==Chapter One==

Future Imperfect

I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race – that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.

– Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

He focused on the new trip, because if he didn't, he'd collapse in on himself. The Doctor did not want to be alone. And Holmes and Watson were just amazing, perfect best friends and perfect traveling Companions—he didn't want to lose them so soon.

So here they were, spinning five billion years into their future to see New New York. One trip to the past, one trip to the future, and then… well, that's what the Doctor was desperately avoiding thinking about.

"So," said Watson, bemusement written on his features, "if we're going to New Earth, what happened to the old one?"

Oh. Oh. Like an idiot, he hadn't thought of having to explain that. "It's gone," he said quietly, gently.

Both humans looked stricken, and the Doctor's hearts ached for them. Earth's destruction was not like Gallifrey's, but still… Still, he knew what they were feeling. It was like taking Rose to Platform One, all over again.

Watson shook his head in disbelief. "How…?"

The Doctor managed a sad smile for his benefit. "Five billion years from your time, Watson." By anyone's standards, that was impressive—one of the longest-lived planets in the history of the universe. It figured, though, didn't it: that the planet would be as resilient as her people? "Already, your world was uninhabitable, held in stasis by the National Trust, and they could only afford that for so long. They had to let go… and the Sun expanded."

Holmes placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, expression somber. "It appears," he said quietly, "that even planets have a limited lifespan, old fellow…"

"Over five billion years," Watson breathed, and smiled faintly. "That is rather impressive…" He turned back to the Doctor. "And her people?"

The Doctor felt some of the sadness seep out of his smile, replaced with better memories. Memories of beautiful, brilliant new humans, fully human and fully alive and fully healthy. "Oh, you lot survive—you always do. Matter of fact, you blend in with alien races and then a new strain of good ole homo sapiens pops back up…" His eyes sparkled with remembered joy.

Watson chuckled silently, smiling in wonder. "Charles Darwin would turn in his grave…"

The Doctor laughed, then sobered—that particular adventure certainly hadn't started well. "And it began so evilly—all those poor people, locked away… But it all worked out in the end." He smiled solemnly and shrugged.

Holmes tilted his head, gazing thoughtfully at the Time Lord. "You were there, Doctor, weren't you?"

The Doctor nodded slowly, closing his eyes. "Only my second day in this lifetime… and I got to be more than a fighter." More than the jaded, tired old soldier that had just come away from a double genocide. "I got to be a healer. For the first time in a very long time…" He smiled softly, recalling the ecstasy of it.

That's right. Hey, there we go, sweetheart. Go to him. Go on, that's it. That's it. It's a new sub-species, Cassandra. A brand new form of life. New humans! Look at them. Look! Grown by cats, kept in the dark, fed by tubes, but completely, completely alive.

"…the Doctor was in."

Watson smiled back, then his brow furrowed. "Wait… 'this lifetime'? Should I even ask?"

The Doctor gulped, eyes widening. Bad enough explaining regeneration to Holmes—he really didn't want to do it with Watson as well. "Ahhh, maybe Holmes can explain that later! 'Cooos… look at that, we're landing!"

Even above the sounds of the TARDIS shuddering to a halt, the Doctor could hear Watson murmur to Holmes, "We'll add it to the list, shall we?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Holmes nod in resignation.

The Doctor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Never mind about me! You're in New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York! Out that door with you, now!"

The pair exchanged excited grins—couple of schoolboys, the two of them—and headed for the door. Grinning, the Doctor jogged after them. Watson stood back and gestured to Holmes. "Your turn, old boy!"

Holmes opened the door and stepped boldly out… into pouring rain. He exclaimed loudly in disgust, making both doctors laugh.

"Aw, c'mon, Holmes!" said the Doctor. "Bit of rain never hurt anyone!" Unless it was acid rain on three and a half dozen planets, but he wasn't about to mention that—this particular planet wasn't on that list.

Holmes turned up his coat collar, glaring at Watson as he did so. "Five billion years," he muttered, "and they still can't control the weather?"

"'Course they can!" the Doctor rejoined. "What fun would that be?" He brushed past the pair and headed right out into the rain—neither rain nor sleet nor snow nor any alien precipitation ever kept him from an adventure. "Come on—let's find some cover!"

Watson's amusement at his friend's first encounter with a new planet was becoming ever-so-slightly dampened by the driving rain – which was surprisingly warm, with a faint acrid smell that reminded him of Holmes' latest unfortunate chemical experiment. Shielding his eyes as they jogged along, he squinted upwards for a look at the sky, but found his view hampered by the tall brick walls of the narrow alley they were in. Next minute, they emerged into a wider alley, although just as dingy and full of rubbish.

"Need to find a news-board somewhere," he heard the Doctor mutter, sounding mildly nonplussed. "Something..."

Watson sighed – he hadn't exactly been expecting a Jules Verne utopia, but still... "I hate to say it, Doctor, but New Earth doesn't seem much different to the old one. Look at all this refuse!" Actually, their surroundings put him strongly in mind of the poorer quarters of Calcutta, only greyer.

