Martha made absolutely certain that she drove back to the police headquarters, due to her still-lingering trauma following the journey to the crime scene. She manoeuvred the small blue Mini through the streets and traffic with careful precision, never once taking her eyes off the road. The atmosphere in the vehicle was almost worryingly quiet, and Martha was concerned that it was her fault for concentrating on driving so intensely. After all, it wasn't like John to remain silent for longer than a minute, even if she had only known him for half a day.
It wasn't until they'd pulled into the car park of their offices, and John still hadn't uttered a single word or moved an inch that Martha was unable to stand it any longer. When she spoke up at last, her voice was hesitant yet assertive. "John… Are you okay?"
For around another twenty seconds, John neglected to answer, instead gazing out of the side window with his chin in his hand. His deep brown eyes were incredibly astute and his brow furrowed – it was evident he was pondering something profoundly, so lost to his surroundings was he. John didn't even spare his partner a glance.
Refusing to let it go, Martha spoke again, her voice raised slightly this time. "John?"
The detective inspector appeared to be startled, as if he hadn't heard Martha the first time she addressed him; his body twitched and he emitted a sharp intake of breath, like he was abruptly being woken from a deep slumber. John's gaze darted around confusedly for a little while, then eventually settled on Martha and softened.
"I'm sorry, did I do it again?"
"Do…what?" Now it was Martha's turn to be puzzled.
"You see, sometimes when I'm thinking too deeply about a case, I tend to drift off. I often forget where I am and who I'm with. It's really quite rude of me, I am sorry. It's only a recent thing, actually." For the briefest of moments, John's eyes glazed over in a distanced manner, but before Martha could ask if he was alright again, it was over. He was back to his smiling self. "So! We're back at the office, yes?"
"That's right."
"What's the plan, then?"
John's unexpected question threw Martha. "Well, I-I just sort of assumed you'd be telling me what to do…"
"Why?" Her partner seemed genuinely curious.
"Because you're a higher rank than me, and-"
"Oh, Martha. Martha Jones." John seemed upset, his eyes taking on a sense of melancholy. "Don't ever think you're less than someone because of what rank you are. That's nonsense! You are every bit as important as I am, if not more. Now tell me, what's your plan?"
Blinking away a minor tear that had sprung up in her eye thanks to John's kind words, Martha thought for a minute. "I know what I'd do, but I don't know if you work that way."
"Martha." John was serious, completely invested in his partner's unspoken plan. "Tell me what you'd do."
Although she started off slowly and timidly, Martha soon grew into her own as she laid out her ideas. "I'd check and see if the call and text records from the victim's mobile have been salvaged yet, which it's likely they have. If there were any dodgy messages, I'd track down the person using the GPS from their phone number and interview them, possibly bring them in for questioning. If not, I'd-"
"Blimey, I don't even think that far ahead! You are brilliant, Martha Jones. Never believe anyone who says otherwise." John enthused once again, grinning as he yanked open the car door on his side. "Off we go, then!"
Once again, Martha struggled to keep up with her new partner as he took impressively long strides on his way back to his office; luckily, she knew where they were headed this time. As they entered the double doors into the foyer of the building, one after the other, John halted his walking without warning, causing Martha to bump into him, much to her embarrassment. She coughed awkwardly and tugged at her suit jacket in order to straighten it, then glanced up at John's face to see what he'd stopped for.
"Donna! How's the job going?" He looked delighted to see the red-haired woman who was seated behind the desk at reception, sipping a cup of coffee and tapping letters in front of a computer screen. However, she didn't seem as pleased seeing him.
"Oh, well thanks for popping by, Martian. You didn't even bring me coffee this morning!" Her tone was sarcastic and hostile, although Martha could tell by looking in her glittering eyes that she was actually glad to be having a conversation with John, especially by her use of a pet name.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Been a bit busy." John remained nonchalant.
"Aren't you always? The job's going great anyway, thanks for asking."
"You're welcome. You're also welcome for me getting you the job in the first place."
"Oh, don't give me that, sunshine! I could have got this job by myself, you just insisted on butting in, as usual."
"Ah, but you wouldn't have it any other way."
After smirking at Donna in a vaguely cheeky manner, John finally turned to Martha. "Oh! Sorry, I'm being rude again. Donna, this is Martha, my new partner. She's a detective sergeant, and very good at it, might I add."
"Nice to meet you, Martha. He hasn't scared you off yet, then?" Donna smiled warmly at Martha, who appreciated her joking attitude. It made her feel instantly comfortable in her company.
Due to the slight banter and being content in one another's company, Martha assumed something blatant about John and Donna, and since she hadn't been told who exactly Donna was, she was forced to ask. "So, are you two… together? Or just friends?"
The reaction was immediate.
"Oh no, no, no. No, we're not- No, not like that. Definitely not. No." John jumped in to speak first, babbling on as he frowned at his partner.
Meanwhile, Donna just laughed, but denied the accusation equally as strong. "Me and him? He wishes! But no, we're just friends. And cousins, actually. Very distant cousins, but cousins all the same. Even though he likes to deny it – ain't that right, Martian?"
"What? Hmm." Was all John could muster up as a reply, still in shock that anyone would think he and Donna were romantically involved.
