This is my first Doctor Who fanfic, so it may not be very good. I have had other accounts in th past, writing for stories like Twilight, Harry Potter, Hunger Games and Holby City. All reviews welcome. Anyway, on with the show...
23 February 1939
Dear Doctor,
As is it no surprise, Rory and I have been in New York little over a year, and we cannot stop thinking about `The TARDIS days` as we now call them. Jeez, that makes it sound like they were so long ago. They probably don't feel like it was so long ago in your time, but in ours, it seems like a different life, lived by two completely different people.
We have been doing ok, we have a small house with a white picket fence, just like Rory had always wanted. Rorys now training to be a doctor- can you believe it, Rory, a doctor! He's having trouble adapting to the old-way of doing things, and has suggested heart-transplant to a patient or two of his- they look at him like he's mad!
But I have been struggling to find something to occupy my time with- so I am going to write to you, Doctor. Obviously I can't send them to you, especially since the war has just started (it's 1939 Doctor) they check ALL the post now Doctor, it's honestly quite embarrassing the letter they must have read that I sent to Rory while he was away- but that's a different story, Doctor, I may tell you it one day... or not (how would I send them too you anyway, does the TARDIS have some special space address or something?) I will write a big stack of them, and give them to River when I feel the time is ready for you to read them. God, that makes me sound so old!
River has visited a couple of times, always bringing news about you- I hope that Clara is keeping you busy! She has brought the odd photo of you, an you haven't changed a bit Doctor. The years are too kind to you, I mean if any normal person was 1000 years old of whatever you are now, they did be rotating pieces of bone but obviously now you Doctor.
I hope you don't dwell on us too much Doctor. We miss you terribly, and all the great adventures we had with you Doctor. I am writing that book as we speak, but it is slightly harder than first expected, as I hate type-writer's and writing 195 pages by hand is actually quite hard!
Love Always,
Amy
