It was such a tiny blip, the smallest of anomalies on the TARDIS's scanners. Small though it was, it bothered the Doctor as he paced around the console room, mentally analyzing all of the readings again and again. He should have had an answer by now, but he had a hard time focusing. There was something distracting him, like a song he couldn't identify, returning to nag him time after time.
Lately, it had felt as though something was missing from his life. It was not a feeling that he had often, and it left him restless, and even more callous than his current incarnation usually was. It started at Trenzalore. No, before Trenzalore. After Amy and Rory had left? He had traveled alone for a long time, then. It was unusual for him to have lived with only himself for company for so long. Perhaps that's why he was so impatient with everyone. That answer didn't feel honest. He didn't know what he was missing. And his memories of Amy and Rory were a lifetime ago.
He felt a hum in the railing he was clutching as the TARDIS brought his attention back to the task at hand. The TARDIS had brought him here. He had been in the desert and he didn't have a destination in mind, so he'd suggested a random point in space and time. But like so many times before, the random location turned out to have something off about it, something to be investigated. He glared for a moment at the console.
"I know you're up to something!" he yelled into the air.
Regardless of the TARDIS's intentions, there were still those strange scanner readings to be investigated. That mysterious blip. And there was no sense hiding in this box all day. Time to see if anything could be spotted.
The TARDIS's doors opened into an alley. London. He didn't know how he knew. Something about the smell, or maybe the taste of the stone. Or maybe because it seemed like it was always London. He pulled out his screwdriver. The sunglasses would be handy right about now, but the screwdriver felt right in his hand. It fit. He flipped it on and switched it to the setting he was looking for. Spatial distortions.
An alley cat startled at the high pitching whirring sound, then meowed loudly. He glared at it from beneath his shaggy eyebrows.
"What are you looking at?" he said. The cat slunk away, chagrined.
That was satisfying. Now, back to the anomaly. It was right about here. About chest height. Tiny, about the size of his pinkie. He prodded it slightly with his finger. Cold. This was it.
The Doctor pondered. The readings he was getting were strange. He needed to figure out what was going on, or if there was a problem at all. Twisting a knob on the screwdriver, he aimed it at the anomaly, probing for what was on the other side. That was odd. There was something there, something physical. He adjusted the magnetic pull of the screwdriver, taking a moment to thank himself for the brilliant additions he'd made to it. There was definitely something on the other side, and he used the screwdriver like a master fisherman, reeling it in. It was closer, closer. The anomaly was warping now, changing as something came through it. He felt himself physically pulling on the screwdriver, even though all the force should be projected by the screwdriver itself. With a hard yank, he pulled the object the last of the way through into the alley.
He staggered backward as he heard a metallic clatter. There was no pull now, and he turned off the screwdriver and pocketed it. Looking around, it seemed like nothing in the alley had changed. He paused for a moment to think. Something was different. It was like playing one of those children's games with the pictures. What had changed? Anomaly? Still there. Cat? Hissing now, but still nearby. Trash bins? Yep. Wait. New trash. Something on the ground. There had been nothing in front of that bin before, and now there was an aluminum can on the ground.
He picked it up. It felt oddly cold in his hand. This must be it. It was dayglow green with a design of patterned dots on the side. There was a list of far too many ingredients.
"Really, who would drink this?" he muttered.
The tab had been popped already, and it was empty. He turned the can around to examine it, and felt an odd clench in his hearts as he stared at it. Written on the side in large pink letters was one word. VITEX.