The hum of Victorian era London always surprised the Doctor, no matter how many times he went there. As he and Sarah Jane walked through the stone streets, he couldn't help but feel a certain sensory overload.

People moved about in hurried groups, chattering amongst themselves. Most were bundled in overcoats, with top hats upon their heads, a symptom of the season of winter. Carriages rumbled noisily by at random, the clip clop of horse hooves echoing through the streets. Criers from all manner of buisnesses filled the air with their advertisements, each trying to drown one another out, while street venders haggled with customers. Although they had landed in one of the more kept areas of London, (The Doctor wanted to avoid Whitechaple at all costs), the air was thick with the smell of coal. Thick black clouds obscured the sky, drifting over from the industrial district. Regardless, a light snow still sprinkled down, giving the city that magical look that so many associated London with, even people in the far future.

Sarah Jane stuck close, but The Doctor caught the broad smile on her face. He knew she always loved this time period, and he couldn't blame her. He had spent a great deal of time here himself; whenever he felt lost, the smokestacks of old Albion were always there to welcome him home.

"I hope people don't notice how I'm dressed," Sarah Jane worried as they walked, "I don't exactly blend in."

"Don't trouble yourself, Sarah," he replied, shaking his head, "I came here in that unfortunate, multi-colored, monstrosity of a coat many times, and no one batted an eye." What he had been thinking to wear such a thing; if he ever ran into his sixth self, he'd have to give him a stern talking to about fashion.

"At least you fit in now," she motioned.

"I should, this was the first place I came with this body. Well, besides down the gullet of a T-Rex."

"How did you... I don't want to know," she chuckled, "so where are we going?"

"Thirteen Paternoster Row. I landed further away, fancied a walk." That was partially true; he hadn't meant to land the TARDIS so far away, but it was for the best. He needed to clear his head anyway.

He was troubled by a recent event, and couldn't sort it out in his head. The Daleks, and Davros, were only the most recent thing that was bothering him.

The month before, it had come to his attention a different enemy was out for his head, one he believed was dead. The Great Intelligence had made himself known, sending an assassin to a party he had gone to. The assassin had caused the deaths of all but three people in the house, not counting he, and Sarah Jane. The deaths alone had disturbed him enough, but the fact that such a dangerous entity had returned did not bode well for anyone. He had since tried to root him out, to little success. He had gone back under the radar.

Beyond that, he had noticed a pattern of dreams; dreams people should not be having. An Ice Warrior dreaming of Daleks, and a Puritan having fevor nightmares of Cybermen. Even Sarah Jane had mentioned in passing that her sleep was troubled by strange dreams of both of those creatures.

Her dreams could be explained; she had fought Daleks, Cybermen, and many of the other horrors the universe had to offer. The fact she didn't have nightmares all the time supprised him. It was a testament to her mental fortitude.

The rest though, he could not dismiss so readily. There was a pattern here, but he couldn't see how, or why. It all had to do with The Great Intelligence; he could feel it in his bones. But, aside from wanting him, he couldn't see his plan fully. He wanted to investigate it more, but his opponent was cunning. He used espionage, rather than brute tactics like the Daleks. He was harder to see. Usually, once one did, it was far too late.

He enjoyed lying to himself, and saying that was the only reason. Deep down, he didn't want to find him. He wanted to protect people yes, and stop whatever plot The Great Intelligence had against him. Yet, one thing held him back; the woman walking beside him.

He had been dragging Sarah Jane into danger since they first met, and he did not want to drag her into this. He wanted her to be safe, not fighting against Daleks, Cybermen, The Trickster, or Sutek. The paradox was not lost on him; he put her in danger just by being around her.

He knew what he should do. He should climb back in his TARDIS, and drop her off back on Bannerman Road, whether she wanted to go, or not. Just put her back into her life, just as he had all those years ago, the first time they travelled together. He had been protecting her then, too.

But, as he looked at his oldest friend, who was still beaming at the sight of old London, he knew he couldn't do it. He wanted her around. He had missed her for over a thousand years after he dropped her off. He missed every companion that left, but he felt her absence more acutely. She had known almost every regeneration of his, and he had known her for her entire life. That was a bond like no other. It couldn't be broken, and he, selfishly, didn't want to be alone.

"Paternoster Row, isn't that where we dropped off David?" Sarah Jane asked. The Doctor nodded.

