So…my mind is blown. Just a bit. So, in an effort to try and sort out all my thoughts, and because I want to write some happy!Doctor for once, I'm just going to jot down this oneshot. I hope enjoy it!
Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock
Remember the Impossible Girl
They were staring after him as if he'd gone mad. Well, that wasn't unusual. As they should, since he was quite mad. The Doctor had never felt madder.
And that was really very extremely good.
So maybe he shouldn't have told them to stay right there, and completely still. But he was sure they could figure it out by themselves. Vastra was a rather intuitive Silurian, and Jenny Flint was sharp as a tack as well. They'd leave, if only because they'd finally grown fed up with him. He wouldn't blame them- not like he'd have wanted to put up with himself all this time.
But that wasn't important now, because it was then, and this was happening now. Here he was, jumping higher than he could remember for quite some time, so that he caught hold of the fifth, perhaps the sixth, rung of the ladder, not even waiting for it to roll down all the way before beginning to climb.
And oh, did the Doctor run up those stairs, two, three at a time, in great leaps and bounds round and round the dizzying coil until at last, he reached the very top, and broke even with his cloud. A temporary parking place until after the funeral, to be sure, because he'd promised her no more cloud.
"Ah-ha!" He laughed in absolute exuberance, not even feeling winded. "There you are: my TARDIS, you big, beautiful—smaller on the outside you!" He could feel the ship vibrate in contentment and even enthusiasm under his arms as he wrapped them around the box as far as they could go. "Oh, thank you, Old Girl- always so patient with me. And the extra key, no less!"
The Doctor pulled back abruptly, searching his pockets. "Speaking of which, where did I put my- I don't think I dropped it unless it fell out while I was being half-strangled earlier. I mean, I don't need it, but it'd be nice to- haven't really been paying attention much with there not being much of anywhere to go, and—oh dear, just look at you!"
He stopped, truly stopped, to take in the state of her. His beloved TARDIS, looking rundown and tarnished. The Doctor tutted a bit.
"Now, that just won't do." She answered with a low hum in agreement. "Oh, I am sorry, Old Girl- you're not too cross with me, are you?" There was no reply, and so he leaned in, fishing the elusive key out of his pocket with one hand while gently stroking the faded-blue wood with the other. "Tell you what…a nice, brand new paint job, that's what you need. You'll be looking your Sexy self again in no time." She very nearly purred, and he grinned.
"But first—we've got a dead, not dead, dead again, and most certainly not dead girl to find! Let's see what we've got, eh?" And when he pushed open the door to find her lights shining brightly once again, he knew he wouldn't be disappointed.
"So!" He practically spun over to the monitor, whipping the top hat from his head to let it sail across the room. "Clara- Oswin- Oswald! Best place to start ought to be the Vortex, since she never turns up in the same time or place." He began pulling levers and slamming buttons, flipping completely unnecessary switches for the simple joy of doing this again. And anyway, he still wasn't that familiar with the new console. He was even less familiar with the new ship as a whole. He had no idea what they had in here, except perhaps the wardrobe.
"A kitchen!" The Doctor exclaimed suddenly, one hand flying up to tangle in his unruly fringe. "We've got to have a kitchen, dear—because Clara's going to make all the soufflés her heart could desire!"
Soufflé Girl…could she really be? Oh, but she had to. Because he had remembered.
"Heart…desire- why is that ringing bells?" He inquired, more rhetorical than anything else he'd said, scratching at his chin a little. "Ah…yes. The, ehm, the kissing. Yes, well, that will have to stop—not that it's started or anything. Just the once, that was all. I'll make that clear right away," he promised his ship, quite aware of the fondness she had for her child, and his wife. "Rule One—no hang on, already got a Rule One…Rule Eight-Hundred and Thirty-Three, then: Clara is not allowed to kiss the Doctor."
He laughed in sheer giddiness for a moment. "I get to make rules again. I get to make rules for Clara! And she's going to break them all, I can already tell!" Perhaps that should have caused him some irritation, but it was time to get to work. The Doctor re-righted his bowtie before coming to stand in front of the monitor.
"Now then, Old Girl, time to find a Junior Entertainment Officer turned barmaid turned governess turned who knows what—but definitely a companion!" And there was her face on the screen, that smart, witty, mysterious face. He couldn't wait to meet her all over again. "Geronimo."
So, typed this in a little over an hour. Just wanted to get my excitement out, especially because I wasn't going to be able to continue writing for my other multi-chapter stories until I did. Expect updates on those within the next day or so. I am really looking forward to learning more about Clara, if you couldn't tell. At any rate, I hope you enjoyed this oneshot, thanks for reading, and please review!