A/N: Contains spoilers for Doomsday and The Runaway Bride. Set after The Runaway Bride, but before Smith and Jones, so no Rose or Martha. I do not own Dr Who and all mistakes are mine. Enjoy, and please review.

----------

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and breathed in the familiar scent of London air. He ran a hand through his thick brown hair and looked around. He was at the edge of the city, modern day London 2007.

He sighed. The last time he was in London was with Donna, the bride that had mysteriously appeared in the TARDIS. He helped her to get home; almost getting both of them killed in the process. He was disappointed that she didn't want to stick around, she'd grown on him. Somehow, being in London with out Rose felt odd. He felt like he didn't belong, like he was out of place. He remembered the last words she'd said to him. She had told him that she loved him. He loved her too. Why do people always wait to say how they really feel when it's already too late? He had plenty of chances to tell her, but he was afraid of what she might say. Or what she might not. A tear fell down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away and went to look around.

The area he found himself in was pretty dull to say the least. It was typical London. Gum on the floor, litter, a few shops on the corner and cigarette butts on the ground. He walked along the streets, kicking a can as he went. He walked around the street for a bit, watching people go through their daily routines of buy food or walking the dog or taking their kids to the park. He walked round a corner and stopped when he saw a large warehouse in front of him. Well, he saw the top of a warehouse; large wooden boards had blocked off the rest. Judging by the amount of graffiti on them, they had been there a while.

"Excuse me, do you know what's going on there?" he asked a passer by.

The woman shook her head. "No, no one does. It's been like that for years."

The Doctor thanked her and carried on walking. Like the Doctor, the warehouse looked out of place. It was old while the rest of the city was new. It was dull while the rest of the city was alive. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was giving off a sort of vibe, like something was wrong. The Doctor didn't like it.

He followed the wooden boards until he came to door with a padlock on it. There was a sign that read, 'Gone to lunch'. It was clear the sign had been there a while and the warehouse looked abandoned.

He debated whether or not to look around. It didn't take long. He slipped his sonic screwdriver out of his coat pocket and activated it against the padlock. Looking around to make sure he wasn't being followed, he opened the door.

The warehouse was indeed abandoned. It looked like it had been for quite sometime. The place was covered in dust and smelt of rotting corpse. The Doctor soon found out why. There were dead, rotting bodies of the men who used to work here all piled up on top of each other in a corner.

The Doctor put a hand over his nose and knelt down examine them. The cause of death was obvious – they'd been stabbed, repeatedly.

Seven innocent men killed for no reason, it sickened him. "I'm sorry," he muttered to the corpses.

A crashing sound behind him made him jump. He span around and scanned the area. There was no one there, but the place was abandoned, they're had to someone making that noise. He looked around and noticed that the warehouse was being converted into what looked like an office. It was almost complete.

Another crashing sound turned his attention to the other side of the building. "What's that?" he wondered out loud.

He walked over to the back of the warehouse and ducked behind some crates. He heard a group of people talking in a foreign language and was thankful that the TARDIS was able to translate it into English.

"Have we received new orders?" one of them asked.

"Are we to return home?" asked another.

"Negative," said a third. "Our orders stand. We must find what we came for and eliminate the threat."

The Doctor had a terrible feeling that they were talking about him. They always were. He stuck his head over the crates and gasped when he saw the scene in front of him.

Four creatures were standing in a circle. They were dressed in long black cloaks with hoods. Their faces were black, eyes full of rage and hatred. The Doctor studied them, watching the way they moved and spoke, looking for any obvious weakness.

"And what might you be?" he asked himself.

Watching where he put his feet, he carefully moved closer to them. The Doctor cursed violently when his foot hit a large box and it fell, crashing to the floor.

The creatures' heads all turned to look at him crouching on the floor.

"Target located," said one of them, his voice thick and emotionless.

"Kill him," said the other.

Cursing again, the Doctor pulled himself to his feet and ran in the opposite direction as fast as his feet would carry him. He risked a glance behind him and saw them gaining on him. They were fast.

One of them jumped in the air and flipped over him and landed in front of him. He took a sharp left and headed inside the incomplete office. It was dark and gloomy and smelt of new carpet.

He ran forward and tried to open one of the doors. A quick zap of the sonic screwdriver and it opened. The room was light, having had the windows installed, although the glass didn't look very thick.

The delay in opening the door had caused the creature to become mere meters away from him. He tried to get away, but it reached out and grabbed his leg, tripping him up. He rolled over and kicked it in the face and scurried backwards against the wall. But it was too late. The other things had caught up and were all slowly advancing towards him.

----------

TBC

So, what do you, should I continue?