Hello there once more. Welcome to the Wednesday chapter of Breaking the Barrier. May the chapter be enjoyable and the reviews full of praise!
ironhideandratchet4ever: Well it would appear you didn't have to wait too long for the next update. I'm happy to hear you love the story. I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Twilighterheart xxxx: Here is your update! Enjoy!
bored411: Yes a cliffhanger, I am so evil *not so evil laugh*. There are more of those to come. Enjoy as always!
assto: I'm glad you loved it. Oh I hope that we will be pleased with the twelwth Doctor but I'm still holding out hope that it was some kind of sick joke and that Matt Smith isn't leaving. I will literally cry myself to death come the Christmas special! On a different note, enjoy the chapter!
Empress of Verace: I am evil, well mildly so. Questions will be answered as well as prompted, hopefully, from this chapter. Enjoy!
CarminaxBuranax: I'm glad you loved seeing John and Sherlock on the case together, expect more of that. I enjoyed writing them together and felt that since I never addressed how Sherlock came "back from the dead", I might as well explain how John felt. I can't wait to see how he reacts in the show! You're question of if Sherlock is alright or not will be answered! I promise! I've got a ton of ideas for the next story and the ones to follow, I'm sure we'll see the trio running around London at some point or another. Enjoy the chapter!
Yorukazeangel: I didn't so much have a moment of silence when I heard Matt Smith was leaving, I pretty much tossed my computer aside cried, and then pouted for a good two hours. I'm still not over it! Thank you for the suggestion of the couple name, Hevons is cute! Hope you enjoy the chapter!
lightsabove: Thank you and I'm glad to hear I wasn't the only one who wailed about the news! Enjoy!
Loki'sdreamer: Yes, poor Sherlock. Keep that thought in mind for a while! *evil grin*. Enjoy the chapter!
Gwilwillith: Thank you! Enjoy!
The Yoshinator: Lol, interesting reaction to the chapter. I hope this calms you down a bit. Yes, Matt Smith is scheduled to leave after the Christmas special. I was surprised at first (still am if I'm honest) because I too thought he was signed on for all of series eight. Enjoy the chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I own the plot, the evil things I put the characters through, Amber, Megan, and anything else you don't recognize!
[033]
Amber rushed into the A&E, her eyes wide with concern, her face pale with fear. She looked around at the crowded waiting room before making a beeline for the check-in windows which housed two very hectic and stressed looking nurses trying desperately to get their work done and not forget anything or anyone in the process.
"Excuse me?" she questioned softly to one of the nurses who, at the moment, wasn't helping a soon-to-be patient of the hospital.
The little brunette looked up from her file, her pale blue doe eyes blinked rapidly as she looked at the redhead standing there pale as a ghost and biting at her bottom lip roughly. The nurse noticed that woman's hand was bandaged but the bruises still visible beneath the wrapping. Thinking she was looking for paperwork to fill out, she pulled out the papers she would need before sliding them across the counter. "Here you go miss. It's about an hour wait for minor injuries, if not longer."
The redhead shook her head politely and gently slide the papers back to the woman. "I'm not here for myself. My boyfriend was brought in earlier. I'm looking for him."
The nurses eyes softened as she saw the tears glossing over the green of the redhead's eyes. "Could you give me his name please? I might be able to direct you to where he is now."
Amber took a deep breath to clear her mind and so her voice didn't tremble. "Um, Sherlock Holmes. He was probably brought in with his friend John Watson. John wasn't admitted, Sherlock was," she explained, her mind still reeling with what she had learned not more than an hour ago.
She waited with more patience than she realized she should have at that moment while the nurse typed Sherlock's name into the computer. Finally the nurse nodded lightly and looked up at her with somewhat sorrowful eyes. "He's been moved to a private room. Unfortunately visitors are not allowed unless you are family. Mr. Watson was an exception because he came in with him."
The redhead blinked, several times, before she realized that she had just been told she wasn't allowed to see Sherlock. "Excused me? I was told I would be allowed to see him." Her voice was threaded with something akin to anger bordering on breaking down.
"I'm sorry ma'am but I was given specific orders not to allow anyone but family in the room until the police arrived."
Amber blinked again, a brilliant idea striking her. "I am with the police," she forced as she fished around her pocket for her identification. Sure she wasn't an actual officer or detective but she wasn't quite lying about working for Scotland Yard.
