The front desk of the hospital was in chaos. As Sam, the Doctor, and Clara approached the desk they were surrounded by security.

"What did you do?"

The Doctor had the decency to look a little sheepish. "We may have run off after inquiring about the missing body."

"I don't even know you, but that wouldn't surprise me." She pulled her badge from her white coat and showed it to the guards. "Its fine, they're with me."

"Are you sure, doctor? Another body's gone missing. Can you account for their whereabouts for the past twenty minutes?"

"Carl, I assure you. They have not been to the morgue." The guard nodded and motioned for the rest of his group to back off. "Thanks."

She greeted Parker, the on duty nurse at the desk. He updated Sam on the situation while eyeing the Doctor suspiciously. "Doc, it just disappeared. Dr. Carney went on his break and came up here to chat, but when he went back downstairs, the body was just… gone."

Sam turned to the Doctor. "You're taking the lead, Doctor. What do we do?"

"I need to see the morgue. If this pudding brain," he indicated Parker ("Hey!), "would have let me down there without alerting what passes for security, we'd hav-"

Clara clamped her hand over the Doctor's mouth. "May we see the morgue please, Dr. Pryor? Doctor, shut up."

Sam fought back a smile. "I'll take you down." She turned to Parker. "Can you page Dr. Johns and have him meet us down there as soon as he can? Thanks."

"Sure thing, doc."

As they made their way down the flight of stairs to the basement morgue, Sam observed the Doctor and Clara as much as she could leading the way. They whispered furiously at each other, and Sam strained to hear enough to glimpse that the Doctor had done something Clara did not approve of. But the thing that struck Sam the hardest was how it seemed there was a gravity between the two pulling them together and that they seemed to be fighting it as much as their counterpart.

They were as opposite as could be, the Doctor and Clara, as first impressions go. Clara, the more rational, was very young and very small. She appeared to be about five or so years younger than Sam and about as many inches shorter if it weren't for her heeled boots. The Doctor, on the other hand, towered over the both of them and appeared to be in his mid-fifties, although his behavior at times reminded her of a five year old. His eyes belayed years of experience and Sam could guess that not all had been pleasant.

Their argument apparently over, Clara drifted forward to walk with Sam.

"So Clara," Sam began.

"How'd I end up with the Doctor?" Clara's eyes twinkled. "I get asked that a lot."

"Was he a professor or something like that? It's just the two of you…don't match."

Clara laughed. "Oh no, nothing like that. He just sort of fell out of the sky, and really that's a surprisingly accurate description. He solved a mystery of sorts near my home and I just stuck with him."

"Is he really an- an alien? He looks so human."

A muttered grumble of "I don't look human! You look Time Lord" came from behind them.

"Be nice, Doctor! He can be a bit touchy at times. But yeah, he really is a 2,000 year old alien man-child with a time machine."

"A time machine?!"

Clara nodded. Sam blinked in bewilderment as they approached the doors to the morgue, where she was prevented from saying anything else. She flashed her badge at the security guard at the door before leading the Doctor and Clara through.

Dr. Carney, the coroner, sat on a stool in a dark corner. He was a frail older man, a particular favorite of Sam's, nearing retirement. Sam could tell he was taking this matter to heart.

"George?" she called softly. "George, you okay?"

"Oh Sam," he sighed. "Sam, forty years I've been doing this job. Forty years, and I have never lost a body, and now, in three days I've lost two."

"George, it's not your fault. No one thinks it is either." She crossed the room and put her arm around the older doctor. "George, I've brought some people who are going to help us figure out what's going on."

That statement seemed to stir him out of his stupor. Dr. Carney stood and straightened his jacket, shaking the Doctor and Clara's hands in turn as Sam introduced them.

"Doctor, why are we down here?" Clara asked as he began waving his tool around the room. "I mean, we know they eat," she shuddered, "the dead, so why are we here?"

The Doctor paused his work to look at her, all previous arguments apparently forgotten. "If the sonic can catch a trace of the parasite, I can lock onto its signature and we might be able to trace it."

Sam was confused. "Sorry, what's a sonic? Is it that tool thingy?"

"Sonic screwdriver," the Doctor waved it at her as he passed by, scanning the room. "It can scan biological signs, unlock things. Basically your all around multitool, but better because it's sonic. AH HA!" He ran over to an autopsy table. "Gotcha!"

Dr. Carney cleared his throat. "That's the table where the body went missing today."

"Autopsy table turned dinner table," a deep voice boomed from the door. A tall, dark skinned man strolled through the room over to Sam and Dr. Carney. "I see you've found the cause of the disruption upstairs, Sam."

"Yeah, just a bit of a misunderstanding. This is the Doctor and Clara. They actually have a few questions for you, John, about that weird patient you had the other day? Doctor, this is my colleague, Dr. Kamwimbile Johns."

"Tell me about your patient."

"Well, he was a man in his late forties, claiming to be suffering from intense physical pain and migraines. His behavior was erratic, he was running and throwing things, but once he was finally restrained, his blood pressure readings were barely readable they were so low. But the thing that really caught my eye were his. The sclerae were bright yellow and his irises were scarlet with a ring of white in the center. Wait, are you trying to say that this man ate the missing body?"

Clara narrowed her eyes. "Hang on, how did you know about the body being eaten?"

"You mentioned it to him," John pointed at the Doctor. "I was here for a while."

Sam quickly filled in John about the parasite, to which he had a similar reaction. "John, what did you do with your patient?"

"I sent him to observation. With his blood pressure, I couldn't give him a sedative, but with his behavior…"

"You couldn't very well let him go. Good decision, Doctor, you may have either saved us or doomed us all." The Doctor put his hands in his pockets, flashing the red lining again. "Take me to him."

"That doesn't sound ominous at all," Dr. Johns muttered. "He's on the third floor. Follow me."