This is my first foray into the world of Doctor Who fiction and most of my classic Who memories are from early childhood so I will apologise now for anything that's OOC. I'm not much of a writer so I've played it safe with a bit of harmless fluff. Hope you enjoy it, and do please review!

Sarah Jane shuddered and pulled her knees up to her chest. She was lying on her side, curled into a foetal position, wrapped in a duvet and doing her utmost to stop the violent shivering that had seemingly overtaken her body.

It was her own fault really; she should never have believed the Doctor when he said that they had finally managed to find a beach. It wasn't so much the 6 inches of snow they'd stepped into upon exiting the TARDIS, nor the inevitable alien guards pressing their inevitable weapons into her back, nor the inevitable walk back to the inevitable holding cell that had really got her wick. No, it was her own stupid lack of foresight that had caused her to wear clothing that was eminently suitable for a beach, and most definitely not suitable for a sub-zero stone room with a glassless window. Two hours wearing nothing but a sleeveless top, shorts and flip-flops had been horribly unpleasant and she thanked her lucky stars she'd at least had the sense not to wear her bathing suit. Of course the Doctor had managed to argue their way out eventually but the time Sarah Jane had spent huddled into a ball trying to conserve her body heat had chilled her to her very marrow and she genuinely felt like she'd never be warm again.

The Doctor, ever the (sort of) gentleman, had given her his coat and scarf and when she'd stomped back into the TARDIS she had paused only to throw them over the chair in her bedroom before curling up in bed, dragging all the blankets she could find over her. The Doctor, for his part, had wisely left her alone for a quarter of an hour despite his concern that her sudden need for sleep could be the onset of hypothermia.

She turned her head as she heard the swish of her bedroom door and saw the Doctor approach her bed.

'Sarah Jane? Are you alright?'

She turned back to face the wall and tried to huff in disdain but succeeded only in producing a wobbly sigh as her teeth chattered uncontrollably and her voice failed her.

The Doctor contemplated her for a brief moment before lifting the covers and sliding into the bed. His weight on the mattress behind her combined with his arm sliding under her pillow served to roll her back towards him, her body landing half on his chest. He was still without his coat and scarf but she was surprised to feel he had also divested himself of his waistcoat and opened his shirt. Her left arm and the back of her neck were pressed to him, skin on skin, and his normally cool body felt as though it was scorching her frozen back. He reached round with the long arm under her pillow and started to stroke her hair back from her forehead. Sarah Jane bit her lip and tried to slow her breathing, desperately trying to relax her body and calm the trembling that she now wasn't so sure was entirely caused by the cold.

The Doctor lifted their left hands together and inspected her chalk white skin and the fingernails that still held a tinge of blue and sighed.

'I'm so sorry, Sarah'

'It's fine Doctor. I'm sure I'll warm up soon enough.'

'Let me help you with that' he murmured into her ear, enveloping her hand in his and wrapping their joined arms tightly around her waist, sliding the tips of his fingers under the edge of her top. He moved the other hand from her hair and wound that arm around her too, his big hand almost covering her entire ribcage. His legs tucked up behind hers and he snuggled into her back, his breath warm against the nape of her neck.

Sarah hesitated for a moment and lifted her free hand, gently stroking the back of his knuckles. In one movement he flexed his hand, trapping her fingers between his and lacing them together before placing his hand back on her chest, this time higher, over her heartbeat, feeling the single thump thump against the heel of his palm. He wiggled his other hand higher as well, completely under her top, pressing it to her stomach and hip, giving her as much direct contact with his skin as he could. Sarah relished the feel of being protected, cocooned by his much larger frame. She could feel herself drifting off.

'How many cells is it that I've been thrown into now?' she asked sleepily.

'37, by my reckoning. Still, I always wangle our way out of them in the end don't I?'

Sarah could feel his grin against her hair.

'You know,' she murmured, 'most normal people tend to avoid prison cells altogether'

She could almost feel his horror as he exclaimed

'Where's the fun in that?'

She chuckled.

'Just as long as you're always there to get us out, Doctor, I'm sure we'll be fine.'

The Doctor pressed her even closer and she felt her breath hitch as his embrace tightened.

'I will always be there for you, my Sarah,' replied the Doctor, his voice suddenly taking on a more serious tone, before he whispered in her ear 'and I'll always be there to warm you up again.'

Sarah gave one final shiver before falling asleep.

3 days later. Holding cell number 38. Somewhere most definitely nowhere near a beach.

Sarah lay on the cramped bunk, her crossed ankles propped up on the wall in front of her, and adjusted the thin pillow beneath her head. She was pretty uncomfortable but couldn't help but feel a little smug that she was not only wearing a jacket and jeans, but had also had the wonderful idea of putting a novel in her coat pocket. She lifted said novel and began flicking through to find her place when was distracted by the Doctor's booming voice out in the hallway as he attempted to bluster his way through the guards. She chuckled to her self and then closed her eyes, remembering for a moment the way he had breathed those words into her ear.

'I'll always be there to warm you up'

The feel of his arms around her, his solid, bare chest pressed against her back, his hand over her heart…. It was almost worth the discomfort of being imprisoned again to know that her day might end in that way.

She shivered as a cold draught gusted in through the tiny window.

Well, she did say almost.