The nurse gave her an incredulous look even as she passed over her identification. It might have read forensics but she still worked for New Scotland Yard, and there for the police. Loopholes, she loved them.
With a raised brow the nurse looked over the ID carefully. "You said he was your boyfriend, is that also true?"
"Yes he is. Is there a problem with that?" Her tone was a little harsh but from the look she was now getting, one that was clearly as far from 'I'm so sorry' as one could get, her tone was appropriate. She took back her ID when it was offered, took a deep breath and started again all the while trying to be nicer to the woman who was only doing her job. "It's been a really, and I mean REALLY bad day. I didn't mean to snap or break rules or bend them. But my superior called ahead, said I would be coming. I'm not sure who he talked to or if he has even managed to get a hold of anyone. I rushed out of the office when I got the news."
Once more the look on the young nurse's face softened. "You're name was Amberlyn Devons, correct?" Amber nodded softly. "I'll ask the head nurse if you're on the list of allowed visitors. The system might not have been updated since Mr. Holmes was admitted."
"Thank you so much," she breathed a sigh of relief. With all the stress in her life she was jumping at the throat of everyone she met. She had to remember to take a deep breath, pull herself back, and look at the situation and act accordingly. If she could do that, she wouldn't put everyone on the defensive. However, all she wanted to do now was find Sherlock and hold onto him tightly...and never let go.
"If you could just have a seat, I'll be right back Ms. Devons."
"Sure," Amber replied and walked off to take an available seat in the waiting room. She received a few odd looks, the kind of look that said the person had seen her somewhere before but couldn't quite place her face. She had to blame the tabloids and papers who had gotten their hands on pictures of her and Sherlock as well as her on previous crime scenes. She hated this kind of attention but it happened when working high profile crimes. She would live with it because she enjoyed her job. If people recognized her then so be it. She wasn't about to let it affect her.
A very long five minutes passed before Amber was once more approached by the same young nurse she had talked to. She came scurrying from the back with at small smile on her face. The smile was enough to cause Amber to relax to the point where she too was smiling.
"I am so sorry for the wait and I'm sorry for the trouble. The system wasn't updated when we got word of who was allowed up to see Mr. Holmes."
"So I can go see him then?"
"Oh yes, of course. Let me get you a floor and room number." Amber followed the nurse back to where they had been standing five minutes ago. She was give a small piece of paper with both the floor and room number scrawled across it. She thanked the woman and headed to the back with the permission of the nurse. She was caught off balance when she was stopped by a security guard. She had a lovely ten minute argument with the man before he finally conceded that she was allowed back there and pointed her in the direction of the lifts which would take her to the higher floors.
She finally found the wing in which Sherlock's room was located and looked for the number. The door was closed and out of habit she knocked. It was John who came to answer it, not at all surprised to see Amber standing there frazzled and looking as if several years of her life had been scared away. He opened the door allowing her access to the room.
Her heart nearly broke at the sight of Sherlock in the bed, dressed in a hospital gown, his left arm in a sling, and stitches on the side of his forehead. Under his eyes were dark bruises, a tell-tale sign of physical injury and stress. But it was a relief to see that he was fine besides a few minor injuries aside from the bullet wound that was.
She had to fight herself from running across the room to the bed, instead taking a slow, if not unsteady, walk to the bed. She gripped the railing, which was standard on all hospital beds, and gripped it with her good hand, her knuckles on that hand turning white with the force she applied to keep herself from throwing herself at Sherlock laying there. Hearing he had been shot, hearing that he was in the hospital, it had nearly torn her to pieces shattering her world. She knew she loved him, oh lord did she know that, but she hadn't realized how much until hearing those words from Lestrade.
"Lestrade," Sherlock mumbled, his drug hazed eyes making contact with her glittering ones.
She smirked down at him, lifting her injured hand to place it on his cheek, lightly stroking her thumb across one of the hallow bruise just under his eye. "Of course," she chuckled leaning down to give him a tender kiss on the lips. "Did you really believe that he wouldn't tell me?" She felt a tap on her shoulder, turned back and saw John offering her the chair he had been sitting in beside the bed. She shook her head no, but smiled in thanks despite having turned down the offer.
"Sit," Sherlock ordered, almost lightly. She once more shook her head. "Amber sit down," he demanded now, his voice and face telling her she had no other option.
