A/N - I'm doing well with writing new chapters to all my stories, but it's still quite the process! But soon some should be up...for now, just have someone new. For now :)

This is set at some point early on in Clara and the Doctor's time together, when he's dropped her off home.

Disclaimer - I do not own Doctor Who or anything in it!

The TARDIS was dead. Well, she wasn't dead, but she was extremely cross. The Doctor had been having a conversation with her about being nicer to Clara and it seemed to have set her off; she landed in the nearest time and place, threw him out the door, and refused to let him back in.

No matter how much he kicked, or yelled, or bargained, or sweet-talked, or used his sonic on her, the doors stayed shut tight. She wouldn't even leave, she just sat there in the run-down alley she'd landed in.

Tease.

"You can't be cross with me forever, you know." He sniffed, tucking his sonic screwdriver back into his jacket. "You'll come off it soon enough. You know what? I think I'll show you that this won't change my mind about Clara! I'm going to have fun here until you decide to let me back in. Ha!" He turned away, walking just a few steps before he was turning right back around and running to the ship, ramming into the door.

This only ended with him on the ground, clutching at his shoulder as if it was broken. It likely wasn't even bruised. "Ow, ow, ow! I'm not apologizing! I'm standing my ground and I...I'll stay here for however long I have to!" He could almost hear her laughing.

It took him a moment to realize that there actually was someone laughing. He turned his head to where the sound was coming from and saw...a skirt. A rather large skirt that had some sort of boning in it to keep it so...poofy-woofy.

"Do you often talk to yourself, sir?" Laughter laced the person's words and put a grumpy look on the Doctor's face as he looked up at them. It was a woman in a deep red dress, her brown curls pinned up in an old-fasioned way that matched her dress, and her blue eyes bright with amusement. She had a basket on one arm with a small piece of fabric over it that hid the contents inside.

"There's nothing wrong with talking to yourself." He grumbled, getting up onto his knees and dusting himself off. "The most interesting people do it."

She didn't seem phased by his grumpy tone. "I am well aware of that, but most people seem to think me mad for it." She offered him a hand which he took, allowing her to help him to his feet.

"Being mad is just as good as talking to yourself." He glanced back at the TARDIS. She must have turned herself invisible if this woman hadn't noticed her yet. The old girl really wasn't going to let him back in until he apologized or she stopped being stubborn, was she? With a sigh, he turned back to the woman. "Would you mind telling me where I am? I'll be stuck here for longer than I'd like."

"You don't know where you are?" She tilted her head. "London, sir."

He seemed to perk up at that information. "London! Good, old London! I can find Clara and she can apologize to the TARDIS!" He straightened his coat and stepped out onto the street, stumbling back in surprise when a man on a horse went by. "—oh, dear. Am I thinking what I think I'm thinking?" He did a quick spin to take in his surroundings before he crouched down, taking some dirt in his fingers and sprinkling it on his tongue.

It was quickly spat back onto the ground where it belonged. "Eighteenth century!" He yelled, hopping back to his feet and swiping at his tongue with his sleeve. "Oh, what is that? It has to be...what? 1782?"

"Ninety-two." The girl stepped up to his side, eyeing him curiously. "It's the year 1792. You really are mad, aren't you?"

"I'm the Doctor." He told her as if it were the perfect explanation. "Of course I'm mad. I'm always mad. Madman with a box..."

Her disbelieving laugh earned her a look from the corner of his eye. "The doctor? There's more than one doctor in London, and I think you could visit one who specializes in heads!"

"Not the doctor, the Doctor." He was frustrated with the TARDIS, frustrated with being stranded in eighteenth century London, and he was starting to get frustrated with her. It wouldn't be long before he was cross. "That's my name! Doctor. I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor isn't a name, it's an occupation! Oh, pleasure to meet you, the Doctor!" She gave him a mocking curtsey. "I'm the Brickmaker!"

"That's ridiculous! Doctor's a name, Brickmaker could never be one! I doubt your name is much better than mine, anyway."

"It's Katherine!"

It was his turn to laugh. "Katherine. Oh, I was right! What sort of a name is Katherine? Doctor is much better."

"How dare you! Katherine is a perfectly nice, normal name. Doctor is something I would expect from a drunkard or a madman like you!"

They just stared at each other after that, both of them breathing heavily and glaring at the other like disliking a name was the ultimate betrayal. Katherine was the first to relax her posture, taking a few deep breaths.

"Doctor is an occupation and a title, not a name. You must have a proper name."

"A proper name? Oh, yeah, yeah! Doctor...Smith." A cocky smile came to his face as he reached into his coat, pulling out his psychic paper and showing it to her. "Doctor John Smith, to be exact. I prefer to be called Doctor."

She plucked it from his fingers, reading it carefully. "Doctor John Smith, yes. Did you really care for the Queen?"

"Is that what it says?" He tried to take a peek at the paper.

"Yes."

"Then yes." He took the paper back and tucked it back into his pocket. "I care for the Queen and here I am to care for you humans."

"I suppose it makes sense that you like to be called Doctor. You doctors are often overly proud of your work, and you're one who cares for the queen?" She gave a soft laugh. "Your chin must be holding all your pride."

With a gasp, he grabbed at his chin. "Why does everyone have to insult the chin? It's not that big! Not that I have enough pride to make it big...I...you...you should be impressed by me, anyway!"

"Oh, sir, I would be quite impressed if you were not so obviously prideful of yourself." She gave him a smirk and started to step away. "If you would excuse me, I have a couple things to tend to." She saw him open his mouth, but simply turned and walked down the street.

"—oh, now I'm cross!" With a growl, the Doctor stalked back into the alley and marched up to the TARDIS, giving the doors a kick. This was followed by him crying out in pain, grabbing at his foot, and falling right back to the ground in the exact spot he'd been before.

I'm not sure if you guys are interested not, but there you go! I hope you liked it at least the tiniest bit. The tiniest. A little smidgen of a bit. Please review, favorite, and follow! :)