A slight breeze blew through the empty balconies of Powell's Estate, London. The walls were not quite as graffitti'd as they were, and the buildings looked a little less worse for wear. The nearby posters advertised the Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert and the latest Madonna album, as well as various other local bands and raves that were happening soon. For the most part, however, the estate looked the same as it always did.

The Doctor smiled. He'd been here three times before – once in 1987, once in 2005 and once in 2006 – and now he was seeing it as it was in 1992. His Rose would have been five or six years old, he guessed, which meant that she'd probably be at school right now. Not that he had to worry about her making another fool of herself like in 1987 with the Reapers – he'd left Rose with her mum for a bit back in 2005. he had a feeling she wanted a bit of time with her family, and he couldn't begrudge her that. Still, he missed her. He'd become used to having her around, after all, and he didn't like being on his own. He supposed that was why the TARDIS had brought him here.

He walked around a bit, stopping occasionally to inspect his surroundings and smile at the memories which (technically) hadn't happened yet.

"Stop it, Shareen! Give it back!"

The Doctor whipped his head around and turned to look in the direction the voice was coming from. He recognised that name.

"Not fair, Rose! You've been playin' with it for AGES, I want a go!"

He smiled to himself. He recognised that name too.

"But I only got it yesterday!"

"Exactly, that's AGES!" Children's logic was unbeatable, and yet strangely accurate. In a TARDIS, a day was an age away. The Doctor knew that, and so did Rose. And Shareen, apparently.

"I'm telling on you, I am!" five-year-old Rose shouted before running in the Doctor's direction, which happened to be the way back to Rose's flat. As she came closer, The Doctor stepped in front of her and grinned down at her.

"Hello there," he said chirpily. All he got in response was a suspicious frown.

"Are you a stranger?" Rose asked loudly. "Cause I'm not s'posed to talk to strangers, mummy told me so."

"I'm not a stranger. I'm the Doctor."

"You're a doctor?" Her eyes lit up and a big smile appeared on her face. "Oh, that's OK then, cause doctors are clever and they help people and they're not nasty."

"That's right, I'm not nasty," chuckled the Doctor, kneeling down so he was at Rose's eye level. "And what's your name?"

"Rose," she chirruped. "What's yours?"

"You can call me Fred, if you like." Her face fell.

"But Fred's a BORING name."

"What d'you wanna call me, then?" he asked with a grin. Rose thought for a moment, her face screwed up in concentration, before shrugging nonchalantly.

"Dunno. Can I just call you Doctor?"

"Fantastic." He rummaged in his jacket pocket for a second and pulled out a sticky boiled sweet wrapped in crumpled plastic. "D'you fancy a sweetie?"

Rose was torn. Here was this man who, according to mummy, was a stranger, and she knew it was wrong to take sweeties from strangers … but he was a doctor, and she did like boiled sweets, and he didn't look very scary … sighing melodramatically, she shifted her weight and looked at the Doctor.

"I can't," she moaned. "Mummy says I can't. it might be an evil sweetie."

"Fair enough," he said, replacing the sweet. Having met Jackie, he couldn't blame Rose for not wanting to get on her bad side. "Might see you later then, yeah?" Rose smiled and nodded vigorously. She wasn't going to turn down another offer of a sweetie again.

"Off you go, then," he said briskly, standing up and nodding her in the direction of her flat. Rose skipped off happily, not even wondering how the nice doctor knew where she lived, and had forgotten all about him by the time she got home. The smell of mummy's cooking made her wrinkle her nose up again.

The Doctor watched her skipping off and felt satisfied. On his way back to his TARDIS, not looking where he was going, he bumped into a tall, gangly man in a pinstripe suit and a long brown coat.

"Oh, sorry, I'm so sorry," the man said. He made a big fuss of straightening his tie and ruffling his hair. The Doctor frowned as he readjusted his jacket, looking oddly at the man. He seemed strangely familiar, as if he'd met him somewhere before. Judging by the look on the man's face, he felt the same.

"Do I know you?" the Doctor asked.

"I was gonna ask you the same question," said the man. He ruffled his hair again and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. He tilted his head to the side slightly, as if he was listening for something, while giving the Doctor an odd look. The Doctor frowned some more. He wasn't sure he liked this man staring at him like this. It was as if he was trying to catch him out, like he knew something the Doctor didn't. The Doctor cleared his throat and went to move away, but the man – accidentally or on purpose, he couldn't work out which – shifted his weight onto the other foot, effectively blocking the Doctor's escape route. The man was now looking him slowly up and down, scrutinising him.

"Nice jacket," he said finally. The Doctor couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not.

"Thanks," he said, still suspicious of this odd man. The man grinned widely at him, displaying a row of rather large teeth, and nodded at him.

"No worries."

"Nice, erm …" He looked the man up and down, trying to find something to compliment him on. "Nice shoes." The man looked down at his scruffy white plimsolls, which looked so out-of-place they almost looked normal on him, and grinned back at the Doctor once more.

"Glad you like 'em," he intoned. There was another awkward silence before the Doctor coughed again.

"Well, I'd best me going," he said. "I've left my, um … I've left my friend someone and I need to pick her up."

"Girlfriend?" the man said cheekily, teasing the Doctor. The Doctor frowned some more. This man definitely knew more than he was letting on.

"No," he said firmly. "My relationship with Rose is purely platonic."

"And does she know this?"

"Yes, of course," he said, irritated. "We're not compatible."

"Mother disapproves of the age gap?"

"Something like that," he muttered, caught off-guard for a second.

"Not to worry, I'm sure she'll come round eventually. Anyway, I bet she doesn't really fancy you. She loves you, I'm sure … and I bet you love her too, don't you?"

"Well, yes …" the Doctor admitted, slightly uncomfortable at having his private life probed by a perfect stranger, "but not in that way. Never in that way. You can love someone and not want to date them, can't you?"

"Course you can. Take it from me, as long as you let her know, everything'll be fine." The Doctor frowned again and cleared his throat once more. The man carried on grinning like a loon at him.

"Well … yes. Anyway, um … I'd … I'd best be going."

"Take care!" he said, still grinning. The Doctor frowned once more for good measure and then strode off in the direction of his TARDIS.

"Oh, and by the way," he heard the man shout after him. The Doctor stopped, counted to five and turned round slowly.

"Next time you get a headache, get someone to make you a cup of tea."

"A cup of tea?"

"Miracle cure. I swear by it." The Doctor stared for a moment as the man grinned one last time and walked away, whistling 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day'. The Doctor shook his head and strode off back to his TARDIS to pick Rose up. The sooner he got away from that madman, the better.

As the TARDIS faded away noisily, the madman in question poked his head out from behind the wheelie bin he'd been hiding behind. He grinned to himself.

Right, that's got him sorted. Still don't know what I was thinking with that jacket … oh well, another life gone. Now, where did that poster say that tribute concert was?

And for the second time in five minutes, the residents of Powell Estate heard a strange grinding noise fading away into the afternoon.