"I've got a better idea," she grinned reusing her statement from that morning when talking about their transport to the crime scene. She watched as he rose a brow and his mouth contorted into a confused frown.
She slipped out of her coat, tossing it haphazardly across the room to land on the small couch that was in the private room. She released the guard on the railing, putting it down so that she could slip into the bed with him. She snuggled down so that her head was resting carefully on his chest, his good arm going to wrap around her shoulders as she laid on her side, pressed flush against him. "I like this idea," she mumbled into his chest. Physical contact gave her solid proof that he was alright, he was there right under her fingers, and he was fine. He hadn't died, he hadn't had to have surgery, he was going to be right as rain in a couple of weeks.
Yet, though she knew this for a fact, she still felt a few tears slip from her eyes as she buried her head into his chest. She didn't cry, just cuddled against him tightly feeling his arm tighten around her in a comforting manner. She knew, because if he looked down he could see her fighting the crying fit.
John chuckled beside them, oblivious to the fact that Amber was on the verge of crying. He settled himself back in his chair, enjoying the sight of his flatmate taking comfort in the little redhead curled into him and her taking comfort in him. "How was your day?" he asked of the Amber.
Not even bothering to roll over to look at John, she closed her eyes now and took a deep breath taking in the heady scent that only belonged to the consulting detective. "After the camera was stolen, it was rather dull," her voice hadn't even cracked, something she was so very thankful for. "Paperwork, straightening my office which was in terrible need of it considering I'd been out for two weeks. Then I get the memo that Sherlock had been shot and the day got a little less dull," she wanted to chuckle about that, how Sherlock always managed to make the days not so boring, yet she just couldn't. Maybe in the future, when the wound was no longer visible, only a small scar marring his skin, would she be able to joke about it. For now she just couldn't bring herself to do so.
"That tends to happen with Sherlock," John scoffed playfully, knowing that was the thing Amber needed to keep a level headed. He could now hear the pain and worry just under the surface in her voice. She was raw, but not frantic. He was glad to see that she wasn't breaking down, as most women would when learning someone close to them had been shot.
"So tell me John, Sherlock, what lead you lot to this exact moment," she prompted, already having an idea of who was going to answer and to what extent.
"It was ever so dull." Amber actually saw Sherlock roll his eyes at her. She would have whacked him if he hadn't of been injured and if she hadn't of expected him to say something like that.
Instead she just sighed, "Alright John, you tell me what happened."
With that John launched into the long version of the story of their adventures of the day, starting with how John had been enjoying an unusually quiet morning in his flat. Halfway through the story, knocking sounded on the door stopping John's speech and getting Amber to sigh just as the door opened without any prompting. It was a doctor who walked in, not that any of them were surprised.
The doctor looked at the sight before her. Her patient was laying in his bed, his friend in the chair beside the bed, and a redhead curled into his side. That sight alone, while adorable, caused her to raise an eyebrow. "Explain to me why she is in your bed Mr. Holmes? You know the hospital's policy, one person per bed. Does your female companion need a bed of her own, perhaps to finish her nap?" Harsh, yes, but effective usually.
Amber opened her eyes and narrowed them as she turned her head to focus on the snarky doctor standing there with a chart in her hand and her toe tapping against the tiled flooring. "I am most certainly awake as well as aware of hospital policy on shared bed use. You'll have to take into consideration that I thought Sherlock had died upon hearing he had been shot. I am not moving, for anything." With that she closed her eyes once more and snuggled closer to Sherlock who could only give a small half smile at his girlfriend's way of handling the overbearing doctor.
Taken aback, the doctor blinked a couple of times before gaining her footing. "And you are miss?"
"Amber Devons and still, no I'm not moving," she didn't raise her voice or put any edge into her tone. She simply stated the truth and stayed where she lay in the bed ignoring the woman who had the audacity to make an offended noise before looking over the chart in her hands.
"Well, all your tests have come back negative. No hemorrhaging, major swelling, or torn vessels. We got the bleeding of the bullet wound under control, seeing as it was a through and through. What we are more concerned about is the blow to the head. You've got a concussion and as you've been informed we're going to keep you over night for observation. Baring any complications you will be released in the morning. If you need anything I'll be around the hospital and there is a call button for the nurses station. I'll see you in a little bit Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock began to mutter something about not needing to stay the night, followed by something rude, but Amber managed to poke him roughly in the ribs allowing the doctor to leave without having to stick around longer than anyone would have been comfortable with. Before she shut the door she poked her head back in saying, "Visiting hours are over at twenty one hundred."
