tahigwagirl: Pondlock. Go go go

This is the first one I wrote, and I admit it isn’t exactly Pondlock, it’s more.. first meeting. Sorry.

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Logic and Lore (Wholock Fan Fiction)


  • Author: Whovian Muse (AO3 and LiveJournal)
  • Doctor Who and Sherlock Fan Fiction
  • Title: Logic and Lore (AO3 and LiveJournal)
  • Prequel: Mad and Magnificent (AO3 and LiveJournal)
  • Characters: Sherlock Holmes and Amelia Pond
  • Classification: One-Shot
  • Genre: Adult. Alternate Universe. Angst. Cross-Over: Doctor Who and Sherlock. Romance.
  • Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Sherlock. Respective concepts and characters belong to their creator(s). No copyright infringement is intended.
  • Summary: It’s been three years since Sherlock Holmes first met Amelia Pond on New Year’s Eve, nine months since the tragic death of Amelia’s husband, Rory Williams, and six months since the alleged suicide of London’s only consulting detective. Desperate for a distraction from his all-consuming guilt, depression, and boredom, Sherlock researches Amelia’s history, and becomes obsessed with the mystery surrounding her fluctuating age and random disappearances throughout her timeline, supposedly travelling with a man called the Doctor. One evening, Amelia receives a text message from a dead man with the signature SH, and finds herself wandering to the very same place where she had first met him.

“When you cry a piece of my heart dies
Knowing that I may have been the cause
If you were to leave
Fulfill someone else’s dreams
I think I might totally be lost”

~ The Girl - City & Colour

au meme: pondlock as (a genderswapped) romy

When You Wake Up: Amelia Pond and Sherlock Holmes Part 12 - Silence


It was 10 o’clock in the morning, the day after Christmas, 2014 at 221B Baker Street. There was one thing that seemed…off about the flat. A girl was asleep on the sofa, with Sherlock’s coat covering her like a blanket (given that he had mistakenly burned the other blankets with acida week prior) And another thing was different, or, rare, for want of a better word, given the season.

Mycroft Holmes was there.

Sherlock had refused when John told him to “get some sleep” and that he would watch over Amy while Sherlock slept. Sherlock didn’t sleep, so, naturally, he denied the offer. John simply shook his head and trotted off to his own room, leaving Sherlock sitting in his chair, watching over the sleeping figure that he’d been in love with for many years.

He sat there for roughly an hour (from 9 to 10) before Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs.

“Sherlock, your doorbell… Really, you should get it-” the older woman reached the doorway, her gaze going to Amy on the sofa. “Oh.. I’ll just… I leave you be, Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson but down on her bottom lip, trying to surpress her smile.

Just Mrs. Hudson’s presence bothered Sherlock, though not much. Mrs. Hudson was quiet point-blank, and she had lowered her voice to a whisper when she caught sight of Amy sleeping. Then, there was Mycroft. Sherlock wanted silence, and sure as hell, Mycroft was most likely not going to be silent.

When his elder brother walked through the door, he had taken no visible notice of Amy. Sherlock immediately stood and pointed to the door, speaking in a hushed voice.

“Out.” He whispered simply.

Mycroft was bemused. “I do not think so.”

Sherlock grumbled something angrily, sitting back down. “What is it?”

“A case.”

“Not interested.”

“An important case, Sherlock.”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing? You haven’t a case, Sherlock. And it is rare that I offer you one.”

Sherlock clenched his fists, looking over at Amy, still asleep. He nudged his head in her direction. “I’m busy, Mycroft.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, then turned in the direction that Sherlock was motioning towards. “Ah.” He said simply, still not bothering to lower his voice.

Sherlock only nodded.

“Miss… Pond, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes.” Sherlock grumbled, knowing all that Mycroft was about to say.

“The Miss Pond you had sulked over, though persistantly believed she was not sane at times?”

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, though stopped as Amy slowly sat up.

“Oh, thanks for that, Mycroft…” She mumbled, clearing her throat.

“Well, it is the truth, Miss Pond.” Mycroft said, barely audible.

“Mycroft.” Sherlock stood again, pointing to the door once more. “Leave.”

Mycroft gave him an odd glance, sighed then turned on his heel, simply saying that he would be in contact.

“You know,” Amy started, leaning against the back of the couch. “I’ve never liked your brother.”

Sherlock smiled, actual, proper smiling. “Nor have I. How are you?”

Amy shrugged. “Better than before..” She sighed. “Please stop telling me to sleep. I’ve slept enough for the rest of the month.” She paused. “Speaking of, what month is it?” She tugged his coat closer against her shoulders.

“December. 2014. The twenty-sixth.” Sherlock replied, sitting down beside her.

Amy frowned, though managed to smile a moment after Sherlock sat beside her. “Well then, merry Christmas, Sherlock.”

They both leaned towards each other, Sherlock kissing Amy lightly on the lips.