"Yes, he is helping Vastra, one of my friends." He, and Sarah Jane had saved David from Puritan America not long ago. He was a victim of the witch trials conducted in a small town. In reality, the trials were a ploy, so the town Paster could feed an alien he was worshipping as a God.

"I wish you had let me meet your friends then," she groused.

"It was overwhelming for David, I didn't want to add to it." He had taken David to Vastra, not willing to let him die at the hands of the ignorant hicks in his own time. Vasta had taken him, as she did all who came to her door. Granted, it took some convincing to get David to not just run. Strax alone almost put him in a panic.

He had asked Sarah Jane to stay behind, mostly because he wanted to get David situated. Her being there would have complicated things. Not to mention, she had fallen asleep with her head on the console three times on the way there. She seemed to have forgotten that. He didn't need to bring that up.

He was broken from his train of thought by the crowd up ahead. About thirty people were gathered by the wall of a building, whispering among one another in hushed tones.

Ever adventurous, he began pushing his way to the front. He wanted to see what everyone was so concerned about. He hoped it was something interesting, and not a peice of toast shaped like The Queen, or something. Some humans were so enamored of things like that.

He felt Sarah Jane gingerly grasp his hand as he gently pushed past the people, obviously not wanting to miss the spectacle. He thought he heard whispers about "muderer," or "disappeared," only deepening his interest. He loved a good mystery.

Once he reached the front, he understood what everyone was looking at. A few boards of wood were nailed to the building, creating makeshift bulletin board. Across the top, in messy paint, was the word "Missing."

Below, were nearly forty pictures of people tacked to the wood through various means. Most were hand drawn sketches, most with names, and dates they were last scene beneath them. Others just written descriptions, some of which, gave only the barest facts. He even noted one or two grainy photographs, the top of the technology of the time, and a single tinplate. Some were so old they were too faded to read, while others were torn away completely, by angry hands, or an uncaring breeze.

It was obvious that this board was unofficial, and had been put up by the people, which made him wonder if the police were involved at all. He could see no discernable victimology; among the numbers were both men, and women, from a variety of neighborhoods. He noted most were white, but he saw a few Africans among them, and Asians as well.

He wouldn't have been surprised to hear of a few disappearances. Victorian London, especially in neighborhoods like Bowery, and Whitechaple, was a dangerous place to live. Gangs of thugs fought for control of the streets. The opium trade was becoming more volatile with the introduction of more potent strains of the drug, and widespread addiction to laudnum. Beyond that, it was not so long ago, Jack The Ripper stalked the streets, giving way to strings of copycat killings, and widespread paranoia.

But this was a shocking scale. To have so many people disappear, without a trace... something was not right. Had they been killed? Or mearly taken? And for what purpose?

"Doctor, what do you suppose this is all about?" Sarah Jane asked. He only shook his head, eyes boring into the board as though if he looked at it hard enough, it would give up it's secrets.

"Damn shame, that is," a rough looking sort complained next to the pair, "The Bobbys ain't doing nothin' bout it. They don't even believe no one's missin',"

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked him. He snickered disingenuously.

" I 'erd most of 'em was going to the spike. They say they probably just run off. No one cares 'bout the poor. They ain't gonna' do nothin' until one o' them rich jollylocks turns up gone. Then them muttenshunters will be hassling everyone who looks an 'em sideways." The man shook his head, and walked off.

"The spike?" Sarah Jane questioned.

"Derogatory colloquialism for the workhouses," The Doctor replied absently. He couldn't blame them. Workhouses were places of loneliness, and cruelty. The conditions were only just above prison. They were places where the destitute went when they had no where else to go.

"What do you think is going on? This seems wrong." She spoke alound what he felt. He wondered if The Paternoster Gang was looking into it. He doubted such a thing would escape Madam Vastra's eye. Either way, he would have to do some digging himself.

He tugged Sarah Jane gently out of the crowd, moving on. They were only a few blocks away from Paternoster Row.

The Doctor hated himself a bit, but he was mischievously looking forward to Sarah Jane meeting that gang of misfits. He doubted she was expecting to see a Silurian, or a Sontaran at all in Victorian England, let alone living together. She usually kept her composure in all situations, but he sometimes caught her off guard.

They turned the corner onto Paternoster Row, and began up the narrow street. This street was perfectly idealic; rows of Victorian Manor homes, well maintained by the residents. Horse drawn carriages clip-cloped up, and down the street, past the pruned gardens that seemed to bloom, even with the coming winter.

