Sherlock sat at his desk, typing away as fast as he could on his laptop. He had just finished an experiment that could help him to identify what instrument a musician played by the callouses on his or her fingertips and hands after solving a case about a cellist that strangled his girlfriend and framed it as a fake robbery. As he tried to post the information to his website, his hands were having trouble skimming across the keys as fast as his mind was spilling out information. He was like an overflowing fountain; no matter how much was forced out, there was always more filling it back up and spilling out again. Suddenly his phone rang, breaking his concentration and causing him to lose his place. When the phone rang again, he turned in the general direction of where he thought he left at it and yelled, "shut up!" at it. Sherlock's yelling woke John from his first chance to sleep in days. John huffed and threw his dressing gown on and walked out to the living room to see what the commotion was for.

"Sherlock, who are you talking to?" He asked as he yawned. "It's nearly three in the morning."
"No one. The phone was distracting me so I told it off," Sherlock replied trying to focus back on typing up his findings. The phone rang again and he glared at it. "Get that, will you?" he asked John and turned back to his computer. John rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen table where Sherlock's phone was sitting.
"It's Angelo," John said. He was a bit puzzled that Angelo was calling Sherlock's phone in the middle of the night. The only reason John could think would be behind the call was a break in. He picked up the phone and quickly took it over to Sherlock.
"I told you to answer it," Sherlock said. He was getting more and more annoyed with each interruption.

"Just answer it. He's called you in the middle of the night so it must be important," John told him and hit the answer button so Sherlock couldn't protest. Sherlock shot him a glare and took the phone from his hand and held it up to his ear in one swift movement.
"What do you want, Angelo?" Sherlock asked harshly.
"Sherlock, I need you to come down to the restaurant. Something's happened." Angelo said quickly. Sherlock could hear him breathing heavily and his voice shook when he spoke. Due to Angelo's size and criminal history, Sherlock doubted it was a break in. Not many criminals were stupid enough to try something on Angelo knowing what he was capable of. And Angelo wasn't type to get worked up over nothing. Maybe Angelo actually had something interesting for him to solve.
"I know it's not a break in, so what is it?" Sherlock said. Angelo started to explain that Amy was there but Sherlock cut him off in mid-sentence. "Why would I care if Amy is there?" He asked and looked over at John accusingly. John threw his hands up and gave Sherlock a confused look.
"I think someone's hurt her. I found her passed out at the front door of the restaurant. There's a pretty nasty gash in the back of her head," Angelo said.
"We're on our way," Sherlock told him and hung up the phone. He turned to John and told him to get dressed then went to find his shoes and throw on his coat.
"Has something happened to Amy?" John asked.
"I'll explain on the way. Now go put some trousers on." Sherlock told him. John nodded and hurried back to his room. He picked the jumper and pair of jeans he'd worn earlier and threw them on then hastily grabbed his shoes and slid them on and tied them as he went down the hall. He bounced on one leg while lifting his other to tie the shoe on that foot then alternated. Sherlock was waiting for him in the living room and threw John his coat when he entered the room.

