A/N: Again, I'm terribly sorry that I haven't been on in ages _ This is a short little diddle, but I 100% plan on writing more chapters, which I can most likely get up very, very soon. So, as always, sit back and enjoy!
Nobody moved in after the Ramos family. By then, word had spread that the murder house was 100% haunted and while they had the occasional delinquent breaking in, and of course, Constance, no one wanted to have anything to do with the house.
Tate met a very similar fate. Violet refused to see him, he avoided Nora now that she had given Vivian's baby back to her and while he saw the other ghosts around the house, they didn't interact with one another. He spent most of the rest of his eternity pining to see Violet and moping around the house. Until he found the blue box.
It was a tall, bright blue, phone booth looking box in the basement and he had no clue why, but Tate decided to knock on the door. But before his knuckles met the blue wood, the door flung open, revealing a gangling man wearing a tweed jacket and a red bowtie. A bowtie of all things.
"Hello! Is this the Taj Mahal? It doesn't look much like it. Incredibly dreary…" the man piped in an English accent. He stepped out of the box and observed his surroundings. "Definitely… Not the Taj Mahal. Not that Taj Mahal…" he muttered to himself.
"Who the fuck are you?" Tate asked, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm the… Head of the… Sanitary Department…? Really? Anyhoo, I need to check your facilities," he explained, nonchalantly flashing a piece of blank paper at Tate. "That paper's blank and this isn't the Taj Mahal, it's the murder house. Who are you, really?" Tate asked. "It's not blank! It's- Hang on, how did you know it was blank? You're not supposed to know it's blank," the strange man inquired.
"I'm dead," Tate shrugged, "Now, who are you?" The man smiled and pocketed the papers.
"Hello, dead. I'm the Doctor."
And that was the moment Tate knew that the Doctor was possibly more insane than he was.