Amber snorted after she heard the door shut quietly. "I'm not moving," she mumbled causing John to chuckle, Sherlock to grin, and herself to smile widely. "Continue John," she ushered the army doctor who couldn't only shake his head at the duo on the bed. They didn't even realize how similar they truly were at times. Stubbornness seemed to be in both their natures.
He did as requested and jumped right back into the tale of Sherlock and his adventure across the city which had lead them to the point they were now. He had finished the story just as Amber began to yawn. It wasn't so much about being tired, it was more that she was just emotionally drained. The last few days, before today that was, had been rather stress free thanks to being on holiday. Today alone, combining the fact that she had vented to Sherlock, worked a crime scene, had her camera stolen, and then hearing Sherlock being injured, had been one of the more stressful days she had had recently. The news alone about Sherlock being shot had added so much adrenaline to her system that now that she was calm, her body just told her to sleep.
As she settled in for a long night beside Sherlock, she listened in silence as Sherlock and John started arguing about why exactly Sherlock had to be stuck in a hospital when he was perfectly fine. He even harped on having to have his arm in a sling when it only hurt a little. Amber wanted to mention that fact that Sherlock was currently on pain medication, which would explain why his arm didn't hurt as much as it probably should have. Of course Sherlock also had to grumble and moan and wonder who was paying for it. That caused John to shot a glance at Amber who had, at that moment, turned to look at him with sleepy eyes. She gave him a nod as an answer to the silent question asked. Neither of them planned on telling Sherlock, he'd deduce it soon enough if they didn't give him more pain medication. And when he did find out, well he wasn't going to be happy about it.
Still listening to Sherlock ramble on, and John huffing his responses, Amber fell into her own thoughts. She had learned, through the course of John's recounting of the events of the day, that Sherlock had been caught off guard when Neil Donaghy had pulled a gun. The man had managed to fire, hitting Sherlock in the shoulder, before John could pull his own gun to defend them. When Donaghy had aimed to fire again at Sherlock, who had in his shocked state, fallen and hit his head, John pulled the trigger. Donaghy had barely made it out of the flat in which the incident had occurred, but Lestrade had assured John that he was completely within the law to do what he had done.
Amber let out another yawn, blinking her eyes at the force of it. She continued to listen for as long as she could before she finally lapsed into sleep curled tightly into Sherlock's side, her hand on his chest holding onto the fabric of his hospital gown, hearing the steady beat of his heart in her ear. Just as she was on verge of falling into the black oblivion, she felt Sherlock's arm tighten his grip on her, his thumb having begun to rub small soothing circles into the flesh of her hip where her shirt had ridden up. She smiled and finally fell into the darkness, content now that he was alright and she was with him.
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It had to be hours later when Amber woke up. The room was dark, the blinds were drawn, and John was missing. Sherlock was between dosing and wakefulness, a byproduct of the medication he was on. She yawned once, stretched her legs and rolled over onto her other side. Sherlock adjusted around her, his arm coming to land on her stomach while laying across her chest. She smiled softly and closed her eyes until she caught sight of a figure sitting across the room on the small couch.
As panic began to set in, she blinked rapidly to clear her eyes before remembering that she had been sleeping in her contacts. She growled herself, blinked once more, and felt her contacts slip back into place. Even in the dark she could make out Mycroft's form and the panic disappeared in a puff of laughter. "I sure hope Sherlock was fully awake when you got here. He won't be pleased to wake up now and see you, not that I'm surprised you're here."
Mycroft gave a soft chuckle. "He wasn't pleased, but with you fast asleep in his arms he was more inclined to listen to me instead of arguing as usual."
"You're welcome then," she rolled her eyes before lacing her fingers with those of Sherlock. "How long have you been here anyways?"
"About an hour or so. I am only here to ensure that my brother stays."
"I've got that taken care of Mycroft, you don't have to worry about it. As long as I'm in his bed he won't go anywhere without me," she gave a cocky grin even if he couldn't see it in the dark. She had a point, Sherlock rarely left her in the middle of the night, and given the close quarters of the bed, she doubted he would try to slip away any time soon. "They've also got him so drugged I doubt he could walk out of here on his own accord."
