It's been a bit of a while…moving house, sorting out something to type on. It's given me time to plan this new fic though. I hope you enjoy it.
The Doctor and the Angels - Chapter 1
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The Tardis door opened and the Doctor stuck his curly head out into the hazy afternoon.
"Are you sure about this, Sarah?" he inquired of the slim girl who had stepped out beside him. She basked for a moment in the unusually warm summer sunshine and nodded her head resolutely.
"Yes, of course. I've been here before after all."
He tilted his head in acknowledgement and watched her walk away between the gravestones, picking her way through the long grass and stopping to pluck a few wildflowers from the overgrown areas surrounding the older graves.
The Doctor considered her; he had once heard her described as an 'old soul' and while he dismissed the theory behind such a notion as patent nonsense (ironic given his own species' habit of moving from body to body), he appreciated the sentiment. At times like this, though, he was reminded of just how young Sarah Jane Smith really was. She was wearing a short shift dress that barely skimmed her tiny frame, a pair of cowboy boots and a scarf tied round her head to keep her long hair away from her face. From the back she could easily pass as no more than fourteen and not for the first time the Doctor wondered at his own selfishness in keeping her with him when she would be so much safer here, in the right time and place.
She came to a stop at a gravestone some distance away and carefully laid the wildflowers she had gathered along the crook of her arm. From the tilt of her head and the set of her jaw, the Doctor could tell she was talking. He turned away to give her some privacy and set about amusing himself by wondering amongst the gravestones, reading the epitaphs. Almost without exception the Doctor found this type of place calming, no matter what the planet; a welcome escape from the chaos of his own existence.
As he approached a relatively new looking grave something started to tug at him; an almost tangible aura surrounded the headstone, as though an invisible fog of electricity emanated from it. The Doctor furrowed his brow, stepping closer to read the words engraved in gold lettering upon the black marble.
'Edward Thomas
Born 1st March 1986
Sadly taken from us 17th July 1974, aged 72 years.'
The Doctor stared for a moment, certain that this must be a simple mistake. But this was no weathered stone that had lost its clarity; the dates were as clear as print on a newspaper headline. And somehow his time sensitivity was telling him that the dates spoke the truth. He stood for a moment, deep in thought until he became aware of Sarah's presence at his elbow.
"What is it?" she asked, following his gaze. "Oh…oh!" she exclaimed as the penny dropped.
Privately the Doctor felt the little twinge of pride that nudged at him whenever one of his human companions understood something without him having to spell it out. Outwardly he shrugged.
"Worth a little investigation, wouldn't you say?" he suggested, turning to Sarah with a characteristically wide grin.
Sarah rolled her eyes but was unable to contain the twitch of her lips as she tried not to smile.
"But not now;" the Doctor suddenly stated, his face falling.
"What? Why?"
"Because someone else is calling."
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A promising beginning, I hope. Do let me know what you think.