Ah, dawn.
The Doctor awoke to the bright summer sun shining through the fibers of his blanket, one which he'd received from a kind citizen a few moons back who seemed to have sympathy for him and decided to donate one to the stranded Time Lord.
He was eternally grateful, as the following night came forth with chilling winds, shaking him to the bone. But today was a new day, the sun was out, the sky was blue and the air was crisp. Perfect for his first day on the job. Now, since the Daleks had nicked his time machine, he was stuck in Chiswick with nothing to do, and no money to buy food. Normally he could go a while without eating but the cold, harsh winds of the previous night had weakened him somewhat, provoking the need to consume something, preferably a sandwich with a hot beverage.
So he had decided to take matters into his own hands and take up the role as the local mailman. Somewhat surprisingly, during his 1001 year existence, he'd never been a mailman of any kind. Just wasn't his thing. However, having no idea of when River would return his TARDIS, The Doctor thought it would be best to at least have some currency, should he need to stick around for more than a few days.
The Doctor rubbed his eyes, before rising to his feet and grabbing his bag that was given to him for his duties. It included around twenty newspapers, and he reckoned that it would be doable within an hour.
His round would take him down a main road, through a couple of dingy side streets and an estate.
Currently, he was residing under the Chiswick Flyover, a short elevated part of the M4 motorway. It might not have been the most luxurious, but it kept him dry at least. While the sound of motor vehicles limited his ability to get much sleep, they were a nice reminder that he wasn't alone, like he had been most times he's been alone without his time machine.
The increasing amount of cars that were passing by signalled to him that the morning rush was underway. Good time to get started.
The smell of a past rainfall hung heavy over London. While some might've turned their noses up at it, The Doctor quite liked the scent, it gave off the impression that the earth had been 'cleansed', and that the day was fresh start. Maybe it was an omen.
While he rambled to himself, he quickly found himself at the residence of a citizen of Chiswick, one that was on his round. The house looked quite ordinary, it had two stories, as was the theme with many of the homes in that neighbourhood. He couldn't shake off the feeling, however, that the house was a little bit special. Number 30. It just had an aura around it, like it was blessed or held many stories and adventures. It even had a little screen that a camera that would relay the surroundings to a similar device on the interior. He loved little screens. He quickly made a mental note to remember this specific house, and maybe revisit it at a later date when he got his TARDIS back.
It was then that The Doctor froze. He suddenly realised that he had no idea of what to do with the newspapers. Did he drop them outside or did he knock and hand them over in person? Just to make sure, he thought it would be best to knock and pass it on in person.
Proceeding toward the front door, he knocked three times, loud and clear. Ten seconds or so pass, no response. Guessing maybe the person was doing something noisy or just didn't hear, he tried again. Three loud knocks. Once more, no activity.
Knowing that he shouldn't wait around too long, he decided to take another approach. Bending down, The Doctor opened the letterbox and peeked inside, scanning the main hall. The kitchen door was open, while the living room door remained shut. Figuring that he should pass the newspaper through the letterbox, he grabbed the former and stuck his hand through. Before he could drop it though, a female voice called.
"Sorry, just a second! I was using my hair drier so I couldn't hear the knocking."
The Time Lord's heart fluttered for a brief second, for her voice was almost that of an angel. He picked up on the accent quickly though, it sounded like it came from the north, possibly around Blackpool.
He was dragged out of his thoughts by the voice again, but this time much angrier sounding.
"Oi! Get your bloody hands out of my letterbox!"
Without hesitation, he hastily jerked his arm out of the small opening, and with good timing too, as the door abruptly opened, revealing a girl in her mid twenty's, sporting slightly unkept hair, dressed in a patterned gray sweater and black jeans with a pair of boots rounding it out.
Wide eyed, he had to be shaken out of his imagination by a stern hand.
"Oi, mailman, you look like you've just seen a ghost. What brings you to my door then? If you were just doing your job, you would've dropped the paper by the door."
Searching for words, The Doctor racked his mind.
"Um, yes! Ah, well, see, first day on the job! New to this, didn't even really want to do it in the first place, but push came to shove and here I am. Speaking of doing a job, I should really check up on Drakarth one of these days, I doubt he's too happy working at a tech company that's got ties to the Daleks. And to make it worse, the station where he works his orbiting a black hole..." he said, flapping his hands about in his trademark motion.
The young female couldn't help but chuckle at the rambling. This so called mailman has turned up out of nowhere, supposedly his first day on the job, he doesn't know that he's supposed to put the papers outside for people, yet he's talking about someone with a name that's not from this planet and something about Daleks? Sounds a bit loopy to me. I must admit,though, he's got a certain charm to him, that floppy hair of his is wonderful and he seems rather silly. Definitely one to keep an eye on.
"Are you off your rocker?" she asked, half seriously.
"Not at all. Perfectly coherent." he said with a wide smile.
The woman raised her eyebrow, not sure whether to take him seriously or not at this point.
"Well you certainly sound it." She couldn't help but wonder though, what are those Dalek things?
The Doctor let out a laugh.
"Terribly sorry then, must be my rambling, I tend to do that this time round." he said. Deciding that it would be best that he go, The Doctor picked up the paper and brought it up to her. "Anyway, here's your newspaper. I best be off now."
As he turned to leave though, she halted him.
"Wait!" She grabbed him by the arm and looked up with a mysterious smile. "What are these Dalek things you were talking about? And that name! Doesn't sound very earthy to me."
"Ah! See, well, the thing is..." he was interrupted by the woman's high pitched shout.
"Oh bugger, my toast is done. Gotta run. Real quick though, what's your name?"
"Uh, call me John Smith."
"Well Mr. Smith, maybe you'll see me again soon." she replied, with a smirk, before shutting the door and locking it.
The Doctor blinked in confusion, trying to process what just happened.
"What was that? From attempting to drop off a paper to her asking for my name."
He thought back to when he first heard her voice, one so unique and lovely at the same time, and he remembered how his heart fluttered at the sound.
Damnit man, you sound like a love struck teenager! Get it together. Do the job for a few days, get some money, hold out until Vastra gets here and get out.
Still though, he couldn't deny that he felt some sort of attraction to the girl.