"I would hope so. He might say that wound of his is nothing but according to the doctors, just a couple millimeters in any direction and a vital artery would have been hit. We'd be in a very different situation if that had happened."
Amber felt her stomach flip. "I'd be burying him."
"We'd all be burying him, for real this time. There wouldn't have been a way for him to fake that," there was genuine concern and worry in the older sibling's voice. Despite their issues, whatever they might have been, Mycroft cared for Sherlock deeply and worried about his well being all the time.
She fought the tears and managed to calm herself enough that she let out a soft sigh which Mycroft couldn't hear. "However, he's perfectly fine."
"I heard that you had an interesting day as well," the older Holmes sibling stated rather nonchalantly as a way of changing the subject matter.
She rolled her eyes in the dark, yawned, and fiddled with Sherlock's fingertips. "My stalker stole my work camera today," she murmured as if that would explain everything. She already knew that Mycroft knew almost all the assorted details. He might claim to only hold a minor place in the government but anyone close to Sherlock knew otherwise.
"Have you told Sherlock yet about the stalker, how you know him that is?"
She allowed surprise to leak into her voice, "Better term; knew him."
"Okay, have you told him that you knew the man then?"
She shook her head, praying that Sherlock was sleeping. She felt his steady breathing against her back, him having turned over slightly in his sleep so that he was spooning her smaller frame against his taller one. He was asleep from what she could tell, and if not, she doubted he would remember what they were talking about. "No, I haven't informed him yet. I didn't even know it was Neil until today. He was always such a sweet bloke."
"How about that DI? Have you informed him?"
Amber snorted lightly. "Unfortunately he saw my reaction to hearing the name. Lestrade allowed me the rest of the day off but tomorrow I'll have to sit down with him and explain. I'm not even sure if Neil is alive or dead."
"According to the hospital records, Neil Donaghy was pronounced dead upon arrival to the hospital. Mr. Watson is lucky this shooting was in self-defense."
Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean this shooting?"
Mycroft gave a small scoffing laugh. "I'm sure if you asked him he'd tell you." She saw the man get up, grabbing for his umbrella, making to leave the room now. "I'll leave you to your sleep. Will we still meet at the end of the month per our agreement?"
"Of course," she said with annoyance. "One question," she gathered his attention away from the door. "How did you convince the hospital staff that I could stay? I'm not exactly family."
Mycroft gave a very unbecoming shrug, opening the door. "You'd have to ask Sherlock about that. Visiting hours have long since passed and John was gone before I arrived. Goodnight Amberlyn."
"Goodnight Mycroft," she whispered as she heard the door click shut.
She sighed, resting her head the best she could against both Sherlock's arm and the pillow. She suddenly didn't feel like sleeping any longer. Instead, she carefully pulled herself out of Sherlock's hold, slipping out of the bed landing on her shoe covered feet. She walked her way quietly to the couch where she took off her heels leaving her in only a pair of mismatched socks. She hadn't even realized she had done that again. Sherlock had mentioned it days ago that she often forgot to wear matching socks. She didn't have the nerve to tell him it was something she did to cheer herself up. Looking down at her mismatched feet made her smile. She had never figured out why, but it had worked since she was a small child.
She wandered to the window, moving the blinds so that she could look out at the city below. The streets were still busy and glancing at the clock she noticed that it wasn't quite past midnight. She leaned against the wall, looking down, seeing all the lights and even people walking around. All those people going about their normal lives while she was fighting a battle none of them could understand. She was tad bit envious of them all.
She began to think of everything that had happened in such a short period of time. She had met one of the most amazing men she had ever had the privilege of meeting and here she was almost six months later, sleeping in the same bed as him. She had learned Brianna, her sister she had thought was dead, was alive somewhere being held hostage. She had faced down packages from a stalker and sadistic taunts from a killer. She had seen her best friend enter a stable relationship and for once in her life she actually felt like she belonged somewhere.
Yet, the more she realized what exactly was happening in her life, she was beginning to understand that there might not be a safe way out of this. Sherlock had been shot by a henchman to the one truly after her. And with that man now laying in the morgue there was no one to tell the police who was behind everything and, more importantly, why it was happening. If a simple stalker was capable of putting a bullet in someone she loved, what was a killer capable of doing to her or someone she was close to? She worried that she wouldn't make it out alive or that Sherlock or John or Amber or Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade might be hurt somehow. She didn't want that to happen but the more she thought about it, the more she noticed that there might not be away around it. That scared her more than any message from a killer or package from a stalker could ever do.
