(Author's Note: Hello, everybody! I just wanted to give some background on this story. This is a project that I'm starting for Camp NaNoWriMo, which begins on Monday. My dream is to someday write for television, and in order to do that I have to be comfortable with writing material that I did not come up with myself. That's why I decided to spend the month writing fanfiction. I'm going to try and bring my own ideas to Doctor Who without deviating too much from what the show is all about. I appreciate any and all reviews, and I really hope that you enjoy my story! I'm not technically supposed to begin until Monday, so I'm going to call this chapter a prequel. I'm such a rebel, aren't I? ~ Pepper.)
Once upon a time in a town called London, there lived a man. Except he didn't actually live there; he traveled a lot and every once in a while he'd just sort of show up in London with no prior notice. Anyway. This man was in London on this particular day, which is the same day in which our story begins. Except it wasn't daytime at all when he came; actually it was about seven o'clock, which technically is the evening. Or the night, if you prefer. But the point is that The Doctor was in London on this particular night (or evening), and that is where our story starts. For the record, it started with a crash. Just as the man had arrived with no prior notice, a big blue box fell from the sky and landed right in the middle of a field with no warning whatsoever. And it's a good thing that no one was in the field, because they surely would have had quite a shock if they had been there to see it. Anyway. A middle aged man staggered out of the big blue box, scratching his head as he mumbled something about eyebrows and his legs being wobbly. He was wearing a suit that looked far too big for him and his black bow tie was crooked. Just to remind you, no one was around to hear him speak. But if they had been, it's very likely that they would have heard him say this:
"That is absolutely, positively, undeniably, the last time that I save the earth from total destruction. It's so commonplace anymore that they don't at all appreciate the things I do for them. So that's that."
Of course The Doctor didn't mean this, but he didn't know that at the time. What he did know was that the TARDIS had crashed in the middle of a field somewhere in London, and she must have been damaged upon impact. Her readings indicated that there was not a single lifeform on this planet, yet there he stood on two wobbly legs, very much alive. At least, he thought he was alive. The Doctor placed a hand over his chest and nodded with satisfaction when he felt the rhythm of two hearts beating within his chest. Yes, he was alive. And he could feel the Earth turning beneath his feet, hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And Big Ben's mighty face announced to the world that it was seven o'clock, and all of the city was lit up. The Doctor walked until he came upon a street, and sure enough there were people all about him. They were talking on mobile phones, shopping, and eating. Doing the things that all normal humans do. And yet, as far as his TARDIS was concerned, they did not exist.
As far as his TARDIS was concerned, neither did he.