Disclaimer: I do not own the brilliance that is Doctor Who, sadly. I own loads of Doctor Who DVDS & novels, though…..
Prologue
She still remembered why she had ever even entered the dusty little music shop. It wasn't because she needed an instrument or anything; it was because of the shop's name. It was unique, and the sign was done in the bluest shade of blue that Clara Oswald had ever seen.
"Hello, dear." The shop lady said as Clara entered the place. "Need help finding what you need?"
"No, I'm just looking." Clara said. She hadn't been planning on it at first, but now that she was inside, she just couldn't help but look around. The walls were covered in paintings, and musical instruments sat everywhere. One of the paintings looked like a Van Gogh, but it couldn't have been, as the subject was a blue police box exploding, something that Van Gogh would never have painted. Another was a portrait of an Egyptian queen, with grey eyes and frizzy black hair, being waited on by…. Were those Romans?!
"So you can't fix it?" Clara Oswald asked the shop lady impatiently. She was no good at all with computers, and she couldn't find the internet anywhere!
The woman shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, dear, I can't." Then she smiled, as if struck by a sudden idea. "But I do know someone who can." The woman rummaged around for a second or two beneath the counter, before pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. She scribbled down a number, and then handed it to Clara.
"Call this number when you get home." The woman told her, her gaze strangely intense.
"What is it?" Clara asked skeptically. "A help line?"
The woman smiled then, a secretive type of smile, as if she had just set some big plan into motion. "Yes. It's exactly that. A help line. The best help line in the universe, in fact."
As she was leaving the shop, Clara thought once more about how odd it was that a music store also did tech support.
"And you have no idea who the shop lady was?" the Doctor asked Clara as he dashed around the TARDIS console. He wasn't as fast as his younger self was, but he still managed to do a good job of it.
"None." Clara replied.
The Doctor threw one last lever, sending them flying into the vortex. Then he looked up at her, excitement dancing in his icy blue eyes.
"Shall we find out?" he asked, and Clara thought about how she was still getting used to the Scottish accent.
"Let's." Clara said, smiling at her friend. The Doctor began running around the console once more, pushing buttons, hitting switches, twisting dials, etc.
After a minute, the TARDIS began to make that now-familiar wheezing sound that meant they were arriving.
The Doctor pushed open the door to the TARDIS, and stepped out in front of the shop, with Clara following after him.
"This is the one." Clara said, looking up at the sign. The Doctor followed her gaze, but when his eyes landed on the sign, he froze.
"Doctor? Doctor, what's wrong?" Clara asked.
"The sign." He managed to croak out, his Scottish accent sounding thicker than usual.
"What about the sign?" Clara asked impatiently, but instead of answering her, the Doctor just pushed past her and ran inside of the shop.
"Doctor? Doctor, wait!" Clara called out, racing after him. Once she ran into the store, though, it wasn't that hard to locate the Doctor. All she had to do was follow the path of destruction.
When she finally found him, he was near the back of the shop, scanning everything in sight with the sonic as he muttered to himself.
"Doctor, what are you doing?" Clara asked impatiently, but he just shushed her. So she rolled her eyes and began looking around. It wasn't long before her eyes landed on something completely out of place in the music/tech shop.
"Doctor, look at this." She called, as she moved to pick up the ancient blue book that sat on a counter. Holding it in her hands, she examined the design on the cover. "Funny." She said out loud, making the Doctor finally look up from his screwdriver.
"Funny? What's funny?" he asked.
"The design on this book." Clara said. "It looks like the TARDIS."
Those ten words had the Doctor moving faster than anything she'd ever seen before.
As soon as he got a good look at the book, though, he froze in his tracks, with a wide grin spreading across his face.
"I KNEW IT!" he shouted, although he didn't seem to be talking to Clara. "I knew it, as soon as I saw the name on the sign out front."
He began stalking around, first just in their general area, before beginning to search each and every aisle.
"The name, the artwork on the walls, the book, the cryptic messages – you beautiful, mad woman, you did it, you made sure I wasn't alone! It all adds up to one thing, only one thing!"
At this point the Doctor was starting to frighten Clara a bit. "Doctor, what are you ranting about?" she asked.
"Melody Pond, GET YOUR COAT!" he yelled, and then Clara heard it.
A snort of laughter.
The duo whirled around to see a curvy, gorgeous woman with gravity-defying frizzy blonde curls leaning in the doorway.
"Well it's about time, Sweetie." River Song said, as she greeted her husband once more.
Clara – one of her echoes – had apparently saved (unsaved?) River from the Library's database. Once the Doctor heard that, he picked Clara up in a hug, spinning her around. Clara just laughed.
"You've regenerated." River said, looking over his new face carefully. "You're all…. Mature now."
"I did." The Doctor replied. "And I am. I thought it might help, so now we look closer in age – even though you're still far younger than I."
"And Scottish!" River exclaimed, having not even processed what he had said just yet. "Oh, Mother would tease you so if she heard you!" Then what he said seemed to sink in. "Wait – you chose this form because of me?" she asked, astonished.
"Of course."
"But I was dead. We had done Darilium."
The Doctor just smiled at his bespoke psychopath. "Yes, dear, but you are still my wife."
And then they kissed, and would've gone farther if Clara hadn't reminded them that she was still in the room.
They chatted for another couple of minutes, before leaving that shop forever. As they left, Clara just took one second to admire that sign, that sign that had started it all.
"Of Melodies and Songs"