"We're going on foot, I assume," John said as he slid his jacket on. Sherlock nodded and took off running with John trailing behind him. The flew through the door to their flat, down the stairs and out the front door. The streets were eerily empty compared to the traffic that usually consumed them and something about the barrenness made John feel uneasy. He and Sherlock ran full speed across the handful of blocks separating Baker Street and Angelo's and made the trip in under three minutes. As they crossed the street over to the entrance of the restaurant, Sherlock came to a sudden halt and stuck his arm out to keep John from walking any farther.
"We'll have to go in through the back door," Sherlock told him. John looked at the pavement near the entrance of the restaurant. There was a decent sized blood stain right in front of the door. His stomach was in knots. Sherlock slowly walked up to the blood stain and looked at it closely for a few seconds."That's where Angelo found her." Sherlock said..
John swallowed hard and quietly asked, "Sherlock, she isn't dead is she?"
"No. Angelo found her passed out here and has her inside now. He thinks she may have been attacked," Sherlock told him then pushed him down a narrow alley along the side of the building then around to the back door. They walked through the kitchen and out in to the dining room where Angelo was with Amy. She was laying on the bench by the window where John and Sherlock ate dinner the night they met her. Angelo pushed the table out of the way and was kneeling beside her holding a towel to the back of her head.
"John, I need you to examine her while I ask Angelo some questions," Sherlock said. John nodded and knelt beside Amy. His hands replaced Angelo's on the towel and Angelo followed Sherlock a few feet away to give John some space.
"Tell me everything that happened from when you heard her to when we got here," Sherlock told him.
"Well, I was cleaning up in the kitchen and all the sudden I heard a banging noise in the dining room so I went to go check it out thinking someone was knocking on the door because forgot something. That happens a lot on the busy days. But when I got out there I heard someone screaming, a woman, so I ran to the door and there was Amy. She was out cold by the time I carried her in here. Then I noticed the back of her head was covered in blood so I grabbed a rag and tried to clean her up," Angelo told him.
"Did you see anyone else when you went outside?" Sherlock asked.
"Not a soul," Angelo replied. "I don't even know how she got here or where she came from."
Sherlock had about four ideas of what happened after getting the call. The most probable of them being that Amy had been working, stayed late to help clean up and was attacked when she left. Angelo's was at its busiest on Saturdays but Amy hadn't been there? She was one of the main attractions at the restaurant. Sherlock was surprised she wasn't on the menu.
"Was she supposed to come in to work?" Sherlock inquired.
"No, she took the night off with a couple other gals. They wanted to show her around London since she's still fairly new to the city," Angelo told him.
"I'm going to need the names of everyone she went out with." Sherlock told him. "Is there anything else you can think of?"

"Not really. But if you've got more questions I'll try to answer them," He replied. Sherlock nodded and went back to where John and Amy were.
"What can you tell so far?" Sherlock asked him.
"I can smell a bit of alcohol on her but I don't think it'd be enough to make her bash in her own head in or pass out on a doorstep. She's lost some blood from the laceration on the back of her head and it's probably going to need stitches. Her pulse is low and her skin is clammy. My best guess is she was drugged and abducted from where ever she was and somehow managed to escape and find her way here before passing out." John said.
Sherlock stepped between John and Amy and took over the investigation. He felt inside her jacket for keys, cigarettes, anything that could tell him what she had been doing that night. In her pocket were a couple receipts, a crumpled napkin and a coat ticket from a club. Her name and the date was hand written on one side and Opal was printed on to the back. He gave the tag to John then slid her jacket off to inspect her arms. There were small oval bruises around her right elbow and wrist, the back of her shoulders were also bruised, but she had no defensive wounds anywhere on her arms. He slid his hands across her ribs and didn't feel any that were broken or out of place. He reached in to his pocket and pulled out his magnifying glass and looked at the scrapes on her knees. The cuts were jagged and there were bits of gravel inside. Sherlock stepped back and arranged the puzzle pieces of information in to a clear picture of what had happened to Amy.
"What do you think?" John asked.

"She had a coat tag from Opal night club in her pocket with the name and yesterday's date written on it, so that's where she went with her friends. She probably met her attacker there. She trusted him enough to accept a drink from him so it might be someone she knows. Maybe one of her suitors from the restaurant? He put something in her drink that caused her to become disoriented. He lead her out by her wrist. I doubt anyone thought much of it. She probably looked like she had too much to drink and someone was escorting her out. He held on to her tightly because there are fingertip-shaped bruises.
"When they got away from the club, she shoved her against a wall causing the injury to her head and the bruises on her shoulder. If she had just fallen, all the force would have gone to the back of her head, the bruises suggest additional force. She has no defensive wounds so she managed to get away without a fight but fell in the process, causing the scrapes on her knees." Sherlock said. He spoke so quickly that he expelled all the information in one breath. After John's mind processed what Sherlock had said, he processed the way he had said it. Sherlock seemed angry. His voice was lower than normal and John thought he saw Sherlock flinch when he mentioned Amy's attacker shoving her in to a wall. The thought of some strange man trying to force himself on any girl was enough to make John angry, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock didn't worry about other people. John had never seen him walk away from a crime scene with a heavy heart but he had a feeling this would be different.

