DW-Sherlock Crossover pt4

   "How did you know we were coming?" the Doctor asked, confused. "I never booked any rooms."
   "Why honey, they've been booked for months! Ever since September 28, 2010!" The old woman smiled. "Did you know you were going to be here a very long time ago for the convention?"
   "No...?"
   "What convention?" Amy asked.
   "Well, you must be the Doctor, and you're Amy! I've seen your picture in the paper!" The lady pulled out a newspaper highlighting Comic-Con 2011, which was being held in Tulsa. "See!" She pointed to a publicity shot with the Doctor, Amy, and the TARDIS over a blue background.
   "Let me see that." Sherlock grabbed the newspaper from Rory and opened it. "Is this today's paper?"
   "Why, it sure is. And you must be Sherlock Holmes! I just love your TV show." The woman smiled. "Are you with them?"
   "Yes. WE are," John said, feeling ignored.
   "We're all in one group," Rory chimed in. "ALL five of us." 
   "Well, go on up." The woman handed the Doctor the room keys. "Have a good night, kids!"
   The group of five went to the elevator, where they were taken up the the fourth floor, where their rooms were located. 
   "Well, here we are. I guess we're staying here tonight," the Doctor shrugged and unlocked the doors.
   The two rooms were nearly identical- both a terrible shade of green, with a king-sized bed, a writing desk and chair set, and an attached bathroom. The only difference between the two was that 235 had a pull-out couch in it.
   "The rooms are connected," said John, peering though the doorway in 234 into the other room. "That's odd, I mean usually even numbered-rooms are on one side, and odd on the other." 
   "But that's nice of them to give us two rooms next to each other, I guess," said Amy. "It'll keep the small amount of heat they have flowing."
   "I call this bed, and I'm not sharing!" The Doctor ran into the first room and flopped himself down onto the king-sized four poster bed. "And look!" The Doctor grew excited. "They've left us all pajamas!" He grabbed one of the stacks of pajamas and held up the pants to his waist. "Looks like they'll fit."
   "Well, where are we all supposed to sleep?" Rory said. "I'm not sleeping on the floor, it's too cold in here."
   "You can sleep on the sofa bed!" The Doctor motioned to the pull-out couch across from the bed. "You can share with someone, and then the remaining two can have the four-poster in the next room."
   John sighed. "I guess I'll share with Rory."
   "Which leaves Miss Pond and myself in the last bed," said Sherlock.
  "Hold on! Who said ANYTHING about us sharing a bed?!" Amy started. "Is there a fold-out in there, too?"
   "Nope. It's either you share, or one of you sleeps on the floor," John said. "But you two can figure that out yourselves."
   "We ought to get to sleep," the Doctor said. "Change into your pajamas and go to bed. See you in the morning, Pond, Sherlock."
   Amy and Sherlock put their coats on the desk in their room. Amy began to change out of her clothes, but became self-conscious and asked Sherlock to turn round. He obliged.
   "You can change in front of me, you know," Sherlock said dryly, facing away from Amy. "I'm not an easily embarassed person."
   "Well, perhaps I'M easily embarassed!" Amy tried to unbutton her dress, but she couldn't reach around to her back. Noticing that it was taking her too long, Sherlock walked up behind her and began undoing her buttons. Startling Amy, he felt her tense beneath him.
   "I don't think you're easily embarassed, Miss Pond," he said, handing her a set of pajamas. "I think you're just nervous about me. I'm not sure why, but I'm not going to try and come on to you, so quit worrying."
   Amy blushed, and quickly changed into her pajamas. Soon afterwards, she went into the bathroom to wash off her makeup and brush her teeth.
   The bathroo, was- to put it in a word, odd. It seemed all too...perfect. The toothpastes and toothbrushes laid out perfectly straight next to the sinks, the neatly stacked towels, the organized soaps- it seemed out-of-place in the shady motel. Amy shrugged to herself and finished cleaning herself up. 
   When she went back into the bedroom, she found Sherlock sitting in the bed, listening to his iPod and reading the newspaper. "I'm happy to see you came back, Miss Pond," he said, without looking up. "I thought you might have gone and slept in the bathtub."
