Thank you all for the lovely first reviews :) I'm very happy that you already like the story. A little note before the next chapter. The guitar the Doctor is holding in the promo pictures for the season finale is an Epiphone SG Pro (probably a custom limited edition or a tinkered with guitar) but since Epiphone didn't even build these kinds of guitars before 1989 I couldn't use it for my fic. Even the Gibson SG, the model the Epiphone SG was based on wasn't built before the early 60s. I wanted my story to begin in the late 50s for reasons which will become apparent later in the story so I sat down and thought about what I was going to do with the guitar and decided to stay guitar-historically accurate and leave out the mention of the model. You can imagine John Smith owning an early Les Paul if you're into guitars ;)
Oh, and next update will probably be on Sunday (due to work).

Chapter 2

It was already dark when they arrived at the house but still John noticed how some people passing the two of them looked at Clara as if they were disgusted by her presence. He wondered why that was because she had been nothing but nice to him ever since his arrival. Clara unlocked the front door and led him inside.

"The landlord lives here," she said and knocked on the door that was right next to the entrance.

John set down his heavy bags and straightened his jacket, brushing off a bit of dust that had gathered there on his way here. The landlord, a severely overweight man in his 60s, opened the door shortly after.

"What is it?" he barked at Clara.

Apart from the other waitress he seemed to be the first person who treated her normally even though he made a lousy first impression otherwise.

"I found you a tenant for the upstairs apartment," Clara said, her voice sounding tired or annoyed and John could tell that she hated the man.

"Hello, I'm Dr John Smith," John said, extending his hand but the landlord never shook it. Instead he only looked at him disdainfully.

"A doctor?" the landlord huffed, "You'd think fancy folks like you could afford better than this. You got any money, Smith?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Good. Give me the money and you'll get the key. I collect the rent on every Friday. If you're overdue that means I get interest. You lose the key you'll pay for a new one. No noise, no parties, no pets and no damage to the apartment or the furniture. Got it?"

"Got it," John replied.

The landlord vanished inside his apartment again to find the key, leaving him and Clara alone on the corridor.

"Charming fellow," he commented.

Clara only shrugged. "Beggars can't be choosers. No one else wanted me. And at least he's cheap, so I'm not complaining."

John was about to open his mouth and ask why everyone was treating her the way they did when Clara spoke again.

"Listen, my feet are killing me and I'm exhausted. I'm going inside. See you around?"

He nodded quietly and smiled at her. "Thank you for your help."

"No problem," she said and turned on her heels to walk up the stairs. He heard as Clara opened another door before her steps vanished inside one of the apartments.

The unfriendly landlord came back a few moments later and they exchanged cash and keys before he told John to follow him upstairs.

"Don't you need my signature or anything?" he asked suspiciously.

"Listen," the landlord turned around mid-stairs, "I'm giving you a cheap place to live. I don't ask questions. I don't even want to know anything about you. I don't care about your name, your past, your skin colour, your job – money is money. As long as you don't cause me trouble you can stay. If you do you'll find your ass on the street. Understood?"

John swallowed and nodded before he continued to follow the man to his new apartment.

"There it is. Have a nice stay," the landlord said grumpily, "If anything breaks don't ask me to fix it."

John stepped inside the flat and the first thing he noticed was a strange smell. He stepped across the living room to open the windows and realized that the carpet had probably seen better days. The entire place was small and shabby, with one bigger room serving as living room, bedroom and dining room in one, a smaller kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. Yet John decided that it would do for now and after a good cleaning it could maybe even become cosy. He could still find a better place to live later when he was making money again and he decided that he would go out and try to find a new job the very next day. The only person John felt slightly sorry for was the sweet waitress. There was obviously a reason she couldn't find lodging anywhere else and she depended on people like their unfriendly landlord.

With a sigh John sat down on the bed and started opening his bag. Carefully wrapped between his clothes he found his amplifier which he plugged into the nearest socket. He turned down the volume so as not to get kicked out for making noise on his first day before he unpacked his guitar as well and started playing.

OOO

Clara had changed into more comfortable clothes and forced herself to eat a small sandwich before she settled on her bed, determined to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Some days were better than others but today had not been one of them. She pulled the necklace out from under her shirt and admired the ring dangling at the end of it. It often gave her comfort but today it only managed to make her feel lonelier. Today it only reminded her of how alone she truly was. It was her birthday and no one even knew. Of course, she could have asked Carlene to go out with her after her shift ended. Carlene would have never said no because she felt sorry for Clara and pity was the last thing she wanted.

Twenty-nine. She should have been married with kids by now, she should have finished her education instead of still working in a diner for minimum wage but Clara had come to realize that she would never have any of those things. No husband. No children. Not the career she had wanted and as long as she lived here she wouldn't have friends either.

Suddenly Clara thought she heard music coming from upstairs and she remembered that John Smith had arrived here with a guitar case. The volume was too low for her to recognize the song but it sparked her curiosity.

Clara got out of bed again and exchanged her pyjama bottoms for a skirt. She grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and headed upstairs, deciding that spending the evening with a friendly stranger was still better than spending her birthday completely alone. The music stopped when she knocked on his door and a few moments later John Smith opened the door.

"I'm sorry. Was I too loud?" he asked immediately, a look of worry on his face.

"No, not at all," Clara said and held up the beer she had brought, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," John held the door open for her and closed it as soon as she had stepped inside.

Clara looked around and the place looked exactly like her own apartment, just not quite as clean but John was hardly to blame for that.

"Come to see my impressive new apartment?" John asked her jokingly.

Clara looked up at him, a shy smile on her face. "Actually, it's my birthday today and I don't want to spend it on my own. As you might have noticed I don't have a lot of friends around here."

"Your birthday?" John's eyes widened, "Don't you want to go out and celebrate?"

"No," Clara shook her head, "I'm not keen on people's looks right now. But a bit of company would be nice."

"Okay," John nodded, "Why don't you sit down?"

She sat down on the bed or couch or whatever it was and admired the guitar propped up against the wall. It looked elegant and expensive and Clara wondered if he would play something for her if she asked him.

A few moments later John came back from the kitchen with a bottle opener with which he cracked the beer open before he handed one of the bottles back to Clara ad sat down next to her.

"Why do people stare at you like that?" he asked suddenly before he took a sip.

"I don't want to talk about it," she replied immediately, "Not today. Not right now."

"Okay," he nodded understandingly.

"It's nothing bad, " Clara reassured him, "At least it shouldn't be. For the people in this town however it is."

"It's alright. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Everyone's entitled to their secrets."

"It's hardly a secret if everyone knows," Clara gave him a weak smile before her eyes wandered to the guitar again, "Would you play me something?"

"Sure," he replied and set his beer down on the coffee table before he reached for his guitar, "What would you like to hear?"

Clara shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever you like."

John adjusted the guitar in his lap and after a moment be began playing "Happy Birthday" for her. She watched in admiration as his hands flew over the strings and clapped when he had finished.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, "That's the nicest thing someone has done for me in a very long time."

Clara enjoyed being around him. Some moments she thought there was something about John Smith that felt familiar but she knew that it was only due to the fact that he was nice to her and she had missed that. She had missed being treated like a normal person more than she let on. Clara's friendliness and her indifference to the way people looked at her and treated her was nothing but a mask. Behind it she was lost and lonely and sad and in desperate need of a friend.