"Call Lestrade and get him someone over here to check everything out and clean up. We've got to get her to Bart's. I need to figure out what's in her system and she's going to need medical attention obviously," Sherlock said to John. "You're going to have to stay behind and explain what's happened."
"Sure," John said hastily. "Of course. You go with Amy. I can take care of things here."

Sherlock nodded and started to pick up the scraps from Amy's pocket. He looked through them again just to make absolutely sure he hadn't missed anything before throwing them in to the bin. The receipts were from a few days before and didn't tell him anything except for what she had for lunch and that she bought a new dress, presumably the one she was wearing, for her night out. He reached for the napkin and unfolded it to see if there was anything written on it that could help him. Maybe if he was lucky her attacker was stupid enough to write his name down. But what was written on the napkin surprised him completely. There was something written on it but the handwriting was his. She had kept the napkin he wrote "thank you" on the night he met her.
John looked up from his phone to ask Sherlock a question and saw him staring at whatever was in his hands. John took a step closer to see what it was but Sherlock stuffed what he was holding in to his coat pocket. "What was that?" John asked suspiciously.
"Nothing. Just something from Amy's jacket. It may be useful," Sherlock said and dismissed him. "Go call Lestrade. I've got to figure out a way to get Amy to the hospital." He said and pulled out his phone.
"Shouldn't we get an ambulance to take her?" John asked
"No time for an ambulance." Sherlock replied as if he was annoyed that John had even considered it.
"I'll give you a lift to the hospital." Angelo offered. "A cab sure isn't going to take you if you're carrying Amy. You wouldn't even be let on the tube." Sherlock thanked him and turned back to Amy. He looked at her, really looked at her, as a person he knew instead of just someone at a crime scene. He could feel anger burning deep inside him somewhere but he wasn't sure if he was more angry with Amy for putting herself in a situation where she would get hurt or the man who had done this to her. And he was angry with himself for even caring.
While Angelo pulled his car around to the front of the restaurant, John helped Sherlock scoop Amy up. Sherlock cradled her against him with her head resting on his shoulder. John held her head up and pressed a fresh towel to the back of it. Angelo honked and the two men carefully carried Amy out his car. As John was opening the door for Sherlock, Amy stirred for a moment and whispered something.
"Did she just wake up?" John asked anxiously.

"Not completely. She just said something." Sherlock said looking down at Amy. Knowing John would ask what it is she said, he looked back to John and said, "She said 'Doctor'."

oOo

Lestrade and his men met John at the restaurant shortly after Sherlock and Angelo had taken off with Amy. John explained what had happened and why Sherlock had taken Amy to the hospital before the police arrived. Lestrade rolled his eyes and thanked John for staying behind to help. He relayed what had happened to his men and got them moving. John sat down at one of the tables and checked his phone for any updates from Sherlock.
"So, Sherlock's got a girlfriend now," an annoyingly familiar voice said. John looked up at Donovan hovering above him with her hands on her hips. "First he gets a flatmate and now a girlfriend? What is the world coming to?"

"She's not his girlfriend. She's just a friend," John told her.
"And look what being Freak's friend has gotten her in to," Donovan said impudently. John rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his phone.

