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Clara Oswald collapsed in a heap on her sofa. It had been a particularly hard day at the school today, and as it was Friday anyway Clara was looking forward to a relaxing bath, a good cup of tea and a relaxing evening in front of the tele.
But that of course was what happened to normal people.
“Clara!” a very familiar and very Scottish, yet slightly muffled voice, sounded from the cupboard under the stairs, followed by a bump as something hit against the door of the cupboard.
Clara threw her head back and rose with a sigh. She might have known the Doctor would turn up today of all days. She threw open the door to see the TARDIS crammed in the very tight space inside Clara’s cupboard, the door of the marvellous time machine slightly ajar and obviously stuck against the door of the cupboard.
That door was then thrust open suddenly forcing Clara to take a hurried step back to reveal a very grumpy looking Doctor holding his sonic.
“There you are!” the Doctor began exasperatedly, “I’ve been calling you for the past 10 minutes, I thought you might be at work or something, but you look terrible. Are you ill?”
Clara closed her eyes at this reigning in her temper, “No Doctor I was at work, but it’s been a hard day and I’m tired.”
“Ah well,” the Doctor said breezing past her, “if you’re going to go into work looking like that you’re just asking for it, I mean you look like you just stumbled out of bed after a terrible wasting disease, wait,” the Doctor looked suddenly concerned threw up his sonic screwdriver alarmingly close to her face and started scanning barely pausing for breath, “perhaps you’ve been infected by the Nas Garos virus which causes you to go pasty and sweaty, or maybe it’s the Bulge beetle of Kylar IV which causes you face and eyes to swell, yes that explains a lot actually or maybe its th-
“Doctor!” Clara snapped, slapping away the screwdriver from her face, “What are you doing in my house?”
“Is this your house?” the doctor said looking around the cupboard, “A bit small isn’t it?”
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“It is a cupboard Doctor, a cupboard in my house, I don’t live in my cupboard.” Clara’s voice was beginning to strain, as was her already frayed temper.
“Are you sure?” The Doctor inquired
Clara held her hands up, like she weas trying to stop herself from strangling the gangly old Scotsman from Gallifrey, “Doctor tell me what you want before I do something violent.”
The Doctor drew back, hands held up defensively, “Ok, ok calm down. Gee, you better watch that temper of yours Clara or you’ll exhaust yourself” he said, sounding like a parent to small child.
“I am. Exhausted. Doctor.”
The Doctor pointed at her a smug smile on his face, “Told you so.”
Clara sighed once again, regaining control. “What do you want Doctor?” she asked.
“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to do a thing, but I’m starting to think I may have picked a bad moment.” The Doctor replied
“Perceptive of you.” Clara said sarcastically, though to be fair, it was actually fairly perceptive by the Doctors standards.
The Doctor shrugged his shoulders modestly “I have a gift.”
Clara snorted, “yeah, that’s true.”
“Great!” the Doctor said perking up again, “now that we have that out of the way shall we go?” He pushed past her again, grabbing onto her hand as her dragged her into the TARDIS. “Come on, comeon comeon comeon.”
“Wait!” Clara started, annoyed at his presumption, “I haven’t said I was coming yet.”
“Of course, you did,” the Doctor said as he walked up to the central console flick switches and turning dials, “you stopped being angry, which means you’re coming.”
Clara crossed her arms at that but cut herself off from a retort, realising that she did actually want to go. A trip with the Doctor often invigorated her and was never to be missed. Plus, it was the weekend so she could relax when she got back.”
“Ok,” she said, “but only if you bring me back to right here right now when we’re done.”
The Doctor grinned, “Yes boss, I am renowned across the Cosmos for my pinpoint accuracy.”
“Oh yeah?”, Clara said, a smile starting to creep across her face as she closed the door and made her way up to the Doctors side, “then why are you in my cupboard?”
“That was a purely tactical move,” he said, “I was worried I might disturb you, so I decided to enter inconspicuously.”
Clara grinned, all previous frustration evaporated in the thrill of adventure that always overcame her before a trip with the Doctor, “Very thoughtful.”
The Doctor gave another modest shrug, “Ah well, I know how unpredictable you humans can be, who knows what state you could have come home in.”
Clara laughed, as she grabbed hold of the ‘handbrake’ as the Doctor called it, “This coming from a man who changes his body and drops his spaceship in other people’s houses?”
The Doctor stopped and stared from the corner of his eye for a moment as he considered that. “That’s a fair point I suppose.”
“yeah” Clara chuckled.
He looked back to her. “Ready?” he asked.
“Always” Clara replied, and yanked down on the lever, and they were off.
The TARDIS bumped and jolted its way through the Time Vortex wheezing, groaning, and moaning as normal, while Clara and the Doctor clung to the handrails around the central console. Finally, they came to a jolting stop. Clara always felt that the final jolt was done on purpose by the TARDIS to try and throw her, the two had never gotten on very well, and Clara had never been able to figure out why.
The Doctor trotted over to the door of the TARDIS and turned to Clara, the same twinkle in his eye that there was every time they landed somewhere new. Or at least new for Clara. She often wondered if there was anything the Doctor hadn’t seen in his centuries in the TARDIS, but he still seemed to enjoy it, so Clara never bothered to ask. Grinning from ear to ear, Clara moved to join the Doctor by the door.
With a flourish the Doctor threw open the doors and they peered out. All around them, various humans stood staring at this box that had just materialized in their midst. Several had weapons that were unmistakably gun-looking to Clara's eyes. And they were pointed at Clara and the Doctor.
About the Creator
Tomos Jackson
Stories have always been a source of inspiration. I aim to reproduce that in my own writing. Developing ideas of one's potential by reading it in the lives of others can be a powerful force to encourage bettering ourselves in the real world
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