"Right. Sorry. We'd, er, well we'd better be off now. Crime to solve and all that. It really was nice meeting you though, Donna. See you again soon, yeah?" Martha could sense everyone felt uncomfortable now, so she decided to make tracks as quickly as possible.
"'Course. I'll just be here, being the glamorous secretary as always. Bye!" Donna returned to tapping away at her computer keyboard after smiling at Martha and nodding at John, who gauchely waved back.
As the two detectives scurried away and into the elevator, John turned to Martha, not entirely harshly, but with a bit of an interrogating attitude.
"Why did you think we were… you know?"
"A couple?"
"That. Whatever. Yes." John shifted his feet, avoiding Martha's gaze.
"You just sort of… Looked like you fit together. I don't know?" Her last statement of uncertainty turned out as a question.
"But I told you this morning that I'm not with anyone. Didn't you believe me?"
"Yes! Well, kind of. People do lie."
"Maybe, but not me."
"Maybe you're just weird, Martian." Martha retorted, using Donna's nickname for him to add insult to injury.
"No, no. Don't, don't do that." John appeared humiliated on behalf of both of them. Martha raised an eyebrow, prompting an explanation. Sighing, John eventually gave in. "Look, Donna's called me 'Martian' ever since we were kids. She thought I was so weird – because I like inventing things and doing homework and blabbering on a lot. So, the only explanation she could think of was that I must be from Mars. Don't you dare start calling me it too."
"Fair enough." Martha laughed, and John smiled, still vaguely embarrassed but amused nonetheless.
Martha changed the subject again. "You don't seem very aware of relationship stuff. Has there ever been anyone in your life? One person you loved, or even just had a crush on?"
"There was someone once. Sometimes it feels like it was a long time ago, sometimes it feels like two minutes." John's eyes glazed over once again as he trailed off, making Martha feel as if she shouldn't have been so persistent in asking such a personal question. She remained silent until he snapped back to reality. "Either way, it's in the past now. It's not like I can go back in time and change what happened."
"What did happen?" Martha was well aware that her curiosity was dangerous, and potentially destructive to her friendship (and work relationship) with John, but she couldn't help herself.
John smiled at her, an irrevocably sad smile that contrasted so horribly with his usual cheerful self. Then, the lift dinged and the moment was over. He stepped out first and reverted back to non-stop chattering, half to himself, half to Martha.
"Right! Checking the phone records it is. I always thought mobile phones were a way of catching people out. That's why I don't often use one myself. It's strange how people lay their hearts – not just their hearts, their whole minds, their whole lives, in fact – on the line by being completely reliant on silly little devices that the government and police keep track of. The world's gone mad! Well, if you ask most people, they'd say it's just part of life. Well, maybe not. Well, everyone has different opinions, I suppose. Anyway! Phone records, phone records… I believe Larry's got it covered – Larry Nightingale!" As John finished his whole nonsensical speech, he ended up in the main fourth floor computer office, run by the technical expert, Larry Nightingale. The young man looked up in surprise as John bounded into the room, chock-full of energy.
"Good afternoon, DI Smith. What do you need?"
"Please, call me John. I hate 'DI Smith', it's far too formal, even though it's expected of me. Right, Larry, I'm after phone records of a Mr Caan Eldak, the 26 year old who died in the drowning accident in the early hours this morning…"
"Of course, I've got them right here." Larry clicked a few buttons and brought up a screen that contained his last 50 phone calls and 100 text messages. "You can listen to the calls by clicking on any of the ones listed, and the texts are all here."
"You are a genius, Larry! Thank you so much." John grinned, leaning closer to the monitor screen and extracting a pair of black, plastic-rimmed glasses to read the texts, which he pushed onto his nose. He stepped back and removed the spectacles after what must have only been a minute. "Nothing out of the ordinary there. Let's check the phone calls, shall we?"
After listening to 50 phone calls, John and Martha still hadn't discovered anything threatening, only familial conversations or checking in with friends.
"Bit of a waste of time. What's next? You look like you know something." Martha addressed her partner, studying his expression intently.
"Oh, nothing's ever a waste of time, Martha. But I suppose you're right in a sense – there wasn't anything obviously worrying. As for next…" His expression growing excited, John dashed out of the room again, clearly formulating something in his mind.
"Er, cheers, Larry." Martha thanked the techie, who smiled in return, before hurrying after her partner. Fortunately for her, John hadn't gone off anywhere that she couldn't find him. He was just pacing up and down the corridor outside, deep in thought.
"Mrs Eldak, she claimed everyone loved him, adored him so much. No enemies… He had a girlfriend, she seems genuine from the text messages, his friends are just ordinary friends, his brother – Hang on a minute. His mother, she said… Oh, what did she say? He loved his brother. He loved his brother. That's it!" The detective inspector yelled triumphantly, then twirled around on his heel to face Martha as she came into view. "As you told me, the speeding car located last night near the crime scene was unidentifiable."
"Yes, they ran the registration plate through data records but the car didn't officially belong to anyone. It was brand new, hadn't been sold yet." Martha added, her tone suspicious as she attempted to understand what exactly John was getting at. She had no such luck.
"Yes, good. Great, even. No, brilliant!" John clapped his hands together, overwhelmed with eagerness and anticipation. "Come on, Martha. I think I just solved us a crime."