The pair continued along, The Doctor's excitement growing. He had spoken to Vastra about Sarah Jane many times. Not only that, to some extent, thirteen Paternoster row was like a home away from home to him. It would be good to return.

They arrived at the front door, both climbing up the front steps. The Doctor took hold of the ornate door knocker, and wrapped against the door. It took a few moments before the door finally creaked open. He heard Sarah Jane stifle a ghasp, and smiled.

The creature before them was shaped, and colored like a human potato. His bloodshot eyes were deep set, and his wide mouth attemping to smile, instead looking absolutely insane. Stocky, his stubby arms ended in three-fingered hands, and his stumpy legs made him far shorter than the average human. He wore a fine butlers outfit; completely out of place, being worn by a Sontaran like him.

"I am terribly sorry, but Madam Vastra will not be entertaining visitors today. Any who persist will be beaten severely," The butler stated, matter of factly.

"Hello Strax, it's good to see you too,"The Doctor grinned, completely ignoring his comment.

"Why, Doctor!" Strax exclaimed, "I didn't recognize you, you look absolutely terrible!" He now turned his attention to Sarah Jane. "And who is this frail young lad?"Sarah Jane barely missed a beat.

"Sarah Jane Smith. Pleased to meet you," she stuck out her hand to shake his. Instead, the alien only looked down at it, confused, then shook his head.

"No thankyou, should I require a thorough slapping, I will find someone else with the sufficient musculoskeletal structure to accomplish the job. Thankyou for your consideration," Strax nodded politely. Sarah Jane couldn't hide her open mouthed shock, The Doctor snickering at her.

"Strax, what are you doing? For goodness sakes, let them in!" A the high voice of a woman called. She soon came into view from one of the other rooms.

The pretty young woman was garbed in the outfit of a maid. Her brown hair was kept in a stylish up-do, out of her face, and she held a bemused look in her dark eyes. Though thin, and on the wan side, Jenny Flint would be considered attractive by most standards, belying the intellegence, The Doctor knew lurked beneath the skin.

Yes, ma'am," Strax nodded, then turned back to Sarah Jane, "I'm sorry young man, I'll have to frisk you for grenades."

"No, you don't Strax!" Jenny shouted, holding back a laugh, " How many times do I have to tell you, normal people don't carry around grenades."

"Ah,... are you sure?" the Sontaran asked incredulously, only finding a glare in return from Jenny, "ah... well, right this way." He stepped out of the way, allowing them entry.

"Strax, go clean up the kitchen, there's a puddle again."

"Shall I use the mop? Or shall I melt the floor?"

"Mop," Jenny replied dryly.

With a heavy, disappointed sigh, Strax toddled away, down the hall, and to the right. Jenny finially addressed the pair of time travellers, a sweet grin on her face.

"Hello Doctor! It's good to see you! Been awhile," she greeted, stepping forward, then turning to Sarah Jane. "And who is this? You've never brought her around before."

"This, is Sarah Jane Smith," The Doctor introduced, pride swelling in his voice. "Sarah, this is Jenny Flint."

"Oh goodness, I should have known!" Jenny exclaimed, "you look exactly how The Doctor described!" She suddenly drew Sarah into a friendly hug. "It's so good to meet you!"

"Same to you Ms. Flint," Sarah replied with a genuine smile.

"Oh no, call me Jenny. Any friend of the good Doctor's is a friend of mine. I hope Strax didn't give you too much trouble."

"He was a bit odd... but not the worst I've met..." Sarah trailed off. The Doctor remembered the other times they had run upon Sontarans; it had not been a good experience.

"That's becuase you don't live with him," Jenny joked, "my Wife is in the parlor if you want to see her. She'll be happy to meet the legendary Sarah Jane." Jenny led the way, down the narrow hall, to the room at the back of the house.

The sweet smell of flowers was nearly overwhelming here. As they walked through the doorway, they were met immediately by a jungle of plants. All types were present here, from cacti, and crotons, to massive snake plants, and flowered vines that krept up the walls. The winter twilight peeking through the windows gave the room an ethereal white glow, contrasting in a strangely alluring way with the plants.

Near by, a small coffee table was set up, with a few chairs near it. An ornate teaset was upon it, a sweet aroma escaping it, with puffs of steam.

Seated at the table was a refined looking Silurian woman. Her bright green scales, and knife like fins, were in sharp contrast to her wizened eyes. Her sharp teeth were like needles when she smiled at her visiters, rising from her comfortable chair. Her flowing, black, and purple Victorian gown helped her cut quite the stunning figure.

