Author's note: Hello, hello! Before you start, dear reader, I need to make something clear. The story you find below was written by me years ago. I was small and didn't have much of a fluency then. I apologize if there are plot holes or such. But past-me would've wanted this published here more than anything but I was reluctant. yet years later, here I am. So I do hope you find this story amusing as it was to me back then.

Sniffing in the cool London air, I walked down the pathway to the flat where I resided. Craig Owens, a little fat, sweet and settled man was who I lodged with. A woman used to come to meet Craig and me (Though it was mostly Craig) and rarely stayed in her room. Mostly she used to stay at her friend's house. This woman's name was Sophie. I really don't know her last name; even though she said the day we met. It was evident to anyone that Craig loved Sophie, and Sophie was confused between two. I had known it the day I started living there.

Entering the house, I glanced at the room upstairs. Dark and gloomy, as usual. The man who stayed there was quiet… well, usually. When asked if needed help, he would shake his head and close the half-open door. I found it mysterious but Craig just said he needed his privacy. And it's not hard to guess he owned a lot of privacy. An occasional loud thump could be heard, yet whatever the man was doing to create those thumps was unknown to us. I suggested we should check it out, but Craig turned it down.

I peeked into the living room and shook my head with a smile as soft snores escaped from a man lying on the sofa. The television screen continued to blare while I shook the man awake.

'Craig… Craig… Craig!'

Craig awoke, startled. He sprung up from the sofa, muttering something about Sophie. When his eyes fell on me, he blushed a tad and I giggled.

'Oh… hey, Mae. I thought it was…'

'Sophie?'

'Err… yeah.'

I sighed. 'Craig, why don't just tell her?'

'Tell who what?'

'Tell Sophie that you… you know…" Even without saying the word he knew what I was talking about.

'I can't,' said he, shaking his head but smiled shyly at the thought.

'Okay, why not indirectly imply it, then?' I uselessly suggested.

'No. I don't know,' he sighed. He steered our conversation into another direction, away from the topic. In the corner of the ceiling, there was a growing black moss-type thing. It was a rot, a dry one. Or a damp or mildew. And we had only noticed it recently, yet we still hadn't found a way to get rid of it.

'It's getting bigger then,' he pointed out. I frowned at how right he was. For some odd reason, I didn't have a good feeling about it.

'Better get someone to fix it.'

'I said I can fix it.'

I scoffed. 'Yeah, and you said that before I left and now you're here watching TV?'

'It was just a little break! I've been busy in a lot of work, you know. Plus, where have you been?'

'My sister called. Said she wanted some help,' I told him and yawned. 'And I want sleep.'

'Looks like you do. It's late, anyway. Night.'

'Night, lover boy.'

'Shut up.'

Craig and I were watching TV the next morning after breakfast. The creaking of the door as it opened and closed, and the 'Hello' of a female voice indicated that Sophie had come. I frantically straightened Craig's shirt and fixed his hair, ignoring the 'Stop it's I got from him. We both stood up when Sophie entered.

'Hi,' I breathed.

'Hello,' she greeted.

'I was just going to…err… I just have to do something, if you don't mind.'

'Oh, okay.'

I went out and hid, listening to their conversation. Hopefully, it wouldn't be boring. But I was wrong.

Sophie talked about what she did yesterday, Craig giving an occasional 'oh', then normal talking, then Sophie pointed out how bigger the rot got, and something else I didn't pay much attention to.

I slid down the wall and let my head lean against it. They were talking like they met three days ago. Standing up, I acted as if I was just coming into the room when Sophie walked out.

'Leaving so early?'

'Yeah. Emergency call from my friend. Sorry, I hope you don't mind.'

'No, not at all. Are you coming tomorrow?'

'It's Saturday tomorrow, of course I'm coming!'

'What does Saturday have to do with anything?' I asked, furrowing my brows together.

'Did you really forget? It's football tomorrow. I promised Craig I would come.'

Every Saturday Craig used to play football with his mates, and I used to tag along to cheer with the crowd. Craig and I used to count the days till Saturday for football.