   "Out. You're sleeping on the floor. Get out of the bed." Amy clambered onto the end of the bed and sat down. "I TOLD you to get out."
   He chuckled quietly. "Oh, no I'm not."
   "YES, you ARE."
   He pulled off his earphones. "I'm not, I got ready for bed long before you did. I established where I am sleeping. You are welcome to join me in bed, or you can sleep on the floor. I've heard it's very good for the back."
   "Well, why don't YOU try it then?"
   "Because I don't WANT to," Sherlock said simply, and smiled. 
   "I DESERVE to have the bed to myself."
   "And why is that?"
   "I don't find it necessary to share a bed with a- a- mad egomaniac who's trying to come on to me!"
   "I'm not egomanic, I am simply a highly functioning sociopath. And I explained it to you once, I'm not trying to come on to you. I just offered you a place to sleep that so happens to be in a bed. With me."
   Amy had to think of another argument. "Women lose body heat faster than men. I don't want to freeze to death on the floor tonight."
   "False. Women have more fat than men. Keeps heat in. Like a whale's blubber. Think of Japanese pearl divers. They were all women."
   "Oh, so you're comparing women to whales now, are you?"
   Sherlock laughed. "Miss Pond, arguing with me will get you nowhere. If I were you, I would just get into bed and be done with it."
   "FINE." Amy crawled to the other end of the bed and slid under the covers next to Sherlock. "Why is it so bloody cold in the first place?"
   "The heating's off," he said, going back to his paper and putting on his earphones.
   "Of course it is," Amy muttered.
   Meanwhile, the Doctor, Rory, and John, who couldn't sleep, were entertaining themselves by playing Monopoly, huddled together on the bed to keep warm.
   "Doctor, I need two hundred dollars, I just passed GO again," John said.
   "Sorry, sorry!" The Doctor looked for the little slips of paper in the box. "I've never played before, it's hard!"
   "You said you had!" Rory said. "Why on earth did you want to be banker, then?!"
   "It LOOKED FUN!"
   Amy had gotten up and found her own iPod in her handbag. Scrolling through her songs, she picked one, put in her earbuds, and climbed into bed, crossing her arms to keep warm and to keep from shivering.
   "What are you listening to?" Sherlock asked, putting away his paper.
   "Nothing you would know," Amy said. "At least, I doubt it."
   "Oh, I know a lot of music. Go ahead."
   "Do you know who Nick Cave is?"
   Sherlock nodded. "Ah. You're a fan of the Bad Seeds, then. I am partial to 'Carry Me.' Or 'O Children.'"
   "How did you first hear of him? The Harry Potter movie, yeah?"
   "No, I actually liked him before that film came out," he said, pulling off his earphones. "Very hipster-y. But now we need to go to sleep."
   Amy turned off her iPod, put it on the bedside table and switched off the light. Sherlock did the same. The pair lay in the bed silently, Sherlock on his back, Amy on her side facing away from him.
   Amy was shivering. No, shivering was an understatement. She absolutely shook with cold. She did her best to keep from moving too much, curling up into a ball on her side.
   After about a half hour of this, Sherlock spoke. "You know, if you move in closer to me, it'll keep both of us a lot warmer." Amy moved about two inches to her right, a bit closer.
   "That won't do you any good. Come on, I won't bite you." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close. She tensed, shaking even more now.
   "Miss Pond, I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered into her ear. "It's fine. Just relax."
   And Amy relaxed, letting her body uncurl. "See? You're okay now." She lay, shaking a lot less, warm in Sherlock's embrace.
   "May I call you Amy?" he asked suddenly. "We ARE sleeping less than a half-inch away from each other, and my arms are wrapped around you. That implies a level of intimacy, wouldn't you think?"
   Amy laughed. "I was going to see how long it would take you to call me Amy. And yes, you can. I'm going to call you Sherlock, just so you know." She turned her head round so she could look at him. "That alright?"
   "Yes. That's perfectly fine."