The only way to describe the morning so far was 'bleak'. The sky was the sort of featureless grey that seemed to permeate downwards, infecting everything beneath it with an equally featureless melancholy. If it had been a little lighter, the day could have perhaps been almost pleasant, or at least bearable; a little darker and there would have been at least the threat of rain and the feeling of something, even if it was just annoyance at having your day ruined by a turn in the weather. But instead it was simply grey, and bleak.

It probably didn't help that the wharf was deserted; whatever extra energy that a bustle of people going about their everyday business might have brought to it being completely absent. There was absolutely nothing of interest about this particular day and this particular location. Which is why, if there had been any one around to witness it, the sudden stirrings of a deep wheezing and groaning sound that seemed to come from nowhere and the subsequent fading in to existence of an antiquated Police Telephone Box would have been quite the shocker.

'Oh, to be in China now that November's here.'

The shocks just kept coming as next, from out of the box came a small and somewhat rumpled man in a scarf and Panama hat, speaking in a Scottish accent as he practically skipped out of what should have been the extremely tight interior of the Police Box. Following along behind him was a young girl dressed in a leather jacket adorned with badges and pins. The former was the Doctor, currently in his Seventh incarnation, and the latter his travelling companion, known affectionately by the nickname of Ace (and much less affectionately by her real name of Dorothy).

'When was the last time you had that junk heap in for an MOT, Professor?' she asked, looking around her at the distinctly non-Chinese landscape. Behind them rested a familiar looking clipper ship in dry-dock.

'Oh don't be cynical, Ace, the instruments are just a little erratic, that's all,' the Doctor replied, waving his hands about in what was presumably meant as a dismissive gesture. Ace was not to be put off however and pointed out the ship they were walking past just in case he hadn't noticed it yet. 'Great wall of China? Looks more like the Cutty Sark to me!'

The Doctor looked around, the reality of their surroundings finally sinking in. 'Mmm... And not a soul in sight,' he added. His curiosity piqued, he spied a newspaper that had fortuitously been abandoned in a nearby rubbish bin. Giving the paper a bit of a flick to remove the remaining detritus of someone's recent meal of fish and chips, he quickly scanned the front page for the date. '1973? I didn't set the co-ordinates for 1973.'

Ace rolled her eyes. It seemed to her like he never managed to get the co-ordinates right. Still, there was something strange about this place; it was way too quiet for a start. The Cutty Sark was a popular attraction, and this close to the centre of Greenwich there should at least be some people about. 'Oi, is anybody there?' she called out, walking further along the length of the dry-docked clipper. Dropping the paper back into the bin, the Doctor followed along behind her, turning the situation over in his mind.

'If I didn't know better, I could be convinced that someone had deliberately taken us off course... Ace, what are you doing?' While the Doctor was thinking out loud, Ace had stopped to examine a nearby street sign. CUTTY SARK GARDENS – SE10. At least they knew where and when they were...

(Suddenly...)

(Time jumped like a needle skipping in the groove of a forgotten record...)

Ace blinked. The sign now read ALBERT SQUARE. Startled, she looked up at the Doctor for explanation, only to get an even bigger surprise when she realised that the Doctor she knew was gone and in his place stood a taller man with a shock of curly blonde hair and a far more shocking frock coat; it seemed to have been pieced together from a thousand different pieces of fabric, each more garishly coloured than the last.

'Here, you're not the Doctor,' Ace said, eyeing the stranger suspiciously.

'Yes I am, Ace,' the man replied. In actuality, he was the Doctor as he appeared in his sixth incarnation. Loud and domineering, he had a tendency to sweep people up in the wake of his personality, much like a Tsunami or some other natural disaster. 'We seem to have slipped a groove in time. Where did all these people come from?'

So engrossed in this strange new version of the Doctor's choice in attire, Ace hadn't even noticed that they were now suddenly surrounded by throngs of people going about their ordinary, everyday business. In fact, as the sign had indicated not only had the Doctor changed appearance but they had changed location as well. The Albert Square Markets were in full swing.

While the Sixth Doctor examined a piece of fruit at a nearby stall, Ace's attention was caught by a rack of jackets. Maybe there would be something she could get for the Doctor to wear...

'Hey Professor, look at this!' she said, pulling out a mustard coloured overcoat. Spying a potential sale, and an attractive enough looking young girl, the stall owner sauntered over, placing an arm nonchalantly over the clothes rack.

'All right darling, special discount for you seeing as it's nearly Christmas,' he said, giving Ace a smile. 'Wicked,' Ace replied as she pulled off her own jacket and slipped into the new one. Having overheard this exchange, the stall owner's wife needled him in the ribs.

