This is my very first Doctor Who story, so please be kind! I hope you enjoy, and I will try my very best to get my facts straight from the get-go.

*I do not own Doctor Who or any affiliated characters*


BANG!

The TARDIS jerked to the side with a sickly wheeze, sending a flummoxed Doctor soaring over the console room railing.

"No! No, no, no, not now, my beautiful box! I've actually got to be somewhere today!"

The TARDIS huffed skeptically. "Oi!" He retorted, stumbling back up the staircase and sprawling over the controls. "I don't remember you complaining when I sang you to sleep in the dust rings of Jupiter last night. Okay, not literally to sleep, but you powered down for a jot. And furthermore, you know full well I get stage fright!" His hands flew from lever to knob to crank, fingers dancing across the buttons with the finesse of a concert pianist, doing his best to soothe the savage beast, as it were. Because really, what fun was there in a tamed time machine? Well, except for right then.

A crack sounded through the air, prelude to the copious amounts of smoke that began issuing from beneath the glass floor.

"Oh, come ON! Now you're doing it on purpose!" He knew whining would get him absolutely nowhere, but he was at his wit's end. "What do you want, eh, Sexy? A little shine, a little engine oil? I know for a fact you adore that stuff, and all I'd need to do is drop down onto the nearest planet and pick up a tub or two. And I suppose I could-oh, shove it all-!"

The Doctor threw his hands up to shield his face as sparks erupted from the dash and a whatsit crashed from the ceiling onto his head. "You frightful thing! Just like a woman..." He smacked the swivel monitor out of his periphery and received a shock for his abuse. "Oh, fine!" he said sharply, "I'm sorry for the insinuation." He laid siege to the pain over his temple, rubbing circularly, while he surveyed the wiry mess of his beloved TARDIS, out of sorts and out of options. Metal coils and tubing poked out of unexpected places, looking for all the world like an industrial jungle gone haywire.

Crossing his arms defiantly over his chest, the Doctor flipped his hair out of his eyes before addressing his mistress. "I'll give you one last chance. Your navigational systems were in perfect working order until I entered the coordinates. Throw as many tantrums as you like, but I swear to you that when all is said and done, we are retrieving Clara and jettisoning off into the infinite depths of time and space, so you might as well roll over and let me be on my way."

A humming flared through the room, accompanied by theatrically flickering lights and more cheery sparks.

"Oh, that's right, scratch and claw, little kitten," the Doctor fumed. "What are you going to accomplish by stranding-"

He was abruptly cut off by the entire ship going black, a muted silence permeating the air.

"Brilliant."

Feeling his way to the staircase by memory, the Doctor cursed softly. "Of all days, why this one, eh?" His question went expectedly unanswered. "You're making me late, you know. Well, I suppose not. What sort of Time Lord lacks punctuality? A rubbish one, that's what. Then again, I suspect you'll drop me off on the wrong day. That will be just lovely, I can already see it. I'll lose the bet because of you, I will! One week of surveilance on Ganymede without interfering on Jupiter. But come on, really, talk about cruel and unusual punishment. The Jovians were practically begging for help! Marvelous race, Jovians. Thriving for thousands of years, then gone by the 24th century-"

He staggered as he reached the ground floor, expecting two more stairs. "Huh. That's different." He craned his neck and called into the blackness. "The back-up generators better be where I left them last or I'm going to put my screwdriver into some very unpleasant circuitry!" He smacked himself in the face. "Screwdriver! Oh, I am thick today." He dived into his jacket pocket, locking his fingers around the sonic wonder.

"Ah-ha-" He stopped mid-jubilation. Something was off. "What's this, now..." He gingerly pressed the button, but nothing happened. "What, no green shimmering, no gleeful buzzing? Is everything on this ship broken?" He yelled angrily.

He stretched his arm out, hoping to poke into something useful. Lucky thing about living on the TARDIS was that most things were dead useful. The way his day was going, though, he'd probably wind up with a fistful of Dalek probe.

Sssssssss.

An eerie hissing came from behind him. He swung sharply, pointing the screwdriver at the noise. "Fat lot of good you'll do me now," he muttered, twirling the metal stick like a baton.

He stashed it regretfully in his jacket, freezing as footsteps skittered by to his left. "Come out, you!"

He squinted reflexively, knowing that it wouldn't make a difference. "I know you're there, beastie," he whispered, then cocked his head to one side, frowning. "That might be incredibly offensive if you happen to be an intelligent lifeform. Alright, then, I know you're there...heretofore unseen sentient being. Come out, come out..."

Dooooctor.

Alarm shot up his spine, bristling along his neck and into his hairline. He stepped backwards involuntarily and let out a low whistle.

Someone-or something-whistled back.

The Doctor couldn't remember the last time something got in his TARDIS without his permission. It was somewhat irritating.

"Now wait just a minute," he started, pointing his finger at gods knew what. "This is a bit untoward, don't you think? Mucking about in the dark, stealing my whistles, trying to give me the jibblies. I rather think I'm not in the mood."

He strode forward a few steps, immobility driving him up a wall, when he bumped into something hard and metallic.

"What-"

He was leaning over the console controls, back on the upper floor.

Running a hand through his mop, he broke into an excited grin. "Disappearing stairs, creepy whispers, and a teleporting Doctor. Forget about being punctual, this just. Got. Interesting."