Over at Bart's, Sherlock was in the lab testing Amy's blood while Angelo was in her room with her. Angelo acted as a messenger for the doctors and Sherlock. He kept Sherlock updated on Amy's condition and passed along Sherlock's demands to the doctors. It had been a while since he had heard from Angelo. The last text he had recieved had been the doctor's more detailed examination of Amy's injuries. They stitched up the gash in the back of her head then took x-rays. Her right wrist had been dislocated but she had no broken bones and all the bruises and cuts were superficial. While the tests finished processing, Sherlock checked his phone to make sure he hadn't missed anything but all that was waiting for him was a text from John that simply read, "you okay?"
Sherlock scoffed at the text. Of course he was alright. Why would he be upset over any of this? It was just another day at work and another case to solve. He had seen much worse than a girl with some scrapes and bruises. What would be the point of getting emotional over this girl that he had met twice? But as much as his mind fought against him caring about her, he still did. It bothered him seeing someone so resilient broken and bloody. The lack of defense wounds on her body bothered him the most. Why hadn't Amy fought back? Sherlock knew Amy wasn't the kind of woman to go down without a struggle. So what kept her from fighting?

The computer beeped to alert Sherlock that the blood tests were complete. He put his phone away and turned his attention back to the computer. The tests had identified the drug in Amy's system as benzodiazepine. Sherlock sifted through different medications that contained benzodiazepine that were fairly easy for just anyone to get their hands on that appeared in the club scene. "Of course," Sherlock said, almost chuckling at how obvious it was. "Xanax."

He grabbed his coat and scarf off the back of the chair next to him and headed up to Amy's hospital room. When he reached Amy's room, he was greeted by a handful of police officers. "What are you lot doing here? Don't you have a crime scene to process?" Sherlock asked snidely.
"Lestrade sent us. We needed her clothes," a young officer said nervously and titled his head toward Amy who was now in a hospital gown.
Sherlock glared at him for a moment then said, "As usual you can't see what is really important. Her clothes won't be much help. What would be useful is her being able to wake up and not be sent straight in to shock because she has no idea where she is, what she's wearing or what has happened to her in the last few hours."
"I'm sorry, sir. They were Lestrade's orders," the officer stammered out.
"Just get what you came for and get out so I can actually make some progress," Sherlock snapped. The officer nodded and hurried away from him. It took a few more outbursts from Sherlock but eventually Amy's hospital room cleared until it was just them and Angelo who was half asleep in one of the chairs. After a row with one of the doctors, Sherlock managed to get Amy released and wake up Angelo. While he waited for Amy's paperwork to be finished, he called John and updated him on the situation.
"Why did you get her released?" John asked.
"Because we need answers from her and to get answers she has to wake up and waking up in a hospital, not in her own clothes, having no idea how she got there and not knowing anyone is just going to send her in to shock. Do I have to explain this to everyone?" Sherlock groaned.
"So where are we going to take her? We don't know where she lives!" John said still confused by Sherlock's plan.
"We'll take her back to the flat, give her some spare clothes and let her sleep in my room," Sherlock said as if it was completely obvious. "We'll stay with her to make sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit and then when she wakes up, we question her, then call her boyfriend because I'm sure he's wondering where she's gone off to."

"Right," John sighed. He could see a few loopholes in Sherlock's plan but it was better to just agree and deal with it as they go along than to reform it all now. "I'll meet you back at the flat, then," he said then hung up. Sherlock tucked his phone back in his pocket and walked over to Amy's bed. On the other side of Amy, a nurse was quietly pulling the IV out of her arm. The nurse's hand slipped and the needle jabbed back in to Amy's arm. Suddenly Amy's eyes fluttered open and she groaned.

"Amy, can you hear me?" Sherlock said, his hands flying up to the her cheeks.
"Doctor, is that you?"Amy said in a whisper. Her eyes flickered over to Sherlock and she fought to keep them open. "Sherlock?" she mumbled before she closed her eyes again. Sherlock stiffened up and dropped his hands. He reminded himself that caring wouldn't help save Amy, that emotions would only get in the way and that lust was the wrong kind of distraction.
When Angelo returned, Sherlock wasted no time getting Amy in the wheelchair so they could leave. Sherlock lead their way through the hospital, pushing past people as fast as he could. Angelo left him with Amy while he went to the car park to fetch the car. Sherlock pulled out a cigarette from the pack he kept hidden in the inside pocket of his coat and lit up. The nicotine rushed through him and called his shaky nerves. In front of him, the sun had began to rise, turning everything around them orange. Even in the warm glow, the cold air still nipped at his skin. He looked over to Amy wearing not much more than the hospital gown and saw her shiver. Without hesitation, Sherlock held his cigarette between his lips, slipped out of his jacket and wrapped it around Amy.

