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While You Were Sleeping

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She had had few dealings with her boyfriend’s brother. Sherlock had preferred to keep them far apart for the duration of their relationship. She had the feeling that it was because he didn’t think his brother approved of her. She supposed she could see why; her travels with the Doctor had left her with holes in her past that were hard to explain, and while Sherlock knew the truth and accepted it she was not so sure others in his circle of family, friends and acquaintances would. That was all right, she supposed. He was used to making up stories to cover the truth of things he couldn’t talk about during his time taking care of Moriarty’s organization…coming up with stories to tell of her past and their relationship wasn’t much harder.

She had tried to keep her marriage together. No, scratch that, she hadn’t. Rory hadn’t either, not really. The wounds that Madame Kovarian had inflicted were too deep. It was easier to walk away and leave it all behind in the end. She knew it had hurt the Doctor but eventually she and Rory had managed to at least come to peace with things. They were happy enough in their new lives. Rory had gone back to being a nurse, having the normal life he had really preferred, and she had come on board the TARDIS full time, traveling the stars, moving through space and time.

And then her precious Doctor had gotten tangled up with a consulting detective named Sherlock Holmes and her life had been flipped upside down.

She hadn’t meant to fall for the arrogant arse of a man that they were helping in his crusade against the criminal mastermind who had ties with more than just the criminals on Earth. It had just…happened. She’d heard stories about him when she was in London. She’d known who he was, known about his reputation…known about the intelligence and attitude. But as she got to know him, got to peel back the layers of the man, she saw there was more to him than his puffed up arrogance. He was actually a decent enough person, loyal to his friends, kind at times, thoughtful. Passionate.

Quite passionate.

And before she knew it she was in love with him, simple as that.

What appeared to be two years to everyone else had been nearly four for the two of them, and their relationship had been quite solid, but when he’d gone back they’d had to pretend they were simply friends. So she’d gone to London, made her way as a travel writer, been one of his lesser known, lesser seen friends, and he’d gone back to his life in Baker Street, with no one knowing the extent of their relationship until one day he’d just shown up at her flat saying he couldn’t stand it anymore and he wanted to take her out on a proper date, damn it all who saw.

And that was that.

It had been nearly a year now to their friends, but well over three for them. Marriage wasn’t something they talked about, for a myriad of reasons. There was the fact she’d already done it, the fact he seemed to prefer being a bachelor, the fact the arrangement as it was between them worked out well.

Except now. Now, it seemed as his brother looked at her, it wasn’t going to work well at all.

“So I have to pretend to be his wife to be allowed to stay in the ward?” she asked slowly.

Mycroft Holmes nodded. “He was flown in by the London air ambulance. Right now he’s in the trauma ward, and eventually he’ll be moved to the general surgery ward. They only allow two patients at the bedside at a time. I doubt he’ll be awake often, but I’ve managed to allow his wife to stay past visiting hours. So you will need to pretend to be his wife.” He pulled a small ring box out of his suit pocket and handed it to her. “It was in his sock drawer.”

Her eyes widened at that. He had actually planned on giving her a ring. “He’s going to murder you,” she said, taking the ring box and opening it, staring at the brilliant diamond and ruby ring inside.

“Someone already attempted to do that tonight,” he said.

“Not exactly the best time for a morbid joke, Mycroft,” she said, a slight edge to her voice as she plucked the ring out of the box. She slipped it onto her ring finger on her left hand and was pleased it was a perfect fit.

“My apologies, Amelia,” he said. “I have a wedding band as well, though that is only temporary. If you do accept his proposal, if he does intend on making one, I am sure the two of you will get bands of your own.”

Her head snapped up and she stared at Mycroft. “What do you mean, ‘if’?”

Mycroft was quiet. “The damage was extensive, Amelia. There is the possibility of brain damage. Sherlock…may not be the same man when he wakes up. He may not remember things.” He paused. “He may not remember his relationship with you, or certain…details…of it.”

Amy nodded slowly, closing the lid of the ring box before looking down. She needed to steel herself for anything. “So he’ll be there for a time?”

“At least a few days. I’m pulling strings to ensure him a private room. He will not have to share it with anyone.”

“All right,” she said. “Do I need to go with you right now?”

He shook his head. “If you need to compose yourself, I understand. Just show them your identification as Amelia Pond and you’ll be allowed into his room.”

“All right,” she said. After a moment, Mycroft left, and Amy sat down and looked at the ring. Christmas was in two days. Had he planned on surprising her with this ring when she woke up in his bed Christmas morning? Was he waiting for some other perfect time? She ran a finger over the stones. It all should have gone differently. She would have said yes if he’d asked. She would have said yes with a wide smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She’d have let him slip the ring on her finger and thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him all over and drug him off to bed and thanked him profusely.

It shouldn’t have happened like this.

She just hoped that when he woke up, he still wanted her to have the ring, wanted to be with her. Hell, she hoped when he woke up, he still loved her.

She at least wanted that much.