She crossed her arms as she felt a shiver run up her spine. Trying to take her mind of her dark thoughts, she turned her head so she could look at Sherlock still sleeping on the bed. It was rare that she actually got to witness him sleeping. He rarely slept during a case and when he did it was only to either please her or because his body forced him to sleep before he collapsed. When he did decide to sleep, he always fell asleep long after she had already done so and he was always up before she woke in the mornings. He looked so normal, boyish almost. He didn't look like the consulting detective she knew he was. He wasn't the man running around the city, pissing people off, or making national headlines. Sleeping, he was simply Sherlock Holmes, the man she was head over heels for.
Sighing, she crossed the room once more to sit on the couch, curling knees to her chest as she thought about what her family would think. Her sisters had never favored her marrying Scot, neither had her aunt and uncle. Her brother had long since been gone as had her parents. The divorce had come as a God send, at least from her family's point of view. The death of her premature son hadn't been, that had been a tragedy they calmed she was too young to handle. Her sisters had praised her for getting her life back, saying she was to young to have been attached and tied down like that.
Now at twenty eight, nearly twenty nine, years of age she was in love again. She knew where her aunt and uncle stood on the topic. Her aunt knew of Sherlock only through the papers as did her uncle and cousins. None of them had been pleased to hear that Amber was involved with him but upon hearing the happiness in her voice, she knew that they wouldn't disagree that she deserved to be happy with someone. He made her feel happy even when she wanted to slap him when he was irritating her and everyone else. He treated her right, didn't yell at her, didn't call her names, and most certainly he had never laid a hand on her violently. He would make rude comments yes, but that was just how he was. She understood when he commented on her intelligence or how it took her a little longer to keep up with his train of thought. He wasn't being intentionally mean about it and would, more often than not, apologize for it later when he realized what he had said to her. He held her like she was precious, smiled at her like she was his light, and touched her like no one had before.
That alone, thinking of Sherlock, lulled her away from the fear and the worry back into the realm of calmness, a place she desperately needed to be. Though she wasn't as frantic as she had been, her mind still often raced, her heart rate still increased, and sometimes her hands did shake. It was only one day, one day out of so many in which she had felt so calm and she hoped, really hoped, that she could keep herself that way. An overreaction at this point could cost her more than just her camera.
With a heavy sigh, she stretched herself out on the couch staring at the dark ceiling above her. She allowed her eyes to close for a moment. The next thing she knew, it was morning and Sherlock's coat was laid across her like a blanket.
Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are always welcome:
A/N: So, what did you think? I wasn't that evil now was I? However, well, I might get eviler later on. Remember I have about 7 chapters left and they will be getting progressively more dangerous and I promise there will be cliffhangers. Now, I know this story is rated M. I was originally going to have a mature scene in this story, though at this point I don't think there will be. I hope none of you are mad about that. I know I've hinted at sex before, but that was mostly just want it was, hinting. Right now it's getting to the climax (no pun intended) of the story and I don't think they have time for those kinds of activities(maybe). But the next story following this will have some of those mature themes as Amber and Sherlock's relationship picks up and evolves.
As for the sequel, I already have a name for it but I'm struggling with a name for the series over all. I'm going between "The Study of Life" or "The Amberlyn Chronicles". Which do you all like better? Or maybe you have suggestions? Let me know.
I'm also going to be putting a poll up for Amber and Sherlock's couple name in the next few days. So let me know if you have any suggestions. So far through the series I have heard Amberlock, Shamber(Sherlock and Amber), and Hevons(Holmes and Devons).
Oh and a great big thanks to everyone reading this story, following it, favoriting it, and reviewing it. I have nearly hit 200 reviews, which is an all time high on anything I have ever written. I never thought I'd get anywhere near that number! You guys are so awesome and have been so supportive. Seeing an email of a review or new fav/follow just makes my day. Even if it's only one!
And finally some shameless advertising. I have a tumblr, you can either look it up on my profile (if you want/have a tumblr) or type this into your bar lostinthetardisifoundmywayhome . tumblr . com. Of course take out the the spaces. So yeah, ignore this if you want, I usually don't do this. I just felt like stating it!
Okay, until next time my lovelies!