When I saw the last Sherlock episode, all I could think of was The God Complex.

The new doctor was odd. Not chewing-the-grass-odd or fighting-invisible-monsters-odd, or Rory would suspect the Doctor had regenerated and lost his memory. No, Dr. Watson was a quiet, sadder man, a veteran of Afghanistan who preferred hiding in the diagnostic lab to treating patients. Even though Watson had only lived in Leadsworth for two months, Rory couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen the man before.

"Nurse Williams, where's Hampton's blood sample?" Watson snapped.

"In the fridge, right at eye level."

"Sorry, sorry." Watson rubbed his forehead. "I didn't mean to be rude. I've seen you around here before, haven't I? Sorry, I'm not good with faces."

"Before you say anything else, you should know that I'm married. Quite happily, actually. To a woman. My wife, Amy." Rory added, just to make himself clear.

"Why do people always assume I'm gay?" Watson mumbled ."And even if I was, that was nowhere near a pickup line."

'Sorry." Rory handed Watson the sample. "Yes, you've probably seen me around before, I do work here, after all. This isn't my normal department though—I'm just filling in."

"Where do you normally work?"

"Obstetrics, but I'm thinking of putting in a transfer request. My wife had pregnancy…complications recently. Not exactly pleasant associations." At least, that was the abbreviated version he had settled on as an explanation.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's not your fault. Wasn't exactly the sort of thing one could have prepared for anyway." Rory continued preparing slides. "Do you have any family?"

"A sister, but she's busy with her own problems." A hint of resentment favored the words. "She's only called once since—since it happened. Asked if it was true and hung up when I couldn't answer."

"If what was true?"

"Never mind. It's a long story, you wouldn't have the time."

"You might just be surprised." Rory grinned. "I'd have to ask my wife, but I'm sure we could have you over for supper sometime."

"Just being kind to a lonely old doctor, hm?"

"Won't be the first time."

"So, why'd you come to Leadsworth?" Amy passed John the Caesar salad.

"I just wanted to get away…too many memories in the city. Friend of mine committed suicide a few months back, and I couldn't stand it…and the media got a hold of it too, it was an absolute mess. It wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't dragged his name through the mud. The great Sherlock Holmes, nothing more than a fraud!"

"I remember reading about that in the papers." Rory commented. "We'd just gotten back from—"

"A trip—" Amy corrected. "I wasn't feeling quite myself at the time, but stop me if I get something wrong. Starting with three break-ins at the same time, some people on the force got the idea that their consulting genius wasn't on the straight and narrow. Holmes took a hostage, resisted arrest, shot the hostage and committed suicide after confessing he was all a fraud."

"Mostly right. If you believe the papers."

"I never do."

"Well, you'd be the first." Watson sighed. "I was the hostage."

"You look pretty good for dead." Rory took a bit of French bread. "Trust me, I should know."

"It wasn't that simple, not at all. I was his hostage for a while, but not there. Not at the building. He just stood there, talking to me. Told me he wasn't as clever as he claimed. Told me he was just a fraud. Then he jumped. But…" Watson quaffed his glass. "Nothing could convince me he was lying. Said he wasn't a hero, but he'd saved my life more than once. Someone must have forced him."

Rory glanced down at his spaghetti. "He have enemies?"

"All good men have enemies." Amy answered. "For a while, mine was a woman with a neurotic Jack Russell. "

"What happened?"

"Found some bigger ones," her jaw hardened. "From what I've heard, your friend wasn't one to back down easily. Didn't want to give anyone something to hold over his head. But it didn't work."

"Sounds like you knew him."

"I knew someone like him. " Amy stared at Rory.

He raised an eyebrow.

Amy narrowed her eyes and nodded.

"If you think so," Rory sighed.

"Dr. Watson, we've seen things that you wouldn't believe. Things that even your brilliant friend might find impossible. Things we believe even though logic says better. And I think you've seen some of those things too." Amy's red hair glowed in the florescent light. "But you have to promise you won't tell."

John felt like he was wavering on the edge of a very steep cliff. "I promise."

"Why don't we move to the living room," Rory suggests. "This could take a very long time."

"He said he wasn't a hero. Just a madman in a box. And hearing those words hurt. Since I was seven, I always thought he''d come back and make everything better. He'd make everything better, I always thought so, even if I didn't say so." Amy swallowed.

Rory hugged her.

"And...well...maybe there wasn't a minotaur standing in the doorway, but maybe it was something like that. Something where the only way to save you was to break you into pieces."

John shook his head. "You think I haven't thought of that? Do you honestly think that makes things better? That he'd rather have me hate him?"

Amy shook her head. "That wasn't what I saw in the Doctor. He wanted to save me, but he was also trying to save himself. Whatever happened, he wanted to know I was safe. He thought he was being unselfish. What he was being," she allowed herself to smile. "was a stupid bloody idiot."

"Sounds like an egotistical sociopath all over. "

"Oh, that's not the worst of it. My daughter's a pyscopath, did I mention?"