'I completely forgot about that!'

'Oh, Mae. How forgetful have you become.'

'…'M not that forgetful,' I said in childs voice and sniffed, looking down to give the impression that I was offended. Too bad she saw through that.

'Shut up,' she smacked my arm playfully and I grinned.

'See you tomorrow, then.'

I bid goodbye to her, and when the door closed I stormed into the living room to Craig.

'Please tell me that you at least made an attempt to tell her.'

'You were listening, weren't you?'

'Yup,' I half-lied, popping the 'p'

'I had made an attempt before, you know,' he sighed.

I looked at him dead serious. 'Really?'

'No. Stop listening in.'

I sighed.

'Come on, you've been doing this since months,' I groaned and flopped down on the couch.

'Why are you so keen on getting us together, anyway? It won't happen.'

'I don't know. Why are you so keen on getting together with her, then?' I retorted. 'She's nice, she's smart. Not to forget the fact that you love her.'

'I'm just helping you out,' I added with a shrug.

'I know you are. I know,' he sat next to me. 'And I appreciate that you do. It's just…. It's hard.'

'It always is. Sometimes, you have to just blurt it out. Get it off your chest.'

'And by the way, I might've implied it,' I said, playing with fingers.

He looked at me dead serious. 'Really?!'

'No. That's why you have to do it.'

He bit his lip in thought. But as he was going to announce his decision (Which I still think was negative), the doorbell rang and before anyone of us could have offered to answer the door, Craig's eyes drifted to the desk. On it, there lay a pink keychain which was Sophie's key to the house.

'Every time,' Craig muttered, picking up the key. Before he did go to answer the door he looked at me with a smile, hope twinkling in his eyes. He fiddled with them a little.

'I'm going to get if off my chest.' he announced his final decision.

'Atta boy,' I grinned as he left, and stood a few feet away from the door to see Sophie's reaction. I felt that Craig was silently thanking me, and the hope that twinkled in his eyes was the hope that he had regained with my help.

'I love you.' Rehearsing those three lines over and over again, he swung the door open to blurt it out. 'I love you!'

But the person ringing the doorbell was not Sophie. It was a man. He wore a beige tweed jacket and a red bowtie, and had a mop of hair gathered at the side of his forehead. He smiled at the bewildered Craig.

'Well that's good, 'cause I'm your new lodger. D'you know, this is going to be easier than I expected,' the man snatched the keys from Craig, thinking it was his now.

'Can I come in? I can come in, can't I?' He asked, rhetorically I think. Without waiting for an answer he passed through Craig. When he saw me, he smiled warmly.

'Hello, I'm your new lodger!' He said excitedly. I smiled back at his excitement.

'Yeah, I heard. Hello, I'm Mae and that,' I pointed at Craig who closed the open door. '…is Craig.'

'Oh,' said he, glancing at Craig and leaning towards me to whisper. 'I think Craig has a certain liking towards me.'

I laughed. 'Oh, no no. He thought you were someone else.'

'But I only put the advert up today. I didn't put my address,' Craig remarked, his voice hinting his slight bewilderment.

'Well aren't you lucky I came along. More lucky than you know. Less of a young professional. More of an ancient amateur. But frankly I'm an absolute dream,' the man grinned.

'I don't know if I want you to stay, I mean give me back those keys. You can't have those.'

'Yes, quite right. Have some rent.' The man handed him a paper bag, and Craig peeked into it. 'That's probably quite a lot isn't it? Looks like a lot. Is it a lot? I can never tell.'

'Don't spend it all on sweets unless you like sweets—I like sweets. Oh!' he kissed the air on either side of our face, Craig first then me. 'That's how they greet each other nowadays isn't it? I'm the Doctor. Well, they call me the Doctor. I don't know why. I call me the Doctor too. Still don't know why,' he went on, glancing between Craig and the room upstairs.

'Doctor who?' I asked. He grinned.

'Ah, now that is a very dangerous question.'

He was weird. The good weird. I liked it.

