Clara seemed more comfortable to be in normal clothes again. Martha always kept a change stashed in her office, and the fit wasn't too ridiculous on Clara. Funny how the Doctor had never noticed how tiny some of his companions were. He supposed Amy had raised the aggregate height across the board. Clara seemed particularly enamored of a well-worn dark red leather jacket, the smirk she gave Martha clearly saying "You might not be getting this back." That little smirk reassured the Doctor,more than anything Martha or Strax could tell him, that Clara was still Clara.
Vastra had waited until dark to make her excursion outside the TARDIS. Despite the infinite rooms onboard the time machine, sometimes the urge to feel earth, real earth, beneath her feet was unbearable. You can take the lizard out of the swamp...she thought to herself wryly.
The TARDIS was in a cooperative mood and complied with her wardrobe request, giving her the nondescript clothing she asked for: scandalously tight denim leg coverings and a simple, zipped overshirt complete with hood.
Wishing to avoid an argument with Strax, Vastra slipped quietly out of the TARDIS and into the cool night air. A light breeze tickled the top of her head before she drew up the convenient hood. She sniffed the air. Autumn.
"Are you sure I can't convince you to come home to dinner?" Martha was asking him. "Mickey and the girls would love to see you, you know. Hey, be nice!" She lightly punched him in the arm. He must not have hid his grimace at the mention of Mickey-the-Idiot quickly enough.
"Another time, I promise!" he told her. "I have to take this lot back before Jenny steals the crown jewels." Jenny grinned up at him over the screen of her "borrowed" iPhone unrepentantly. The Doctor made a mental note not to let Jenny get bored in the TARDIS, then remembered Strax and blanched.
Martha gave him a concerned look, then lowered her voice. "Doctor, what are you going to do now? With Clara, I mean?"
"Back to the TARDIS of course, and then, who knows?" he said evasively, refusing to see what she was getting at.
"Doctor, you do realize...I mean, traveling is..." She took a deep breath. "Clara may never...I mean, physically, she's fine, from what I can tell, but..." Martha didn't know how to tell the Doctor that Clara's recovery could go on for years, or that her mind might be permanently damaged. "Not everything can be healed, Doctor," she said softly.
The Doctor looked at her sadly. He knew, of course. "Then I'll take care of her."
Martha knew all too well the Doctor didn't do domestic. "For how long? Doctor, you-"
"She saved me over and over again, Martha. I can't leave her."
Clara felt tears suddenly come to her eyes, and she scowled to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. Martha didn't have shoes small enough to fit her, and she and the Doctor clearly hadn't heard her pad up to them in her bare feet, wondering what their intense whispered conversation was about. Guilt overcame her.
"Take me home, Doctor."