of fear. "River?"

"Amy, you need to leave."