'Just the Doctor?' Craig asked, raising a brow.

'Yep. Who lives there?' The Doctors attention now shifted towards the room upstairs. I could tell he was curious.

'Just some bloke,' Craig answered.

'What's he look like?'

'Normal.' I answered this time. 'He's very quiet.'

A thump.

'Usually. Err, sorry who are you again?'

'Told you, the Doctor.'

'A doctor of what, exactly?'

'Cheese,' said the Doctor proudly. 'Ooh, speaking of that, I'm hungry. Are you hungry?'

He sprinted into the living room, where the kitchen was behind the sofa. It was like two rooms merged together.

The Doctor took a pan, broke an egg into it and heated it on the stove. He then sprinkled it with pepper, added two strips of bacon, put a slice of cheese, squirted mustard into it, and added a few other stuff I didn't the time to see since he was doing it very quickly. He took out a wooden spatula and began to stir. As he stirred, he glanced at the fridge, where photos of me, Craig and Sophie were stuck with magnets. I wasn't in much of them. There was a particular one of Sophie in Paris.

'Who's that?' he asked, still stirring.

'My friend. Sophie.'

'Girlfriend?

'A friend who's a girl. There's nothing going on,' Craig was blushing a little. The Doctor nodded once and I leaned against the doorframe, just listening to the two.

'Oh, that's completely normal. Works for me.'

'We met at work a year ago, at the call center.' Craig went on.

'Oh really, a communications exchange? That could be handy.'

'Firm's going down though. The bosses are using a totally rubbish business model. I know what they should do. I got a plan all worked out. But I'm just a phone drone, I can't go running in saying I know best and why am I telling you this? I don't even know you.'

'I just have one of those faces. People never stop blurting out their plans when I'm around.'

Craig clapped his hands and began to rub them. 'Right. Where's your stuff?'

'Don't worry, it'll just materialize. If all goes to plan.' His eyes then drifted to the ceiling where the Rotmeist was.

'Ah, I suppose that. Dry rot?' He asked.

'Or damp or mildew,' I suggested.

'Or none of the above.'

'I'll get someone to fix it.' Craig reasoned.

'No, I'll fix it. I'm good at fixing rot. Call me the "Rotmeister". No, I'm the Doctor. Don't call me the Rotmeister.'

'This is the most beautiful parlor I've ever seen. You're obviously a man of impeccable taste. I can stay Craig, can't I? Say I can,' he went on.

'You haven't even seen the room yet.'

'The room?'

'Your room.'

'My room. Oh yes! My room! My room,' the Doctor smiled to himself as if he never had a room before. 'Take me to my room. Wait, not now.' He took notice of the food in the pan and began to stir faster.

After an hour or so, we were sitting on the couch after a delicious meal for three which was made by the Doctor. Oh, I still crave for that.

'That was incredible. That was absolutely brilliant. Where did you learn to cook?'

'Paris. In the eighteenth century. No, hang on. That's not recent is it? Seventeenth? No no, twentieth. Sorry, I'm not used to doing them in the right order.'

'Has anyone every told you that you're a bit weird?' Craig asked and I was about to elbow him but a grin that appeared on the Doctor's face held me back.

'They never really stop. Ever been to Paris, Craig?'

'Nah. I can't see the point of Paris. I'm not much of a traveler.'

'I can tell by your sofa.'

'My sofa?'

'You're starting to look like it.'

I held back a laugh, but failed in my attempt to do so. Craig, not to my surprise, chuckled.

'Thanks mate, that's lovely. No, I like it here. I'd miss it.' I hadn't noticed how Craig was fondling the Sophie's keys.

'What about you, Mae?'

'Oh, I've always wanted to go to different places.'

'Have you?'

'I've been to a few places. I'm a bit of a traveler.'

'That's good,' the Doctor smiled.

'What about you, Doctor? Are you the travelling type?' I asked, propping my elbows on my thighs and resting my chin on the palm of my hands.

'Definitely. I've been to loads of places, you name it.'

'How's it like?'

