John sat upon a small sturdy chair, Joan looking through his hair for the oh so painful injury he was complaining about as he gritted his teeth. He gave out a struggled groan as she brushed the tips of her middle and index finger across the invisible wound. "Stop it," she chastised as she continued her search, biting back a smirk. "I get boys causing less fuss than this."

"Because it hurts…" John countered through his locked jaw. A few moments later, the mahogany door burst open, Martha rushing in a she attempted to catch her breath. "Is he alright?" she asked the Matron as she looked at the young Maid.

"Excuse me, Martha," Joan started, clearly irritated and struck at the rudeness of the woman. "It's hardly good form to enter a master's study without knocking," she ended with a scowl.

Martha, showing her own annoyance, nodded. "Sorry. Right, yeah," she muttered quickly walking back to the wooden door and knocking it, sending the Nurse a look that could kill. Making her way back over to the two, she looked down at John. "They said you fell down the stairs, Sir."

"No, it was just a tumble, that's all," John replied, hoping to save at least a small amount of pride he'd lost, being as the whole school knew about his little detour.

"Have you checked for concussion?" Martha asked the Nurse, giving her another unnatural look. True, the two women had never really gotten on the right foot to begin with and they hardly ever agreed on something. Not like Martha could really answer or battle with something the Matron had said anyway, unless she temporarily forgot her place like she had at that present moment. That was one thing Martha despised about modern women; they were too stuck up and too stern for their own good. "I have," Joan replied, slightly angry. "And I daresay I know a lot more about it than you."

Remembering her place again, Martha nodded shyly as she looked back down at her master. "Sorry. I'll just..." she turned and looked around the room. "Tidy your things." Turning around fully, she walked to John's desk, immediately tidying whatever papers he had no time to place correctly himself.

"I was just telling Matron about my dreams," John piped up, hoping to get off the subject of his Maid's rudeness and trying to ignore the wince Joan gave when he called her 'Matron'. "They are quite remarkable tales," he trailed off, thinking about his previous dream about his fictional alter ego; the Doctor. "I keep imagining that I'm someone else, and that I'm hiding-"

"Hiding?" Joan interjected. "In what way?"

"Well… almost every night..." he shook his head and laughed stiffly, looking down at his journal. "This is going to sound silly."

"Tell me," Joan encouraged as she looked down at him curiously.

Sighing slightly, he began again. "I dream, quite often, that I have two hearts," he admitted embarrassedly.

"Well then, I can be the judge of that," Joan said as she smiled. She took out a stethoscope out of an old, worn doctor's bag, placing the buds in her ears as she places the cold end to John's chest, listening intently. Moving the stethoscope to the right side of the torso, she smiled again softly. "I can confirm the diagnosis- just one heart, singular," she said, putting the stethoscope away again.

"I have written down some of these dreams in the form of fiction," he informed her, looking around for the book as he wondered whether or not he'd written down last nights dream.

"I'd be very interested," Joan replied hopefully as she watched him search. Letting his amazement die down quickly, he found the journal on the desk. He hadn't expected anyone to actually find interest in his strange visions. In the end, that's all they were, and for someone to say they'd like to read about them made him extremely giddy. Handing the leather bound book shyly to her, she read the neat handwriting on the front. "'Journal of Impossible Things.'" Turning the page over, she instantly became intrigued by the ink drawing that greeted her. Page after page, she gasped in wonder at different drawings that stuck out to her. Quickly, she began to find how amazing his imagination was, as were his artistic skills. "It's become quite a hobby," John explained when she continued flipping through the endless pages, smiling at each.

"It's wonderful," she mumbled as she turned over the next page, her smile fading slightly. "And quite an eye for the pretty girls," she added as he peered over her shoulder at the drawing, one that looked nearly identical to Miss Marion Tyler.

"Oh no," he stuttered as he quickly looked over the page. "She's just an invention. This character, Rose, I call her, Rose." John looked up to see Martha watching him closely before she quickly looked back down, himself giving her an odd look. Peering back down at the picture, he added quietly, " She seems to disappear later on."

"She looks an awful like Miss Tyler," Joan commented as she turned the page, John noticing Martha's sudden still movements as her head flashed up as she looked over to them again, frowning. Ignoring her, John continued to look through his drawings with Nurse Redfern, herself turning to a page with a big, blue box on it. "Ah, that's the box, the blue box, it's always there," John pointed, the singing and wheezing it always made whirling through his mind. "Like a...like a magic carpet, this funny little box that transports me to far away places."

"Like a doorway?" Joan suggested. John nodded in reply as she continued searching through the book. There was a small, soft knock that echoed through the room, the three looking up. Marion stood shyly at the door, John's face brightening in her presence. Her worried expression soon disappeared, replaced with a relieved one. Realising she was standing in the middle of an old doorway, doing nothing but simply staring at John and Joan, she began to stutter. "Th- they said you had a trip down the stairs, Sir," she explained vaguely. "Just wondering if you were alight, is all." Noticing the look the three gave her, Joan's slightly more darker than the others. "It's difficult to get books returned from a dead man."

Seeing straight through the young woman's lie, Joan shut the book sharply, her features becoming softer as she looked up at the professor. "If you don't mind, John, I'd like to these drawings in detail. In my own time," she said questioningly, holding up the book. Looking back down at the Matron, he nodded his head hesitantly. "Yes, yes, of course."

Taking her bag after placing the stethoscope inside, she took the leather journal, keeping it securely in her hand and marched out of the study, a lot less happier than she had been when she first went in. After taking a curtsy, Martha followed her out, calling her name as she hurried, leaving John and Marion staring at one another. There was a long, awkward silence, Marion looking down at her fidgeting hands as John looked at her fondly, contemplating whether or not he should ask her to the Village Dance, her face becoming adorably red very hastily.

Clearing her throat, Marion looked up. "So," she croaked. "When will I be getting those books back?" she gestured to the messy pile of Shakespeare poetry books and a story on Macbeth.

Smiling softly, her chuckled. "Tomorrow morning, as I said," he retorted as she shook her head at her memory. Smiling more brightly, he strode over to her, taking her soft, warm hand in one of his, bringing it up to his lips. Placing a kiss on the back of her hand, he looked up at her happily, standing up straight again. "Thank you for your concern, Marion," he said simply.

Quickly recovering from her temporal shock, she returned his smile. "No thanks needed," she replied, giving him a gentle goodbye as she turned around and walked down the hallway, throwing backward glances over her shoulder to see he was watching her leave. John decided right there and then, he had completely and utterly fallen in love with Marion Tyler, and he was going to ask he to the Village Dance the next time their paths collided.