Resistance. At some point in your life, a person, of who you have no remembrance, stated that one of your greatest assets was resistance.
No matter how tempting something was, the individual had stated, no matter its draw, if you had to, you could resist it.
Your greatest asset was making you a bit unnerved at this point in time. It made you restless.
Everything within you wants to walk past "" lodgings. It is so easy for you to become a forgettable figure. You can make yourself one with the streets and smoke. Not invisible, not a shadow. No, not this time. But just. Just. Just a person. Just a walker amongst the mass of people.
You are quite aware, that he is, most likely hunting the streets.
And yet, you know. You know that he could be staring out of that window of his. The distinct profile merging with the panes of glass.
That keeps you from walking down Baker Street. The simple matter of it is, you do not want him to see you. For his eyes could pass over the top of your head.
But you don't want that. You want nothing of that man-who could be above in his lodgings-to see any part of you.
You don't want him to see the shape of your shoulders, the length of your legs. Nothing.
You want him to see nothing until he has seen the destruction of the Doctor.
For then, then you will simply knock on his door and present yourself to him.
Then madness perhaps, the anger without a doubt and if you are lucky the destruction of grief. You want to see it. You want to see it as he lunges for you.
And as you laugh.