Disclaimer: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA no, don't own it.

Not gonna lie. This was ridiculously fun to write. If you're ever stuck in an airport during a layover, just write a story with Strax. Instant cure of boredom.

Well, have fun with this!

Being a detective, Madame Vastra had a quick-witted mind that could put Holmes himself to shame. She could perceive the smallest detail, process it, and deduce its significance with efficiency and accuracy.

But even she was dumbfounded to see the Doctor talking to thin air. Then attempting to swallow as much of it as he could. Then... stroking it, the oddest look of reverence upon his face.

The shock lasted but a moment, for then Vastra began to contemplate every possibility of a logical explanation.

Option One: The Doctor had lost his mind.

Exhibit A: He was already halfway there as it was.

Exhibit B: The combined emotional stress of being in the presence of his future grave and losing Clara may have been enough to at last push him over the edge.

Exhibit C: He had just endured severe torture when the Great Intelligence ripped through his time stream, reopening every battle scar of his long, long life.

But no, she knew this man. The way he spoke and stood was no different than before. Besides which, she had seen him commit countless acts of sheer lunacy that in actuality masked true genius.

Conclusion: Her old friend was still perfectly sane. By his terms, at least.

Option Two: This was not the Doctor at all.

Exhibit A: Vastra had seen with her own eyes the Whispermen and their function, taking the form of whomever they choose.

Exhibit B: The Doctor did not seem himself of late. So much darker, so much sadder. After losing the Ponds, even with Clara's help, he became different. Too different.

But those eyes... still as contradictory as ever. Light and dark, warm and cold, living and dead. Simply not possible for an imposter to replicate.

Conclusion: Still the same Time Lord, equal parts lonely god and madman in a box.

Option Three: …there was no Option Three.

For the first time, Madame Vastra was at a complete loss. Not a single link could she find between the Doctor's odd behavior and the undetermined resolution.

Link...

Vastra nearly laughed. Who else but River Song could fool the Great Detective?

From there, everything became transparently clear. With a psychic connection, only the participants were aware of any visitor. And only River could procure that look from the Doctor, a mixture of regret, contentment, hostility, devotion. And Vastra's theory was only confirmed when the Doctor, with the same reverence as always, spoke his wife's name.

Conclusion: The mysterious enigma with whom the Doctor was engaging was none other than the mysterious enigma Professor River Song, his killer and lover. More contradictions, but it could not be any other way with this man.

Case Closed.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Being a nineteenth century maid who married her lizard mistress, Jenny was not inclined to judging others. But in this rather, er, unique case, even she was willing to make an exception.

The Doctor looked rather cross. But who was he cross with? He appeared to be holding something, but Jenny couldn't tell what it was. 'You're always here to me?' Who was there besides them? Oh no, he's got that look. The one he always used to have after he lost them. He's trying to act standoffish to hide his hurt. But it wasn't over Clara, she knew. He hadn't accepted that she was gone yet. Then who could it be? Wait, now he's leaning in and...

Oh, dear.

Jenny glanced cautiously at Vastra, but the detective seemed just as puzzled as she. And when anything puzzled Jenny's wife, she knew that something was really off, even for the residents of Paternoster Row.

But once the Doctor broke from... whatever it was that he had been doing, he was like a new man. The coldness melted from his face, and he was back to rambling and anxious about things that didn't truly matter in the end, before softening into the kindly old man he truly was. He was him again.

And there was only one person left who could do that to him.

Jenny had not the faintest clue how the Doctor could see and touch his long dead wife, but the sudden tenderness and longing that overcame her friend left not a doubt in her mind.

After all, she of all people knew love when she saw it.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Being a potato, Strax was not particularly clever. But as former commander of the Eight-Hundred-And-Sixty-Fourth Fleet of the Sontaran Empire, he could appreciate the strategic tactics of another engaging battle with a foe. Even when it was an invisible one.

First order of business, obviously, was to intimidate the enemy. The Doctor was doing a rather splendid job for such an inferior species (a race that did not willingly declare war... honestly). Clearly he was assessing for any weakpoints, yet also posing as an indestructible fortress that would be a death sentence to challenge.

When the chance of surrender was bypassed, the duel began. Time Lords appeared to possess a most unusual manner of combat, opting to use not a sword or blaster, but his own lips and tongue to penetrate his opponent's defenses. Strax supposed that this was in fact a rather fitting choice of weaponry, for the Doctor's parts required for oral activities must certainly be in excellent condition, given that he can never seem to keep it shut.

But wait, is the Doctor... retreating? He had only just begun! He had perfect form, magnificent stamina, and quite the enthusiasm for warfare that Strax was not accustomed to seeing upon his features, but recognized nonetheless. What in the Seventh System would cause him to back off?

What a shame. He was nearly on par with the capabilities of a Sontaran.

The Doctor's face reverted back to that of the pathetic weakling he was before, donning a look of sadness mixed with... what was that word? Adaption, affliction... ah yes, affection. After some words with the enemy that Strax did not much care to listen to, the Doctor turned back to his time stream, staring unafraid into a territory even a Sontaran would think twice to enter upon. But without a second glance the mighty warrior stepped inside to find the impossible girl once more.

Something managed to worm its way through every defense guarding Strax's battle-hardened heart. It felt completely foreign to him, yet all the same he instantly knew what it was. Concern.

But he was prompt to beat it down before it had the slightest chance of conquering the whole operation. All this affection talk was making him go soft. When he had been a mere sprout training for the military, he had been instructed to expel such emotions at once by shooting the nearest living thing in sight.

But since the nearest thing happened to be Jenny, he thought better of it. Even if she was an impertinent boy.