"Doctor!" She smiled, her soft, melodic voice filled with warmth, "how wonderful it is to see you again."

"Same to you Vastra, looking lovely as always," he replied. He had known this Silurian for a very long time. She had taken him in for a time, when he had lost Amy. He directly thanked her for healing him; despite that she came from a warrior race, and that she herself was both an excellent combatant, and detective, she was also incredibly kind, and caring. Perhaps that wisdom came from being older than the dinosaurs. Or maybe, it was just ingrained from the start.

"Oh my... you,"she smiled turning to Sarah, "you can only be one person. You must be Sarah Jane."

"Yes, I am," replied Sarah, seeming a tad surprised.

"Madam Vastra, at your service. Please, do sit. Have a spot of tea," the pair abliged, sitting at the table. Vastra poured Sarah Jane a piping hot cup, though The Doctor waved his off. He wasn't much in the mood for tea... maybe later.

"Jenny, do make up the guest rooms for our friends," Vastra asked, Jenny nodding a scuttling off. "The Doctor has told me much about you, I hope you know that."

"I didn't," Sarah smiled, "but it is good to know that I am so appreciated."

"What has brought you hear to my doorstep Doctor? I has been to long."

"Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood, running from Daleks, and I dicided to pop in, say hello." He did not want to ask her about the disappearances yet. He thought they should catch up first, a niceity he only saved for his best of friends. Most of the time, he prefered to shoot from the hip.

"It is curious that the pair of you arrived now," she seemed to think outloud, "another friend of yours is currently staying here."

"David?" Sarah Jane asked.

"No, though we have stayed very close. I've sent our other guest on an errand. He's been doing some work for me. I think you will be pleased to see him," Vastra replied. The Doctor wondered who it was, and why she was being so cryptic.

"Who is it?" The Doctor asked.

"You'll see, I believe I just heard him come through the front door," she answered.


Jack Harkness pulled his navy blue trench coat tightly around his burly shoulders as a chilly wind whipped through the Victorian streets. He straightened his neatly cut, brown hair as he walked. He couldn't go off looking a mess after all.

He turned down another alley, quickly jogging to the adjoining street. He set his lantern jaw, gritting his teeth. He wanted to get back to Madam Vastra as soon as he could, and relay what he found.

He pulled back the right sleeve of his jacket, looking down at the device on his wrist. A black bracelet, it was adorned with all manner of switches, and buttons, a few lights flashing on it. He supposed he could use his Vortex Manipulater. The portable Time Machine would take him there in no time flat, literally.

He pulled his sleeve back down. He was trying to use it as little as possible, lest he burn it out. He did not want to get stuck here after all.

Jack had come here from the future. It was originally at the behest of Unit; there had been a violent break in at Unit's Black Archive, and the theft of a Vortex Manipulator, similar to the one on his wrist.

This had led him to an unfortunate entanglement with Davros, and the Daleks. They had accused him of colluding with an old friend of his, The Doctor, on some kind of virus called the Heretic's Code. They put him in prison, knowing Jack couldn't die like most people. They assumed they could torture information that he didn't possess out of him.

That was when someone came to save him. Another Time Lord, this one calling herself The Corsair, broke him out. After escaping the Daleks, including the insane Dalek Caan, she took him to a deserted prison planet, and revealed her true nature.

She was from another universe, one destroyed by The Great Intelligence. She had since fought him over, and over, and he had devoured every universe the same way. She had said it was due to The Doctor regenerating into someone else.

Events were unfolding the same as the always had, except for the existence of Jack. He was dead in every other universe, but for this one. She believed he was the key too, not only saving The Doctor, but the universe as a whole. She had sent him here, to Victorian England, to find The Doctor, through his friends, The Paternoster Gang.

Jack had been staying with Madam Vastra, and her misfits for about two weeks. She had been expecting him when he arrived; some form of telepathic message he did not understand, was involved. Upon his arrival, he told her his entire tale, and as any ally of The Doctor's would, she agreed to help him.

She told him The Doctor always turned up here eventually, and she was an old enemy of The Great Intelligence. She had friends in both high, and low places, and had them watching for signs of him. She was also keeping her eyes out for The Doctor, or any of his friends.

In the meantime, he was helping her with some of her investigations. As a former time agent, he was an apt detective, and had a mind for espionage. It also helped keep his mind off of things.

