I've wanted to do this for ages, and now I'm so excited that I finally can. Anyway, hope you enjoy, more on the way soon :)


Rose was late. She hurried into the library, stopping short when she realised that there was no-one there yet before throwing her bag down on a desk and plonking herself on the chair behind it.

No-one should have to do detention on a Saturday. 8:00am until 5:00pm was just too long to be sat in school – after school detentions were bad enough. Rose was certain that she didn't deserve a detention anyway – all she had done was go home in her free period. How was she to know that yesterday was the only day in the entire year that they were going to check attendance in the afternoon?

The door swung open and Jack Harkness sauntered in. Rose watched him as he entered the room, looking around for a teacher before winking at her and settling at the next desk but one on her row. He was one of those sporty guys, Jack Harkness. Actually, Rose corrected herself, he was one of those flirty guys. She considered herself lucky she had only got a wink from him so far, by now he would normally have tried out his signature line ("Hi, Jack Harkness, and who are you?" He was the only boy in the school that could pick up girls or guys using his own name as a pick-up line.)

Rose shifted in her seat a little, hoping the teacher would just arrive, check them in and then leave so she could maybe read a book or get some sleep. She was contemplating her nails when she heard the door creak and looked up to see Martha Jones standing in the doorway, looking nervous. Rose was certain that Martha had come to the wrong room – Martha Jones was known for being hardworking, clever and rule abiding, the idea that she had gotten a dreaded Saturday detention was utterly unthinkable. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, she made her way across the room and slid into a seat, placing a pile of books neatly on the table in front of her. Martha was going to medical school to become a doctor and, if the stack of medical books on the table was anything to go by, nothing was going to be able to stand in her way.

Martha opened the book on top of the pile and began to read, studiously ignoring Jack's gaze and Rose's curious looks. What could Martha have possibly done to be put in here for the day? The sound of the door opening drew Rose's attention yet again, and she looked around to see a skinny boy in a long brown coat strolling into the room. Of course, who else would be in a Saturday detention? None other than John Smith.

John Smith was famous throughout the school, his name known to everyone from the tiny Year Sevens to the Year Thirteens who were getting ready for university. Commonly known as "the Doctor" – the rumour was that he had saved a teacher's life by giving CPR when he was in primary school, and whether it was true or not the name had stuck with him – John Smith had a reputation as the worst troublemaker to ever come through the school. He was sarcastic, rude and yet, somehow, charming, making it impossible for teachers not to warm to him, despite his continuing absence from lessons and his blatant disregard for any rules.

The problem was that he was extremely clever, sailing through all of his classes and gaining top marks without even trying, doing no work and still managing to be the most intelligent boy in the school by a long way. Even without the complaints from his subject teachers, his escapades in and around the school were enough to keep him in either the head teacher's office or the detention room for the majority of his free time.

Rose ran through the list of rumours that surrounded him in her head, wondering if any of them were actually true. The best one was the story of how he had somehow managed to steal a phone box from the front of the school, getting it home and putting it in pride of place in his front garden before anyone realised it had gone missing. His reply when asked about why he stole it – "I didn't steal the phone box, the phone box stole me" – had passed into legend at the school, and the story would probably still linger long after John Smith had walked the halls for the last time.

He sauntered across the room, hands in the pockets of his suit trousers underneath his long coat. Sixth form boys were supposed to wear suits, but Rose was certain that the Doctor's version of suitable school attire wasn't exactly what the administration had in mind. He mostly wore the brown pinstripes he was wearing now – he must have about 10 of them all lined up in his wardrobe at home – but always with a pair of converse. He was taking off his coat, throwing it over one of the desks and plonking himself down in a chair in the row in front of Rose's. He never seemed to go anywhere without that coat. Rose stopped that line of thinking for a moment – since when had she paid so much attention to the exploits and clothing choices of John Smith? She supposed it must be what the boredom of a day in detention does to a person, and put it to the back of her mind.

The door slammed open and another figure appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a thick coat with the hood pulled up so Rose was sure the person inside it could not hear a word that was being said. The face inside the hood was surrounded by ginger hair, with eyes that were glaring mutinously at each of them as the girl they belonged to stomped across the room to the back table. She slammed down her bag on the chair next to her, sat down with a thump and flopped forward onto the desk, hood falling down and obscuring her entire head. She did not move.

Rose frowned, certain she had seen the girl before. Donna, was that her name? Donna... Noble, that was it. She was not known for being exceptionally brainy or athletic, but she didn't half have a mouth on her, if Rose remembered correctly.

Jack caught Rose's eye and grinned. Clearly he thought Donna's behaviour amusing, though Rose couldn't seem to help noticing that the Doctor (she couldn't help calling him by his much used nickname) was looking over at Donna curiously, twisting all the way around in his chair in order to look at her. He wasn't staring rudely – it was more like he was trying to figure her out.

"It looks like you're all here then, and what a fabulous day for a detention." Rose rolled her eyes and Mr Saxon strolled into the room. He was the last teacher she would have chosen to be in charge of detention - head of Maths, a young and fairly attractive teacher who managed at the same time to be smug, arrogant and utterly repellent, no matter his looks. He kicked the Doctor's legs off of the desk, smiling infuriatingly at the look of contempt he got from the Doctor. They were arch-enemies – well, as close to arch-enemies as two people could get outside of a superhero film. Being a teacher, Saxon could not be openly hostile towards the Doctor, but his hatred of him was well known by both staff and pupils alike.

"Well, my young troublemakers, I'd better lay down the ground rules. I will be in my office around the corner, any noise or misbehaviour will result in more detentions. You will not speak. You will not move from these seats. As a new addition to today's detention, you will be required to write a thousand word essay detailing who you think you are." He began to put lined paper and pencils down in front of each student, seemingly not bothered about the fact that Donna was still ignoring everything going on around her. "And when I say essay, I mean essay. I do not mean the same word repeated a thousand times. Refusal to write the essay and hand it in at the end of the day will result in more detentions. Am I clear, Mr Smith?"

He looked down at the Doctor, clearly enjoying asserting his authority over the disruptive pupil. The Doctor did not look up, answering – "crystal." – as he balanced the pencil that Saxon had put on his desk on one finger. He seemed to be trying to avoid an argument – maybe it was too early in the morning for that, Rose was certain there would be sparks flying at some point in the Doctor and Saxon had to be in the same room as each other for more than 2 minutes.

Saxon left, the door swinging shut behind him, and Rose put her head in her hands. Her chair was uncomfortable, the clock was ticking too loudly, she hated writing essays, and the Doctor had started humming Ian Dury and the Blockheads with no signs that he would be stopping any time soon. Perfect.