Chapter III

"HUDSON!" Sherlock shouted.

Stumbling footsteps came up the stairwell.

"Yes dear?" Mrs. Hudson panted, as she opened the door.

"Who was that?"

"Sorry, who's who?" she absently mindedly fluffing a pillow.

"That girl."

"I'm sorry Sherlock, I have no idea which girl you're talking about."

"Open your eyes, woman, the girl who just fell down the stairs

"Miss Clara?"

"Clara? Clara who?"

"Clara Oswald. She's living downstairs. Her friend put her up. He seemed a little suspicious to me but Clara is a very sweet young woman with a very acute sense of detail, much like yourself."

"Was that a client?" John Watson stumbled into the room looking frazzled

"Clara Oswald. Lives downstairs" Sherlock said before Miss Hudson could reply"

"Really?" said John

"Yeah." He said simply, stumbling to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

Clara sat on the bed holding her phone.

The epiphany had nearly scared her out of her wits. She had always been quite clever, but never to the point where she could read someone's entire past and present in a couple minutes.

She finally gave in and called the contact marked 'doctor'.

No answer.

"Please leave a message after the tone" went the annoying voice.

"Hi, doctor, its me… theresamadgeniouswholivesupstairsandshootsthewallatsixinthemornincuzhedoesnthaveacaseandhesomehowknowseverythingaboutyounottomentionmeandsomehowifoundouteverythingabouthimbylookingathimitsreallyfreakinmeoutpleasecallback." She waited for two long silent seconds then hung up.

After about a half an hour of laying on her back and staring at the ceiling trying to calm her, she decided she needed to talk to someone so she heaved a sigh and got up.

She thought as she sat at the rainy bus stop waiting for the eight o'clock bus. That man, the detective, he was one of the most annoying men she had ever had to confront. He was so annoying that she decided to make list. Literally. She titled the note:

the annoying man who lives above me.

He is way to rude for his own good

2. He uses three nicotine patches at once

3. No one needs four microscopes.

4. He is so messy I don't think I would've lived another minute in that room

5. He's much too tall…

She was so caught up in finding cons about the man she almost missed the bus.

"Hello?" she called when no one answered her knock.

The flat was empty.

Everything was as it was before her dad and the doctor had come.

No mess, just furniture. Even the food in the cupboard was the same.

Except for the men. She searched every inch of the flat, calling their names till she was hoarse.

"No note" she thought.

Dad always leaves a note. She stepped out to the tiny backyard to see if the tardis was still there. Nothing.

She was really getting scared now. She tried calling both their cell phones. Still nothing. She even called Angie - Clara still did the odd bit of nannying here and there - to see if she had seen the doctor. She said she hadn't.

"Okay" she whispered to herself.

"Get yourself together, Clara. What would the doctor do? He would go sit in a corner and think. Okay, I'll go-" she would've finished her sentence with "back to the flat" but something stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Clara Oswald" a dark, whispery voice filled her brain. It was like standing next to a booming speaker on max except it was coming from inside. She fell to her knees and clutched her head.

"Clara Oswald." This time it was so loud it left a then it stopped. The silence engulfed the flat like a fog.

"I'm going insane." She ran so fast she didn't bother grabbing her bike or waiting for the bus, cursing her apartment for having so many stairs.

She arrived back at her flat an hour later, sopping wet, seeing as she didn't use any form of transportation (other than her wellies). After shaking out her coat and putting on some dry clothes, she flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking.

As she thought, she got sadder and lonelier.

A quiet tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. Before she knew it, she was sobbing her heart out in a tiny ball on the bed.