“My name is Amy Pond. When I was seven, I had a friend called Sherlock Holmes. Once he told me he borrowed a box that could travel in time and space. He said he was going to take me with him. He didn’t. I haven’t seen him ever since.” to Ragna
The thing Sherlock Holmes hated the most in life was dullness. His impressive, brilliant, extraordinary mind has always needed something to keep away from stagnation. Therefore, his favorite thing about Amelia Pond was the fact that she was never boring. She kept him intrigued, busy, aching to solve the puzzle in the core of her being. Amy was smart. Not as much as the consulting detective, of course, because nobody else could be that clever. She was, however, witty and sharp and she knew a lot because she had lived a lot, even being so young. She was a great mess of fiery hair, bare long legs, colorful clothes and that fascinating, expressive, beautiful face. He knew everything about her features, from the way her eyes sparkled with excitement when they were in a chase to the way her lips pursed in a stubborn pout when Sherlock was being a git. She knew how to wait for him when he wouldn’t move, eat or sleep for three days and she also knew the way he liked his coffee and exactly how to hug him and pat his hair when he was tired and sore after a long case. (It took such a long time for him to accept the fact that he digged a lot that sort of pedestrial and silly affection.) He knew that she would be with him whenever he needed her, and he needed her a rather lot. As a flatmate, a friend, a companion, an assistant, a partner. Amy Pond was the woman who mattered, and stayed, and loved him when he thought nobody could.
This is a dull gift for Júlia, just because I love her so much. Happy birthday, darling!
Our Day Will Come, a fanmix for those who fancy crossovers and bits of heartbreak. You can download it here; please like/reblog this post if you do.