'What do you mean, discount?' She whispered, 'The years been bad enough as it is without you giving things away, Sanjay!' Sanjay laughed and placed what was supposed to be a reassuring hand on his wife Gita's shoulder. 'Don't worry about it, alright?' Gita wasn't so easily placated, but a sale was a sale and she quickly buried her worries beneath her best sales woman smile.

'Hey, do you like that love?' she asked, turning to the two potential customers in front of her. Even if the girl wasn't interested, the man certainly looked like he could be talked into buying anything...

The Doctor placed an arm up against Ace's new coat. 'It clashes!' he said, prompting Ace to make a face. If it didn't clash she would have been worried. 'They're going to be the rage next year in 1994!' Gita continued, still hoping to convince them. But the Doctor wasn't convinced... in fact, he was more concerned than ever as what she said sunk in. If next year was 1994, then this year was now 1993, but that would mean that they had jumped in time as well as space. He turned to the female stall owner, opened his mouth to ask her to repeat what she had said...

(His question went unasked and unanswered, however, as time jumped again)

'What happened?'

It was someone else asking the questions now. Another of the Doctor's companions stood where Ace should have been; the red-haired young woman Melanie Bush. The Doctor had changed as well. Gone was the brash and colourful Sixth Doctor, in his place was the hawklike and patriarchal Third Doctor.

'Change,' he announced, seemingly unfazed by the sudden shift in his character and that of his companion. 'You, me, everything. It's as though someone were rooting through my personal time stream.' Although they were still in Albert Square, something had changed in where they were as well. Now that he knew what to expect, the Doctor could tell that they had shifted in time again from their last jump.

'But what on Earth for?' Mel asked. When she had been the Doctor's companion, she had travelled with him in his Sixth and Seventh incarnations. Although she had never met this version of the Doctor, she could tell instantly who he was, as if there were other sets of memories waiting for her to access. And hadn't she been someone else just before? Without a Time Lord brain, these time-skips were going to be hard for her to wrap her head around.

'Earth. Yes.' The Doctor considered this. Why was this happening here, in this dreary backwater of London's East End? What malevolent force held Earth in its grip this time, and for what purpose? Looking about himself, the Doctor spied an elderly woman attending to a nearby fruit stall. Could it have been the same fruit stall he had been contemplating in the previous time-jump? He supposed so – in a place like this, the more things changed more often than not the more they stayed the same.

'Excuse me, my good woman, but what year is this?' he asked, his manner all gentlemanly charm. It wasn't much use, however, as at that exact moment a teenage boy pushed past him, disappearing quickly into the crowd of people. 'Oi, you come back!' Pauline Fowler, the owner of the stall, called after him shrilly. ''Ere, he's just nicked an orange!'

'Shouldn't your Martin be looking after the stall?' Pauline's friend Kathy, who had been standing by gossiping, asked. Pauline wasn't a young woman, and with the way things were these days, it wasn't right that she should be left to mind the fruit and veg stall by herself, not when she had a perfectly capable son to pitch in and help.

''E's never 'ere when you want him,' Pauline sighed. 'I wish my Arthur was still alive.' Kathy shook her head in sympathy. The Doctor meanwhile, uninterested in hearing about the daily lives of these two elderly women, had started rifling through the various fruits and vegetables on display. Finally noticing the strange looking figure man-handling her wares, Pauline turned her attention on to him. 'And just what do you think you're doing? Stop messing the goods about,' she complained. 'Do you want to buy something or not?'

The Doctor held up a pear, turning it over in his hands cautiously as if it were an unexploded grenade rather than a piece of fruit. 'Well considering the quality of everything you have, madam, I would say that your prices are rather expensive,' he sniffed disdainfully. Pauline gave him a fierce look and was about to follow it up with a royal scolding but never got the chance as his attention was once again diverted by Mel calling him over to this time periods version of the clothes stall.

'I see flares are back in fashion,' Mel said, looking over a pair of lime green and black striped pants. Truth be told, she actually quite liked the look of them. Spying a potential sale, Kathy sauntered over from her gossip spot at Pauline's stall. 'Oh yeah,' she said, 'everything from the last century seems to be making a comeback. I just wish my looks were.'

'Last century?' The Doctor asked, wheeling around sharply to face Kathy and Mel.

'What year is this?' Mel asked, images of hoop-skirts and whale-ivory corsets making a comeback flashing ridiculously through her head.

'Oh don't you start,' Pauline replied, glaring at the pair of strangers. 'There's enough oddballs around here as it is.'

The Doctor's patience was rapidly coming to an end. 'Madam,' he forcefully repeated his question, 'what year is this?'

Pauline and Kathy looked at each other in bewilderment. Could it be that these two really didn't know what year it was? There was something in the man's voice, something both imperious and desperate at the same time which made them think these two weren't just trying to wind them up. They might be balmy but they seemed genuinely serious. Pauline and Kathy answered at the same time.

'2013!'