A/N: ((Big apologies for being so late with the update! I've been so busy with my last months at college and my computer kinda broke yada yada yada... you don't need to hear about my life haha! Anyway, I have still been writing (Pondlock is the only thing I can think about right now) and I will try to get those chapters up a.s.a.p.

This might seem like a pointless chapter, but I felt that I needed to bring our favorite army doctor into the story, and it leads up to the next chapter.

But enough of me rambling on. Enjoy!

As always, feel free to R & R, follow, favorite, criticise, whatever. You guys keep me writing!))

There had been no more cases since. The rest of the week dragged by slowly. It was very boring for Sherlock. At least he had his many types of pharmaceutical drugs to experiment on to keep his brain from rusting.

For Amy, however, things had been a bit livelier. She has taken the part-time job in the cafe next door after having no look elsewhere; and she was surprised at how interesting it was. There were all sorts of people popping in and out during the hours that she worked, each with their own little stories to tell to her, or someone they were meeting inside, or on the phone. Admittedly, she wasn't earning as much money as she would have liked but it was a start, at least, and she enjoyed the job. It made a change from her previous ventures. And it was definitely better than doing nothing.

Yet ut wasn't as good as solving crimes with Sherlock Holmes.

For once, all thoughts of the Doctor hadn't crossed her mind. Now she was thinking about Sherlock and his job. Or was it a hobby?

Working on that case with Sherlock a few days ago was completely diff- actually, perhaps not that different after all. The thinking, the mystery, stopping bad guys, oh and the running!

It was exactly like the things Amy had experienced before! Except without the aliens and the time travel part of it.

One thing she had picked up from Sherlock was noticing things. She was now noticing things she wouldn't normally have noticed before. Rings. Paper sticking out of pockets. Tiny scratches on walls. It started to come naturally to her, even if she still found it hard to figure out something about someone without being told. That, she reckoned, would take ages to mater.

Midway through Amy's second week at 221b someone turned up. A man - blonde, wearing a black coat and hand - was stood outside the flat just as Amy arrived back from the shops carrying bags.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect; it looked like he had just arrived.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

The male faced Amy with a hint of confusion, taking a tiny step back. Amy realised this, then smiled widely. "It's okay, I live here," she stated.

"Oh..." He nodded in realisation. "You must be Sherlock's new flatmate."

"That's me. Amy Pond."

"John Watson. Hi."

"I'd shake your hand but, yeah..." She glanced down at the bags she was only just managing to hold and laughed.

He laughed slightly, too. "Is Sherlock in?"

"He should be. Is he not answering?"

"Don't worry, this is normal."

"Luckily, I'm here. Hold on." It took Amy a while but she managed to open the door with her hands full. As she stepped aside to let John in, he kindly offered to take one of the bags from her. She thanked him, and they headed upstairs. They passed Mrs Hudson on the way. The landlady was extremely pleased to see John.

Sherlock seemed to smile more than Amy had ever seen him. Total liar, Mr Holmes, you do miss John. Not even John's presence, though, could draw him away from his microscopic lens.

John wasn't at all bothered by it; it was what he was used to and didn't expect anything less of his friend. It didn't bother him when Sherlock moaned at him for accidentally knocking over science equipment on the kitchen table while helping Amy unload the shopping either. It was like living there all over again, something which he undeniably missed, despite living happily with Mary. "How are you settling in?" John asked Amy. They sat opposite each other with tea.

"Fine. I mean, it was a tad strange to start with - I'm not used to big cities - but I like it here. And Sherlock is absolutely charming."

John noted the sarcasm. "He certainly has a great way with the ladies - with everyone in fact," he chuckled. "Have you had gunfire in the early morning yet?"

"Yes - on my first night here. No-one warned me about that."

"We'll have to put a warning in his ad for a new flatmate if you ever decide to move out."

"Yes. 'Warning, bring ear plugs'... Or something. Oh, and 'Must be used to seeing random body parts in random places in flat'."

"You've experienced that, too."

"Yup - Fingers in the fridge."

"It could have been worse. He had a head in there once. An actual severed head. No food, just that."

"Urgh..."

"I am still here, I haven't left," interrupted Sherlock from behind them.

In an hour, John and Amy did all the talking, generally just getting to know each other. John was how Amy had imagined him; kind, easy to get on with, well informed - he was the complete opposite of Sherlock. Maybe that's why they had worked so well as friends.

When Sherlock eventually came to join them, John moved the conversation to Sherlock's preferred subject. "Only one," he told John when he was asked if he had any cases since the last time tgey saw each other. "Last week."

"Anything interesting?"

"Hardly. It was average."

"I thought it was pretty interesting actually," interjected Amy, who was checking a text message she had received. 'Where are you?' from Rory. Her mood dropped.

Sherlock was rambling. "...it was my brother's attempt at keeping me entertained for a bit, but it was really for Amy's benefit, to show her what I do. The case itself barely scratched the surface."

"You went with Sherlock?" John turned to Amy.

Amy smirked. "He didn't have much of a choice."

John was keen to know what the case was about and Amy was equally as keen to tell him, except her phone started ringing and she excused herself from the room. Low and behold it was Rory. She knew she had to take it. He had been ringing several times and would continue to do so until she picked up.

"I told you not to call me," she spoke quietly with the phone pressed hard to her ear.

"Amy! I know, I know, but I want to talk to you..."

"Rory..."

"I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"It's important."

There was a lot of noise on the other end of the phone that Amy could hear. A distinct sound of an engine and chug-chug-chugging distracted her. "Is that a train? Rory, where are you?"

"Charing Cross station."

"What? Why?"

"To see you." Then he dropped the bombshell and his voice quivered slightly. He didn't want to say it. "And give you the divorce papers..."

Hearing that broke Amy. Obviously, she still loved Rory. The love wasn't going to go away just like that, not after everything they had been through, all those years spent together. Even though she knew this was going to happen eventually it was still somewhat of a shock to her system. "Right," she managed to say.

"Can we meet up then?" Rory sounded really disheartened.

"Uhm, yes..."

"Okay. When? And where?"

"I don't know. I'll text you."

"Today, though, yeah?"

"Tomorrow."

"But-"

"Tomorrow, Rory."

"Fine."

He was the one who hung up.

Amy stood in the hallway clutching at her phone with her eyes closed in an attempt to fight back the tears. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself as best as she could, trying to free herself from the guilt and upset that lingered in her stomach. In no way was she upset with Rory, she was upset with herself. Because she was hurting him.