Donna Noble frowned at her PC and wondered what to do next. It was late. She was the only one left awake in the house.

She had checked her emails – zilch.

She had surfed a few soap sites – nothing she didn't already know.

Ah, that's it! That new thing...the one that's been all over the news. The one where you can walk up and down streets...the one with all the fuss about privacy.

This last consideration gave her but a moment's pause. She was only human after all!

She found the site in a few seconds and was soon happily clicking her way down Oxford Street, through Soho, past Buck House and so on.

She typed in her own address and there it was! Click. She was outside her house and giving it the old three-hundred and sixty degrees!

When the view centred on her house again she frowned. That bloke. The one who seemed to be waiving. She didn't remember him before.

Shrugging she clicked the view further up the road, towards the shops. She paused. There he was again, or at least someone like him. Waiving across the road.

She zoomed in but his face was blurred, pixellated. Like all the other pedestrians.

She clicked further on once more. Now this was getting spooky. He was there again. It had to be him. The same build, mop of hair and long, brown coat. This time he wasn't waiving. He appeared to be pointing back down the road – the way she had come.

Bemused, Donna clicked back towards her house. He was there again. He wasn't waving as he had been before. He was pointing.

The next click took her outside her house. The man in the brown coat was standing outside. But not waiving. He seemed to be holding up a placard of some kind to his chest.

She zoomed in. It was fuzzy but she could just make it out:

'DONNA. CHECK UNDER THE STAIRS. NOW!'

Her hand went to her mouth. What the hell...?

Then she smelled it. A vague acrid smell. The smell of burning plastic.

She darted downstairs. The smell got stronger. She threw open the cupboard door. There was a small flame licking at the wiring, underneath the electricity meter. Tiny gobs of molten plastic were dribbling onto the floor.

In a flash Donna threw the switch on the fusebox to turn off the power. She fumbled into the kitchen and came back with a couple of tea-towels. After a couple of hairy moments she beat out the flames.

She shuddered as the implication hit her. If she had gone to sleep then the flames would have reached the coats hanging up in the cupboard. The whole house would have gone up. They would have known nothing about it...

The following evening, after the electrician had completed repairs and given her mother a quote for re-wiring the whole house, Donna darted to her room and booted up her PC impatiently.

She pulled up the mapping site and typed in her address.

Yep – there he was. He was standing outside her house. Behind him was some sort of blue cupboard with a sloping roof. Not the kind of thing you see out on the street every day.

She zoomed in. His face was still a blur but he was clearly giving her the 'thumbs up' sign.

Weirder and weirder!

She rotated the image to see if the man was signalling across the road but there was nobody else.

When the image returned to her house the man and the box had vanished...