'Absolutely brilliant.' He grinned and I grinned along.

'Those keys,' the Doctor stated.

'What?'

'You're sort of… fondling them.'

It was then that I noticed that Craig still had Sophie's keys in his hand and he was, as the Doctor pointed out, fondling them.

'I'm holding them!' he cried and grabbed another set of keys. 'Anyway. These, these are your keys.'

The Doctor smiled childishly. 'I can stay?'

'Course you can,' I smiled.

'Yeah, you're weird and you can cook. It's good enough for me,' Craig added and smiled.

I waited in the hall, not wanting to go up while Craig showed the Doctor his room. They came back down.

'And listen, Mark and I, we had an arrangement. Where if you ever need me out of your hair just give me a shout. Okay?' I heard Craig and he winked knowingly, making me hide a smirk. The Doctor winked back.

'…Why would I want that?'

'Well in case you want to bring someone 'round, or girlfriend or…' He looked at the Doctor's attire. 'Boyfriend.'

'Oh I will. I'll shout. Yes. Something like, "I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS!"' The Doctor shouted.

I blinked. 'Yeah, you do that.'

'By the way, that—the rot—I've got the strangest feeling we shouldn't touch it.'

The three of us eyed the rot suspiciously for a while.

Three in the morning. It was three in the morning and I couldn't sleep. I didn't know why, probably nightmares. But what nightmares would keep me awake if I didn't have any? Craig should be snoring; he had that football match the next day anyway.

I tossed about in my bed, but I couldn't drift into slumber. I didn't have many nights like that, only a few. I sighed and went to pick up my –

Thump.

It came from upstairs. Why would he be awake at such an hour? I could ask myself the same question. Creeping upstairs, I went to see if everything was fine. Curiosity always gets the better of me. I knocked on his door lightly, and it opened with a creek. A figure peeked through the small gap.

'Yes?'

The dark hid his face so I couldn't see it properly.

'Everything okay? I heard a thump and thought you might have-'

'No, Mae. Everything's alright.'

'Really? I can help you if something's wrong.'

'No, I do not require any assistance. Not at the moment. You can go to sleep now. So sorry to disturb you.'

'It's fine,' I gave him a reassuring smile. 'Goodnight, then.'

'Goodnight,' he said and closed the door. I went back to my attempts of falling asleep.

Book. I could read a book, usually helps me to fall asleep. Taking the one I was currently on, I began to read. My vision blurred for a second. I forgot my reading glasses, so I put them on.

I don't know how many pages or chapters I read, but I read for a long time. Till I heard someone having trouble outside. I looked out the window and saw the Doctor pulling a trolley filled with god knows what. I got up and reached the front door before he did.

'Ah, hello Mae! You're awake.'

'I didn't sleep and it looks like you didn't either. Bit late to come from shopping, don't you think?'

'Well, thing is…' He stopped. Suddenly, he left the trolley outside and came in. He waved some metal wand in the air that buzzed. I knew why. Because the air felt so…strange and cold I didn't have the time to ask what the metal wand was.

'Doctor, I might be asking a strange question but, do you feel… weird?' I questioned.

'Yeah, I do. Weird. No – Strange,' he answered, with curiosity written all over his face.

'And the difference is?'

'Weird is sometimes associated with awkwardness while strange... Strange is interesting.' Honestly, I still don't get what he said. The Doctor took a quick tour of the place and came back. Pocketing the metal thing, he came back to where he left his trolley.

'What's wrong?' I asked.

'Err, draft problem. I fixed it. It was nothing,' he said, pushing the trolley up the stairs and into his room.

I looked down. Something told me that it wasn't a draft.

'But you, Mae,' he said making my heard jerk upwards. I thought he was going to tell me something important. 'Should sleep.'

'Same goes for you.' A tiny smile crossed my lips. 'Need any help?'

'Nah. Sleep tight,' he smiled.

'Night, Doctor.'

'Night, Wood.'

I went to bed, and pulled the blanket to my neck and hugged it. I finally slept.