Her hands. Jeanne's hand was glittering as if she's partially made out of gold. "Is this..?" Amy's confusion had made her stutter and make her blabber out random words of amazement. "What is that? Your hand.."

"It's aurum," Jeanne explained as she gently put her glove back on. "Something precious. Ever since I can remember I had it. As long as I have this hand, I can return home."

"Isn't Domrémy your home? Your birthplace?"

Jeanne stayed silent for a second. "No. My home is with my Husband."

"Understood." Amy shrugged and looked at the soldiers. All of them were poorly equipped. She frowned her eyes since all this looked a bit familiar. Like she had read this from a history book.

"What town is this exactly?" she asked Jeanne, who was feeding her horse.

"La Charité. Why?" Still didn't ring a bell and made Amy pout for not knowing the whole history of Jeanne's travels.

"Oh, just curious. Never been to France before." Amy sat on a hay stack, which was rolled here for Jeanne's horse. She kicked the hay out of boredom.

As her feet moved, she started to think about her past. Well, tried to think about her past.

About two years ago, all of her memories were gone. She found herself in an alleyway at a quiet street of London. Not knowing where she is, only knowing who she is. Amelia Pond.

Amy got up, a bit shaken up for some reason. Only a minute later, she noticed she was crying.

After few minutes of crying, somebody called out her name. "Amelia?" She looked up and felt her heart throb.

"You know me?" She asked the strange man. Dark hair, eyes so pure and light that they looked like diamonds; he was dressed warmly unlike Amy, who wore a red Dolman sleeve hoody, a skirt, ripped stockings and dirty converse. She was practically a mess.

"Yes, I'm Sherlock Holmes. How long have you been here?"

Amy shook her head as she cried out "I don't know, I can't remember. I don't remember anything. My mind – it's completely blank. I only know my identity."

Sherlock took off his jacket and put it around Amy. "I'm going to take you to Baker Street, then I'm gonna look if I can get on hold of your family." He tried to calm the poor girl down for she was very shaken up and in shock. Where is the orange shock blanket when you actually need one?

Back at Baker Street Sherlock lead her upstairs. "Mrs Hudson, make her some green tea to calm her down. She'll be sitting upstairs."

Mrs Hudson had no idea what was going on, but decided to do what Sherlock directed her to do.

"Sit on the couch and wait for Mrs Hudson." Sherlock explained, when they got upstairs to his and John's flat. Amy did what she was told.

The flat looked a bit dirty, but she decided to ignore it. Sherlock opened a cupboard and took out a blanket. He took off his jacket from Amy and gave her the blanket.

"Here's some money, Amelia, and a map of London." He said as he gave her the items. "When you're relaxed and fine, go buy some clothes -Or clean the one's you have- your choice."

"Where are you going?" Amy stopped him before he turned away.

"I'm going to continue on my case and return with an update about your family. It will take approximately 6 hours." Amy let her grip loose and nodded. He left.

Amy didn't stay in the flat whole day. She drank all of the tea and pretzel, Mrs Hudson made for her, and left the flat to buy clothes with the money Sherlock gave her. Pounds, they call it. She paid much attention to the numbers, when choosing clothes, which concluded the shopping quite easy. She understood there was a limit.

After buying some clothes, she went to the washing machine house and washed her clothes there. As she waited for the washing to finish, she decided to read a paper. Miraculously, she could remember how to read. On the front page, there was an article about a possible alien encounter near the streets where Amy found herself. She shrugged it off, because she feels like that information isn't necessary to keep.

The whole time spent at that place, made her feel lonely. Part of herself missed Sherlock – Especially his eyes. They're so gentle-looking and delicate. Does he really know her? Strange man, she thought, that Sherlock Holmes. Before she noticed, she was blushing. Deeply. The noise of a washing machine finishing made her snap out of it.

Amy opened her eyes and noticed she was daydreaming. A gunshot had made her snap out of it. "The English!" One of the young soldiers cried out. "They're coming!"

"What?" Jeanne raged.

Thinking about Sherlock made Amy remember more about La Charité. "Jeanne! La Charité was supposed to be on siege. You and your army was supposed to get it back, but this is very different from the History books."

Jeanne turned to her. "The siege has already been won. We came her to gather the remaining troops." "THIS wasn't in the History books!"

"This wasn't meant to be there, Amelia, can't you see?" Jeanne's voice has changed. It had turned much deeper and she swore she saw her eyes glisten of gold for a second. It's Him. She's facing the Lord. "What are guns doing in the 15th century?" Amy glared at her. That made Jeanne grin.

"Well done, Doctor's companion. You're smarter than I thought. A useful weapon, indeed."