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Amelia Pond gave a small, soft smile to Sherlock Holmes. A man of twenty. A man who wore his hair like Morrissey, and who liked his jean jacket a bit too much.
A man she and The Doctor had met when they had landed in Oxford circa 1995. A man whom upon meeting she had laughed and said, “You look like a wannabe Morrissey.”
Now he was standing outside his flat, the flat his mother still paid for each month. He looked at her with a smile, his heart knowing something was going to go wrong. The Doctor had walked back to the TARDIS while mumbling something about how annoying human geniuses were.
“We’ll be right back.” She said to Sherlock.
He nodded. “I know.”
“Ten minutes. I promise.”
He nodded again. “Have fun, Amelia.”
She gave him a knowing look, a small tender smile, before turning around and following The Doctor to the blue Police Box.
“Clean your flat! It’s messy.” She called to Sherlock across the street.
He was about to respond, but she had disappeared into the box. He watched it disappear and then took a deep breath.
He walked into the flat, and began cleaning. Preparing for her return. He trusted her promise.
A promise she would break.