"Hold on, hold on," the Doctor sighed himself, stopping by a blank display screen mounted on the alley wall and pointing the sonic screwdriver at it. "Let's have a look."

Several moments of whining buzz and a few encouraging thumps later, the fuzzy image of a smiling blonde woman came into view. "...and the driving should be clear and easy, with fifteen extra lanes open for the New New Jersey expressway." The image changed to a view across an ocean harbour of a city skyline, and Watson gaped at the scene: the buildings were taller than cathedral spires, gleaming silver under a clear, sunny sky. And the vehicles...! He had seen the occasional motorcar in his own time, even been fortunate enough to ride in one once; but he'd never seen anything like the sleek capsules that were soaring through the sky in quick succession with the grace of birds and three times the speed...

"Oh, that's more like it!" The Doctor's voice broke in on his rapt musings, holding a faint note of relief. "That's the New we had last time. This must be the lower levels, down in the base of the tower. Some sort of under-city."

Holmes groaned, sounding decidedly unimpressed. "I might have known we'd land in the slums..."

"Much more interesting!" the Doctor protested. "It's all cocktails and glitter up there. This is the real city."

Holmes sniffed the air in distaste. "Yes, it smells most authentic."

"Don't be such a sourpuss. Ah, the rain's stopping. Better and better." Watson had barely noticed the slackening downpour, still absorbed by the breathtaking view of the upper city. The Doctor leaned down beside him, smiling. "Like it?"

"It's stunning," Watson breathed, then turned to the Doctor, curiosity piqued. "You said 'last time' - you've been here before?"

The Doctor nodded slowly, his expression suddenly distant and faintly sad. "Those people I was talking about? That was here. New Moon Hospital..."

"How long ago was that?" Watson asked, pretending not to notice the look. "For them, I mean."

The Doctor snapped out of his reverie with a shrug. "Oh, it's been a good century, I think…"

"Doctor, this might sound a bit of an odd request..." Watson smiled, "but could we visit the hospital? I would be most interested to see just how far mankind has advanced in the field of medicine."

He was mildly surprised when the Doctor winced. "I don't exactly care for hospitals – ironic, I know. And..." His hesitant expression took on a tinge of concern. "Watson, are you really sure you want to do that? See the advances that have been made and then go back to your own time with Victorian medicine?"

"I am very much aware that the practices of my time are extremely archaic, Doctor," Watson sighed. "So, yes – I believe I truly would find it inspiring to see firsthand the heights that healers will one day reach."

Just then, the three men were startled when a large hatch swung open in the wall next to them, revealing a thin man with a sparse beard, wearing a white coat and cap. "Oh! You should have said," he greeted them cheerfully. "How long you been there? Happy. You want Happy."

As Watson blinked in bewilderment at the mysterious vendor, two more stalls popped open on the other side of the alley. "Customers! We've got customers!" an older dark-skinned woman said gleefully.

"We're in business," a young woman called over her shoulder. "Mother, open up the Mellow and the Read!"

"Happy, Happy, lovely happy Happy!"

"Anger. Buy some Anger!"

"Get some Mellow. Makes you feel all bendy and soft all day long."

"Don't go to them, they'll rip you off," scoffed the first stallholder. "Do you want some Happy?"

"No, thanks," the Doctor replied flatly, his eyes now cold and hard.

Watson's own eyes were widening as he realised: "Are they... selling drugs?"

"I think they're selling moods," the Time Lord replied pensively, his expression radiating deep disapproval. Watson didn't blame him in the slightest!

"Are they not the same, in this case?" Holmes' dry remark only served to fan Watson's growing irritation.

"Don't start, Holmes!" he snapped, shooting the detective a sharp glare, then asked pointedly, "What was it last time: the cocaine or the morphine?" The morocco case in Holmes' desk drawer had always been a sore point between them – and if his friend even looked as if he was considering making a purchase here... He was astonished, however, to see Holmes looking vaguely discomfited... but before he could pursue the matter further, they were interrupted by the stallholders renewing their clamour as a young blonde woman entered the alley, dressed all in black.

"And what can I get you, my love?" the younger female vendor inquired, sounding revoltingly cheerful at having secured the first customer.

"I want to buy Forget," the girl murmured.

"I've got Forget, my darling. What strength? How much do you want forgetting?"

"It's my mother and father. They went on the motorway."

"Oh, that's a swine." Watson was mystified by the vendor's now-sincere sympathetic tone. "Try this: Forget Forty-three. That's two credits."

The girl handed over her money in exchange for a small square patch; the sheer hunger in her eyes sent a chill down Watson's spine. Still uncertain of whether or not to intervene, he was greatly relieved when the Doctor stepped forward. "Sorry, but hold on a minute. What happened to your parents?"

"They drove off," the girl said simply, as if the explanation were all anyone could require.

Holmes frowned as he too came forward. "Drove off where?"

"The motorway. Everyone goes to the motorway in the end. I've lost them." The young woman moved her shawl off her neck.

