How long has it been? I am so sorry, there's no real excuse for a month or so of complete absence. It is finally exam week though, which means a little while off school, and maybe time to get things done if I don't drown in flash cards and curriculum specifications. It means a lot to me though, that people have been reviewing and asking for more. You guys are awesome and you keep me going.
The Doctor is whirling around the center of the TARDIS, or what John assumes is the centre, and now he is gripping tight to a lever, pressing all his weight to keep it down.
"Doctor?" John says, unnerved at the obvious panic and concentration required to steady the now bucking and swinging time machine that is shuddering under their feet.
"Someone, something is overriding my," a grunt of effort at a particularly violent spasm, "controls." The noise of the machinery screams high and fills the air around them until they are submerged in it, until it almost becomes a physical manifestation. John feels trapped, and there is nothing he can do to help with his steady hands, with his slow adrenaline-fueled purpose. And that is why John Watson is terrified.
He looks to Clara, and their eyes lock onto one another and she, without moving, feet steady, planted on the metal surface, takes a breath. "Doctor, what do we do?"
"HANG ON." He yanks the lever to the left with a movement that could wrench his shoulder from its socket, but he keeps his hands wrapped, shaking and taught with effort, unquestionably around the blue grip. John and Clara grasp the railings with both hands.
It is only when their supports, the sturdy metal begins to rattle, that everyone in the TARDIS fails to catch the breath that is being shaken out of them. "What's happening?" says Clara. There is panic choking the thrill out of her voice, and from the Doctor's eyes, and from John's army stance. The Doctor begins to answer, some intelligible bullshit, but the column in the centre flashes as scorching, screaming blue that invades every crevice around the room.
Dimly, above the accompanying throbbing, wavering, noise that rises in pitch and its burning their ears, he can dimly register Clara from not too far off, out of breath. "What's that?"
There is a jolt and it seems as if the ground is moving under their feet, as if they are spinning along, gravity barely keeping them grounded.
"She's just figured out where we're going, she's against it." "Doctor." In the corner of his eye, Clara is screaming, hair whipping, and it appears that they are indeed spinning. And then, the door of the TARDIS swings open and natural light slashes through the unnatural blue.
...
Amelia Pond. Red hair is draped smoothly over a dark blue pillow. Her eyes flicker open.
...
The Doctor is out of the TARDIS even before, John thinks, they have properly landed. The is light on his feet and spinning around in long legs to survey their surroundings. They are in a back garden, and the house is coated in a five o'clock shadow of creeping ivy. The house itself is squat, two floors high, and symmetrical. "Oh," says the Doctor, "Oh this is new." Excited, but slightly wary. And calculating, if such a word with connotations of dishonesty can be attributed to this man and his gangly legs and bowtie.
They are in the middle of the garden, a shed behind them, and trees draping over the borders of the land. Clara, last out of the box, looks around, "Do you know this place, Doctor?"
"Yes, yes. Its the home of- a friend." He stumbles over the word friend, as if he's not quite sure what they are anymore, as people do when they haven't seen someone in years.
"Has there been a mistake?" says Clara, doing a full circle of the TARDIS.
"No, no not a mistake. No, something different." He whips out a tool of some kind, and flicks his wrist, watching it light up green, and then checking some sort of reading. "Where at the right place."
"So, Sherlock is here," says John.
"Well, yes. He's here, but not here. Rather somewhere else. We'll find him though."
Clara seems to have adjusted to her surroundings, and is now just about ready to get things underway, whatever 'things' there are here. "Come on then, Doctor lets go see your friend." She marches towards the door.
"No no no Clara, that's probably not the best idea. We don't want to upset anything yet. Come on, lets just go round here." He leads the way around the house, and down a dirt road, as they walk, the house's fence keeps up with them. The quality of sunlight is different here, warmer, dryer. The house is bright.
And then, there is a woman leaning over the fence, her red hair frames her face. She's young, and tall, eyes bright and wide, and smiling.
"Doctor?" she says, like she's not quite sure.
"Amy." He stops, and allows her to run round a gap in the fence and hug him. Her laughter makes the air brighter.
"I knew you'd come back," she says.
"Always, Amelia, always. You doubted me?" He smiles, but there is worry in his eyes.
"Twelve years, remember Doctor?"
"An easy mistake to make."
"Twelve years from five minutes," she laughs, and slaps him playfully on the shoulder.
"Amy," the Doctor says, and his tone is questioning, waiting, "What have you been up to, then?"
Sorry for the crappy end to the chapter. It got to the end of of what I wanted to write for this section, and I had no idea what to do. And what is this I see? Some actual real plot developing that explains things? Thanks for sticking with me guys, there is more on the way. I do mean that. I will get this done.
ALSO THE FIRST NETHERLANDS GAME IS TOMORROW. I AM SO EXCITED THEY BETTER WIN. (is anyone else watching this, is it just me)