oOo

John was waiting for Sherlock when he finally arrived back at the flat. John held the door open as Sherlock carefully carried Amy up the stairs in to the flat then back to his room, placing her carefully on the bed. He removed his coat from her and hung it on the back of the door.
"John, I need you to do me a favor," Sherlock said as he turned back to him.
"What do you need?" John asked tentatively.
"Since you're a doctor I think it would be more, um, appropriate for you to be the one who changed Amy in to some of my spare clothes," Sherlock said somewhat awkwardly. John nodded and Sherlock retrieved a plain cotton t-shirt and a pair of striped pajama bottoms from one of his dresser drawers and handed them to him. He waited for Sherlock to leave the room before carefully pulling Amy's hospital gown off, not knowing exactly where and how she was injured. Meanwhile, Sherlock paced restlessly outside the door of his room. Amy being out of his sight made him uncomfortable. For some reason he couldn't understand himself, he had started to grow protective over. He reminded himself that she would be safe with John and that worrying, or caring, wasn't going to help Amy in any way.
"Sherlock?" John called.
Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks and pressed his ear against the door. "Is there something wrong?" He asked trying not to sound worried.
"Amy woke up. She said your name," John told him. Sherlock heard him say something else, he assumed to Amy, in a softer voice but he couldn't make out what he was saying.
"Am I supposed to come in?" Sherlock inquired.
"Yes, she's dressed." John replied. Sherlock took a deep breath and opened the door. Amy was sitting up and leaning in to John to keep herself upright. Sherlock sat on the other side of her and John tilted her so her weight rested on him then left the room without saying a word.
"Sherlock?" Amy said, her words still slurring together. "What happened to me?"
"You were attacked. But it's alright now." Sherlock said, his tone contrastingly warm compared to his normally cold demeanor. "Can you remember anything from earlier?"
Amy's scrunched her face and squeezed her eyes shut as if it would help her think. After a few seconds she shook her head and started to lean more on Sherlock. "My head hurts," she said sleepily. Sherlock realized she was still too strung out to tell him what happened and that best thing she could do was sleep it off. So he gently guided her in to a laying position and started to pull the sheets over her.
"I'm cold, Sherlock," she whispered, almost inaudibly. Sherlock pulled his blue dressing gown from the corner of head headboard and slid it on to her and tied it up.
"Get some rest, Amy," Sherlock murmured and tucked her in to the blankets.
"You're not going to leave, are you?" She asked. "Because when Doctor left, he didn't come back." Sherlock could hear her voice shaking and tried to calm her as best as he could.
"I suppose I could stay if you'd like," he said gauchely. Amy simply nodded and wormed her way deeper in to the sheets. Sherlock reached out and delicately tucked a stray piece of Amy's hair behind her ear and whispered goodnight. He stood up and walked as quietly as he could over to his bookshelf in the corner of the room and picked something out to keep him entertained while he waited for Amy to wake up. He decided on a medical journal he hadn't read in a few years then sat in the chair next to the bookshelf and cracked the book open. After five or six chapters Sherlock felt his eyelids getting heavy so he leaned his head back and rested it against the wall and closed his eyes. He had been awake for twenty-nine solid hours and he knew that if he wanted to be able to function later, he needed a quick bit of sleep. All too soon, the sound of creaking floorboards and the smell of strong coffee roused him out of his coma like sleep. Sherlock opened his eyes and to see a chipper Amy Pond. She was kneeling in front of him with one hand on his knee and the other held a cup of coffee out to him. He took the coffee from her and sipped it. Black with two sugars, just the way he liked it.
"Good morning, Ms. Pond," he said, his voice still deep and drowsy.
"Good morning to you, Mr. Holmes," she replied brightly.