"But they can't have gone far," the Doctor interjected hastily. "You could find them. No. No, no, don't...!" But his words fell on deaf ears, and the girl placed the patch on her neck. Watson watched aghast as her mournful expression became an empty smile that chilled him to the core.

"I'm sorry," she said absently, "what were you saying?"

"Your parents. Your mother and father," the Doctor urged, sounding equally horrified. "They're on the motorway."

The young woman's vacant look didn't even flicker. "Are they? That's nice. I'm sorry, I won't keep you."

Watson shook his head in disbelief, utterly appalled by what they had just witnessed. "So... this is the future of the human race, Doctor? Drugging themselves senseless?!" He was, however, grimly pleased to note that Holmes was also frowning deeply as he watched the young woman drift away down the alley.

The Doctor swung around to face Watson, looking as angry and upset as he had in Bedlam. "You think I like it?"

Watson was about to reply, when he felt a sudden presence behind him. Before he could turn, both his arms were grabbed tightly, something was pressed to his neck, and everything went black...

Holmes heard Watson's grunt of surprise behind him and the Doctor's alarmed shout. He whirled back around and was horrified to see his friend collapsing into the arms of a young man; a woman of around the same age was tremblingly pointing some kind of firearm at Holmes and the Doctor.

"I'm sorry!" the young man said desperately, then started hauling Watson towards an open doorway, the woman close behind. "I'm really, really sorry!" The couple looked as scared as Holmes himself felt, but he was in no mood to appreciate that right now!

"Watson!" The doctor seemed unhurt, but limp as a rag doll, eyes closed. "Let him go!" Holmes demanded furiously.

"We just need three, that's all!"

"Whatever you want, I can help!" the Doctor shouted. "Both of us, we can help! But first you've got to let him go!"

"Please, don't do this!" Holmes pleaded, only kept from springing forward by the weapon in the woman's hand – his previous run-in with a Dalek laser had made him extremely wary of such things. "What do you want with him?"

"Just three!" The young man dragged his unconscious hostage through the doorway and out of sight.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Sorry," the woman repeated, sounding almost in tears. She too backed up through the door, slammed it shut after her and locked it.

"No!" The Doctor rushed up to the door, screwdriver already in hand.

"Hurry, Doctor!" Holmes shifted from foot to foot impatiently, barely keeping his rising panic under control. Every second was vital! After what seemed an age, the lock released, and the Doctor yanked the door open. The two men sprinted down a rubbish-filled corridor, Holmes right behind the Time Lord, boiling with rage. "Why wasn't he fighting them, what did they do to him?!"

"Used one of those patches – must've been for sleep!" They emerged onto a metal stairway leading down to yet another back street, just in time to see a larger, dingier version of the flying pods lifting off the ground in a cloud of vapour and speeding away.

"Watson!" A terrified Holmes started down the steps in pursuit, only to be pulled up short by the Doctor grabbing his coat collar.

"No, Holmes! You won't catch them by running!"

Holmes swung around, eyes blazing, fists clenched. "Then you had better help me find a way to catch them, Doctor, on the double!"

The Doctor nodded sharply, his own eyes smouldering. "Back to those vendors, then."

They returned to the alley with all speed. The three stallholders had closed their shutters at the first sign of trouble, but the 'Forget' vendor cautiously reopened hers when the Doctor pounded on it.

"Thought you'd come back. Do you want some happy Happy?"

"Those people who grabbed Watson – who were they?" Holmes snapped. "Where did they take him?"

"They've taken him to the motorway," the first vendor supplied.

"Looked like carjackers to me."

"I'd give up now, darlin'. You won't see him again."

"Used to be thriving, this place," the first vendor sighed, glancing around the all but empty alley. "You couldn't move. But they all go to the motorway in the end."

"The man kept saying they only needed three," Holmes said sharply. "Why three?"

"It's the car-sharing policy, to save fuel," the 'Forget' vendor explained. "You get special access if you're carrying three adults."

"How do we get to the motorway?"

"Straight down the alley, keep going to the end, you can't miss it. Tell you what," as Holmes turned to follow the woman's directions. "How about some happy Happy? Then you'll be smiling, my love." And if looks could kill, the vendor would have turned into a pile of ash that moment under the detective's vicious glare.

"Word of advice, all of you," the Doctor growled, speaking for the first time since their return. "Cash up, close down, pack your bags."

"Why's that, then?" The vendor's tone held a distinctly apprehensive note.

Unable to wait another moment, Holmes turned on his heel and strode swiftly on down the alley. He could hear the Doctor's voice clearly behind him, low but full of barely-controlled fury. "Because as soon as we've found him, alive and well – and we will find him alive and well – then I'm coming back. And this street is closing – tonight!"

Author's note from Ria:

As you may have already guessed, this is the second (but also the last!) adventure which follows the original episode this closely. We promise there are good reasons for this, though, which will become apparent in the rest of the series to come. Keep your eyes open, and feel free to guess what those reasons might be in your reviews. (Hint, hint!)