It was just a small café. Not the kind he'd usually find himself in. Too quiet and homey, with little chairs tucked away in corners, between large bookshelves and paintings by local artists. No this wasn't the kind of place he'd usually come to at all. And it was exactly what he needed.
"What'll you be havin' sir?" The girl behind the counter had a very heavy accent.
"Right, umm" He leaned against the counter, "I'll have, I will have, tea aaaand a biscuit."
The girl listed the price, and he absentmindedly handed her a bill. Already looking for a place to sit.
Boring, ordinary, would probably wonder off… He studied the faces of the other customers, Where are the interesting people? Wait, wait! AHA! He set eyes on a small ginger girl, wearing red trainers, tucked away in the farthest corner. He snatched his tray and headed over.
"Sir! Sir! Yah forgot yer change sir!"
"Keep it!"
"Wow thanks sir!" and he vaguely wondered exactly how much he had given her.
"Mind if I sit here?" he flung himself in the chair across from the girl in red trainers.
"There are plenty of other seats I'm sure." She sniped, not taking her eyes of the bit of metal she was tinkering with.
"What are you working on?"
She put it down with a sigh and picked up her mug with both hands, "A sonic screwdriver, if you must know, Sir."
"I'm sorry a what!"
"A sonic screwdriver, Sir. A screwdriver, that is sonic."
"Yes, yes I got that bit. But how did you come up with something like that?"
"I'm sorry, Sir. But I don't know you."
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
"I'm sorry, Sir. Calling you what?"
"Sir, Ma'am!"
"I'm not a Ma'am, Sir. I'm Emma."
"Then what makes me a Sir, Ma'am?"
"Please don't call me that Sir, it's not proper."
"And I don't think it's proper to call me Sir."
"Why would that be, Si-" Emma stopped at the dark glance the man gave her, "Eeerm Mister...?"
"Mister…" He smiled, "Doctor."
"Mister Doctor?"
"Yes."
"Doctor Who?"
"Exactly," and The Doctor sat back, satisfied.
"Oh! You're not making any sense! Still," She mirrored the Doctor, "I've heard of a man called the Doctor before."
Every alarm in the Doctor's head went off, "You have?"
"Yes Sir."
"I'll ignore that, if" The Doctor stared into her eyes, "You tell me about him. Tell me about this, this Doctor."
Emma heaved a sigh. There was something familiar about her, The Doctor thought. Something that made him feel very uncomfortable.
"My great grandfather used to tell me the stories about my Mum. Before she married Father, she used to travel with this man called The Doctor. She was the greatest, together they saved a whole race from slavery, they went to a library that took up a whole planet, they saved the world! He was an alien! The most magnificent alien, he traveled in a blue box that was bigger on the inside, and he had" she held up the hunk of metal, "a sonic screwdriver."
"Sounds magnificent this Doctor. Tell me, did you great grandfather ever tell you about the time your Mum and I met Agatha Christie?"
"Oh yes! That was one of my favorites I…" Emma suddenly gave the Doctor a glare that reminded him so much of her mother he had to choke back a few tears. "How did you…?"
"Tell me, how is your Mum? How is Donna Temple-Noble?"
Donna opened her eyes and sat up with a jolt, hardly aware of her surroundings. She hadn't felt anything like this for ages, it was like someone was calling her. Someone just at the edge of her memory, locked away too far to reach but oh so familiar.
"I'm here!" she whispered, "I'm here!" and she was pulled back into her world of dreams.