The pressure weighed heavily on him. He, essentially, knew that the apocalypse was imminent, and if they didn't do the right things, it would happen. The Corsair made it clear she believed he was a key figure in this. He couldn't help but feel nervous. He was confidant in his skills, but the stakes were never higher. If he messed up, it could mean the end of everything. How could one not feel the pressure? If he didn't save The Doctor, as The Corsair said, it could doom everyone, and everything. It was a humongous weight.

His ears perked up as he walked, hearing one of the criers shouting about the news.

"Another gruesome body found in Whitechaple! Has The Ripper returned?" he shouted. Jack shook his head, and kept walking. This was actually what Vastra had him looking into.

She sent him to find a man named Alistair Brown, an illegal laudnum dealer in Whitechaple. She didn't particularly care about that; they were a dime a dozen. What she cared about was, four of his employees had been carved up over the last three weeks.

The police were baffled, but had no suspects. They did look similar to the murders committed by Jack The Ripper, but Jack could see the differences the detectives couldn't. The victims were all male, which already didn't fit the formula. All of them had organs removed; one his heart, and right hand, one an arm, and another his lungs. The final man was decapitated. Jack hadn't seen the gruesome scenes (his imagination ran wild though), but it was enough to tell him something bizaar was going on.

So, he went looking for Alistair, but failed. He was nowhere to be found. His home, shop, local hangouts; he was gone like a ghost. He had asked a few of the locals, and Alistair had disappeared completely. No one knew where he had gone, or why. It bothered Jack.

That was another thing Vastra had begun to look into; people were dissappearing rapidly. It was too many to be a coincidence, and they all seemed to be people someone thought no one would miss. He wondered if it was connected to the brutal killings. He would bring that up to Madam Vastra when he returned.

He turned down another alley, near Paternoster Row; he was almost back. A man appeared at the other end of the narrow causeway, walking rapidly towards him. He looked normal for the time, dressed in a long overcoat, and stovepipe hat. Yet, something in Jack tensed. Perhaps, it was his years as a time agent, or experience from Torchwood, but something was off. He could feel it.

The man walked near to him, shifting aside to pass by him. They slipped past each other, relief filling Jack. He had just been paranoid.

Then he felt the vice grip on his shoulder. He was spun around, the man flinging him hard into the wall, both hands holding him to the bricks. His cold gaze looked into him, his eyes suddenly lighting up yellow.

Jack watched in horror as the man's facial skin shifted in place, changing into miniature cubes. They began to roll into one another, peeling back, revealing the robot beneath.

It reminded him of a giant lightbulb, shaped like a spoon. It's neck was nothing but an iron rod, reaching down into the fake flesh below.

Jack squirmed, and struggled. It was strong but if he could just get to his gun on his belt...

"The Great Intelligence require's that you die," the Spoonhead droaned. He almost had it, he just had to stretch a bit more.

"Obviously you haven't heard the rumors pal," Jack taunted, "I can't die. Hope failure isn't a scrapable offense."

He saw it's glowing head begin to light up bright blue, a loud whirring accompanying it. Face laser... great.

He struggled more, the light turning teal. In a panic, he kicked his boot into it's stomach as hard as he could.

It let go, and was pushed back by the force of the blow. Jack ducked, just as it fired, the bright, killer beam scorching a hole in the brick where his head had been. He quickly grabbed his glowing, red laser pistol, pointed, and fired.

In a flash of red, and the crash of shattering glass, the shot blew the Spoonhead's bulb into a burnt mess of melted wires, and warped metal. It teatered on it's feet for a few seconds, before finially flopping over, slumping against the wall.

He wiped the stress sweat off of his brow, and holstered his gun. This was not a good sign- the The Great Intelligence knew he was on his tail. He wasn't even sure how. He had never personally run into him, nor fought him. This thing was obviously one of his servents. He needed to tell Vastra about this. If it came after him, it could come after her.

He kept his cool, walking quickly out of the alley, not wanting to raise suspicion. He didn't need to get arrested for killing a killer robot. It would be just his luck.

After a few blocks, he finally reached Thirteen Paternoster Row. As he walked up the steps, the door opened. He had expected to see Strax, and was surprised to find Jenny instead.

"It's good your back," she said hurriedly, "he's here."

"Who?" Jack asked.

"The Doctor." Finially, what The Corsair had said was indeed true. A shadow passed over Jack, however. It had begun now. There was no turning back. The end of everything, had begun.