"So this is your house?" She watches him nod and turn to enter the door. His key slits into the lock in an instant and he glances back at her, beckoning her in. She doesn't move straight away, instead stands on her own at the bottom of the path admiring the house. It's been in his family for generations he told her as they drove there, passed on from father to son. His brother used to own it but he died suddenly during the summer. That's why John moved here. He used to live down south by the sea in Cornwall but after his brother died he felt the need to move in here. The garden was long and wild, decorated with blackberry bushes round the edge, concealing the inside from view. As she tiptoes down the path her eyes widen as she sees the garden hidden by the bushes. Anyone would have thought this was a madman's house. Unkempt and chaotic. But behind the bushes it tells a different story. There is an area of luscious green grass tinted with blooming daisies and bright yellow dandelions. She could imagine John lying out here in the summer, the warm English rays beating down on a rug and his voice filling the air as he reads some woman poetry. She wonders if this year that woman could be her. She hopes so.

The path leads Rose up to a blue door. It's navy in colour and panelled and to Rose it looks old. It's not really that ancient but it could be. Inside the door there is a hallway aligned with photographs. Some black and white. Some coloured.

"Oh those are former occupants of the house," John tells her his gaze lingering over each other. Rose asks about the women in the photographs. She thought the house was handed down from father to son. "They're wives, of girl friends. Some of them are sisters. Some are just housekeepers, companions. That kind of thing."

Her eyes fall on the last photograph. It's a photo of John and a red head woman, they're both laughing at the camera.

Catching her stare John tells her that's Donna. "My sister. She lives in Chiswick most of the time. But she's coming to visit soon; maybe I'll introduce you to her."

The house is bigger than Rose expects from its interior. It's full of odd objects. Some are ancient. Some are not. She catches a pile of marking held down by a tarnished silver goblet. He leads them into his kitchen and a dog arouses from his bed to greet her.

"-K-9," he introduces her with a grin as he laughs at his own joke "clever hey?"

She nods, kneeling on the stone floor to stroke the dog. He offers her a drink and she smiles gratefully, taking a glass from his grasp.

-x-

"Martha?" Martha stands in the doorway of her house. Her face is a perfect picture of surprise. It's Mickey. "-Can I come in?" She nods, opening the door and ushering her in.

"Martha? Who is it?" Tish's voice echoes from the kitchen. Thank god her mum is out. Boys are strictly forbidden from coming round, let alone going into her daughter's bedroom, which is where Martha is leading him.

"Just a friend Tish." My sister She mouths silently to Mickey and he nods in reply as they climb the stairs.

"Is it Rose?"

"No. I have other friends!" The rise in her voice surprises Mickey. It sounds unlike her. He always thinks of her as quiet and calm. They can hear Tish's footsteps approach the stairs and her face breaches into a smile as she sees who it is.

"Mickey!" He's in the year below her. They've spoken a few times. She knew Martha and him were friends. She had seen them together at Rose. But to invite him home, to their house. The possibilities of teases and blackmail were quickly multiplying in her mind. "Is Martha being a good hostess? Has she asked about drinks? Have you done drinks?" She flicks a stare at Martha and they both mutely shake their heads. "Would you like one?" He refuses in silent and Tish rolls her eyes. "Well I'll let you too get on with it. Whatever would mum say though Martha?"

Martha grits her teeth and ignores her sister's taunts leading Mickey up to her bedroom. "I'm sorry it's kind of messy." It's not he assures her. He's not lying. It's practically spotless. After a few minutes of mindless small talk Martha finally asks why he's here.

"I just wanted to see you. I'm sorry I stopped talking so suddenly."

"It's ok."

"Martha, really, I am sorry."

"It's fine." But it's not. Not really. She wondered why he stopped talking and she thinks she knows the answer. Rose. Of course it was Rose. She feels like she hasn't seen her for ages. She hasn't. Not really. She wants it to be just how it used to be. The three of them together. She realises she hasn't been listening to Mickey and he's been talking and instead she's been listening. She looks up questioning just as he finishes.

"-and the thing is. I really like you." The last sentence makes her catch her breath. What? Why did he just say that? He's looking at her now. He's waiting for a response.

She can't stop herself and suddenly she's nodding. "I really like you too." His hand touches hers and her skin begins to prickle in excitement. His fingers wrap themselves around hers and with his other hand he begins to trace his fingers through her hair.

-x-

They spend an hour working on maths until John gently closes the text book and slips his hand into hers.

"Maybe you could give me a tour of the house? Show me upstairs?" Her eyes lock with his and his lips begin to trace her face in response. He kisses her temples and moves down to her eyes; he travels over her nose and final lands on her lips. She murmurs in reply and pulls at his lips with her teeth. He wraps his hands around her body and she mimics him, grasping at his top the way he is at hers.

So, I'm leaving it there. Happy New Year! As a late Christmas present I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me and send in some suggestions. 1. Should he take her upstairs? 2. Where should this story go? Shall it be completely AU, or shall it all somehow link up the real Doctor and Rose?