Disclaimer: I'm running out of disclaimers. So Moffat, if you're reading this, I am sorry for jacking up your characters.
The green console room grows still and the Doctor steps away from the controls. The screen above him is black and he stares at his reflection. His face is blank and he feels nothing; he is somber but otherwise completely numb. He sighs. Turning around, he commands his legs to function, shuffling through the door leading out of the room and deeper into the TARDIS. His mind drifts off into the unknown and he finds himself in the doorway of his study: A medium-sized room with a furnished desk, ornate lamp, and many, many documents; a short, square coffee table with a forgotten teapot and two sad,
empty cups, all on a blue tray; and two chairs: a low, round one of comfortably worn, golden brown leather, and one almost identical but coloured a brilliant navy.
He almost turns around and leaves, but something catches his eye. He walks toward the brown chair and reaches into it, picking up a rather large book with a piece of bathroom tissue as a bookmark: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
Smiling faintly, he opens the volume to its marked page and reads the first few lines:
"Whenever you have eliminated the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth!"
He chuckles to himself and closes the book. He turns his attention to the brown chair. It was Donna's, he remembers. And so was the book.
She was smarter than she got credit for, and she could curl up for hours with a book and be content.
"Okay, where would you like to go next?" he would ask, pulling down a lever with his right hand and holding down a button with his left.
Donna would think for a few seconds, then reply, "Do we have to go somewhere?"
He'd let go of the controls and the lever would right itself. He would say, "No, of course not. We can stay in the TARDIS."
And she would smile and he would smile, because that particular conversation was just a little joke between the two of them. And they would walk together down the wide halls of the TARDIS and separate when they got to their bedrooms. They would quickly change into comfortable clothes and race each other to the kitchen, where the Doctor would put the kettle on, and Donna would get the biscuits. He would balance everything on a tray and she would lead him to the study. She would enter and he would follow, setting the tray down on the coffee table, and she would close the door, sealing them off from the rest of the universe.
There, they would have enlightening conversations about politics, literature, or anything else they brought up. And when they were done with the tea they would take out the biscuits and each delve into their own book.
But now, the Doctor is on his own. Donna has forgotten him, and he's all by himself in his blue box.
He clutches the book to his chest, emotion rolling over him in waves. Picking up the tray containing the teapot and cups, he allows one sad last look at the brown chair before he wills it to disappear, and it quickly fades from view, automatically saved in his machine's hard drive.
I'm contemplating continuing this, and if I do, I want to do one for Martha and one for Rose. Do you have any suggestions? If so, I'd love to hear each one of the little ideas that pop into your head.
Also, I'm a Beta now. So, yeah. Proof-reading and stuff. I'm your man.
Oh- And I'm writing a series of one-shots based on the Doctor and River, inspired by words I draw from a fez. If you have any words for the fez, I would love your contribution! :D I'll give you credit for your thoughts, and each word will be in the fez. I guess I'll continue it until the words run out.