(( Hi guys.

I haven't posted in, what, a month? Gosh, I am sorry. I am posting two chapters today. I hope you enjoy. Not much happens in this one.))

Amy and Sherlock had been to the morgue. That morning two people were found dead in Soho. Both of them knew that this was no coincidence.

"Both victims were found in the same area of the city. Both of them died in similar circumstances."

"But what was the cause?" Amy sat opposite Sherlock who was poised in a thoughtful manner.

"There are no physical markings on either of the bodies, nothing to suggest that they were killed physically. There are no traces of drugs or other harmful substances in their systems- only alcohol except the amount was nowhere near enough to kill them. And there was no record of them having any illnesses, no heart attacks, seizures..." Sherlock hummed.

"It's odd. It's like...they had their life taken from them."

"They did. They're dead."

"No. I don't mean..." She sighed. "I mean, it's like they had all of their energy pulled from them. They looked so... empty... Their deaths are similar to Joe Vidal's..."

"Except he is not dead."

"Then explain to me why his body was in the morgue."

"I have asked myself why a number of times and I remembered just how easy it can be to fake one's death. I've seen it multiple times. It's not hard when you know how."

"Sherlock, you and I both know that that was Joe Vidal's body in the morgue."

There was silence and Amy's eyes wandered freely around the room. She still hadn't forgotten the vibes she had got from her encounter with Joe Vidal two days ago. Strange vibes. Bad vibes; vibes you didn't get from just ordinary people. And for a thin man he had been strong. The way he had gripped her. She wouldn't have been surprises if he'd had broken her wrist. And his eyes, they had been almost menacing, frantic. Something wasn't right.

And the Doctor. He had mentioned the Doctor. He couldn't just mean any Doctor.

Her suspicions were rising like flames from a campfire. The more she thought about it, the more one word kept springing to mind - alien.

Of course, she could be wrong. Yet the niggling sensation in her mind was telling her to go with her gut feeling. It was the only way she could explain it, make it seem logical to her.

If he was an alien then what kind? Or it - what was it? A multiform? She never forgot the creepy, toothy blue snake thing that had been Prisoner Zero hiding out in her house. It seemed, for a while, logical that it could be a multiform - what else could it be?

She hadn't told Sherlock of this. She wasn't sure whether she should. He would never believe her. What would she say anyway? She's only sound stupid. However, she felt he knew that she was suspicious of something by the way he was looking at her. Quizzical.

"What?" she questioned, snapping away from her train of thoughts that soon trekked off up the railway line.

"You're thinking. About what?"

"Uhm... Nothing." Don't lie. He knows you're lying. Think of something. "Actually, do you think if we visit the bar where one of the victims was found outside of they'll let us look at the CCTV? It might give us an idea of what happened."

A hint of a smirk pulled at his lips. "I was thinking the same thing."