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"Not so tight!" John growled as Missy wrapped the bandage around his upper torso. "You're going to make it worse."
Missy merely pursed her lips as she wrapped it securely. "Stop complaining, will you! First, you told me it was too loose and now you're saying it's too tight – make up your mind."
He decided to let it go rather than arguing with her, knowing well she would always win. Once he was bandaged up, his sister handed him a glass water.
"Thank you," he muttered before finishing the drink in one go. "I suppose this is the part where I tell you what happened."
"Would you look at that, my baby brother is finally using his brain."
John glared at Missy before he leaned back against the backrest of the sofa, shutting his eyes. "Before I tell you anything, you have to promise not to interfere."
"Now, you know I can't do that."
"Promise me."
"I get to find the bastards who assaulted you."
"You can't hurt anyone."
"Except said bastards, at least."
John stared at his sister.
"You can't expect me to sit around and do nothing," she retorted.
"Promise me you won't hurt anyone."
Missy gave her brother a hard stare before she sighed in defeat. "Fine – continue."
"I remember calling it a night when somebody outside started screaming for help, so I unlocked the door and the next thing I knew, they were dragging me outside – I punched one of them and that was when they fought back, how I ended up like this," John explained, pointing a finger at his face. "I passed out in here and that was how Clara found me."
His sister listened intently, taking a second to process his story before speaking, "Did they say anything?"
"Told me to stay away from her," John murmured.
Missy tapped a finger on the armrest. "Who do you think sent those men?"
John chose his words carefully. He didn't think Clara's father would be capable of committing such a thing, considering the conversation they had the previous day. He didn't sound hostile or defensive. "I honestly have no idea and no, I doubt her father is the culprit."
"What makes you say that? He could have seen you as a threat to his daughter's future."
"Mr Oswald suffered a stroke yesterday and I was called in."
Missy crossed her legs. It would seem she would need to do some digging of her own. "John Foreman?"
Her brother huffed. "He wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Looks can be deceiving – what was your impression of him?"
"Rich, young, loves his pet horse, intelligent, and is obviously smitten with Clara."
Missy grimaced. She would have to start from the bottom and work her way up, starting with the thugs which shouldn't take much of her time. The perks that come with being a criminal consultant.
"Well, while I'm busy being me, why don't you rest, yes?" she said, rising. "Can you walk up the stairs?"
"I'm not an invalid, Missy," John growled in annoyance.
"Says the man who's struggling to get up from the sofa," she commented before helping her brother. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
"Stop it – you're beginning to sound like mum."
If her brother wasn't in the state he was in, she would have happily hit his head. "I'm your sister, your parents' daughter -of course I sound like mum, you numpty."
Despite having a frown on his face, John Smith was enjoying the banter, and grateful that his sister was with him, taking care of him, not that he would ever admit it to her.
"So how did the visit go?" Donna asked excitedly the moment Mr Rentford set foot into the kitchen. She would always ask him to elaborate. As a matter of fact, members of the household would usually gather around to listen and this time, it was no exception.
"It went well, as usual – Clara and Dr Smith were chatting like they always do," Henry said as calmly as he could as he didn't want to give away anything. He would have to confide to Donna in private if it came to that.
Donna looked at him suspiciously. "You hiding something, Rentford – I can smell it from a mile away."
He looked around the room where he was sure almost all household members were gathered. "Really, they were just chatting as usual – think I saw Clara holding his hand."
Luckily, that information alone was enough to satisfy everyone's gossip need. The crowd eventually dispersed, and Henry headed placed his hat on the kitchen counter before taking a seat.
Donna crossed her arms and gave him a hard stare. "Alright, tell me what's really going on – I saw the look on Clara's face. It was blank – emotionless – she's hiding something."
"What I am about to tell you can only be between us."
"Oi! You've known me for years – I don't just start spilling secrets out like some bottle of wine!"
Henry cleared his throat before he began telling Donna of how Clara found Dr Smith unconscious in his home, battered to how she cared for him. It made Donna speechless until he finished his story.
"I… I never imagined something so horrible could happen – Medicine Boy will be fine, right?" she said worriedly.
Her friend nodded his head. "His injuries weren't life-threatening."
"Good," she sighed in relief.
"Tell me how he kissed her hand again – it sounded so romantic," Donna suddenly said. "I just can't get enough of it."
Henry gave her a skeptical look before he recounted the tender moment between Clara and John.
Donna sighed dreamily once the anecdote was over. "Wish Shawn was as romantic as the Doctor."
"I'm right here, you know!" Shawn yelled from the pantry.
"I'm well aware of that!" Donna yelled back before continuing her conversation with Mr Rentford. "I'm guessing Clara is going to pay a trip to Medicine Boy, tomorrow?"
Henry finished his drink. "That was what she told me."
"I'll bake something for the poor doctor."
Clara stood in front of the master bedroom door, contemplating whether she should talk to her father or allow him to rest. She wanted to be sure he was fine but then what? She had nothing to say – well, she had plenty to say but she couldn't just tell him the truth while he was still recovering.
Before she had the chance to make up her mind, the door was pulled opened and her grandmother stepped out.
"Oh, you're back – Donna told me you were out needing some 'fresh air'?" Clarice inquired suggestively, giving her granddaughter a smile.
Clara's face immediately drained of colour. "I didn't – Nothing… I…" she stammered.
"Clara, it's alright, she really tried her best at lying but she spilled the beans before I even had the chance to press on."
She pursed her lips. "Yes, I went out to see the Doctor in hopes of finding out more about father's condition."
Clarice closed the door behind her immediately before they began walking. "What did he say?"
"I didn't get the chance to ask since I found the Doctor unconscious in his own home."
Her eyes widened in shock. "What?"
Clara began telling her grandmother her account of the incident. By the time she was done, she was close to tears.
"I… I don't think father would do such a thing – I can't imagine it," she whispered in a raspy voice.
Clarice patted her hand. "No, I don't believe your father is capable of such a cowardly and disgusting act – please tell Dr Smith I wish him a speedy recovery when you see him again."
"How is father, by the way – is he asleep?" Clara asked, changing the subject.
"He is now – he insisted on going to work tomorrow and I told him no such thing was happening," the elderly woman muttered. "Which brings me to my next point – when you talk to your father, please be calm."
Her granddaughter stared at her with a confused expression etched on her face. "What do you mean, nan?"
"He told me he wants you to marry the Foreman boy and I know, you love Dr Smith, but I'm just trying to help you prepare yourself when he talks to you."
Clara's cheeks began to redden at the mention of her love for John Smith. Her grandmother could see it clearly. She wished her father could do the same.
The very next morning, after sunrise, Clara sneaked out of the mansion and headed her way to the Doctor's residence. She looked down at the freshly baked pie Donna had made. She was sure he was going to love it. After all, everyone loves Donna's famous pear and apricot pie.
Her thoughts then wandered to the Doctor. Did he sleep well last night? Has he had breakfast yet? Did he even eat at all? Perhaps she shouldn't have left him so quickly.
Clara was snapped out of her thoughts when the carriage came to a halt and a moment later, the door was swung open. Carefully, she stepped out, making sure not to drop the decadent pastry.
"Would you like me to help you with that, Clara?" Mr Rentford asked as they approached the door.
"It's fine but I would appreciate it if you could help me open the door."
"With pleasure," he replied and walked past her.
Before Henry had the chance of grabbing the doorknob, it was pulled opened and he was greeted by the sight of a woman. A scary looking woman if he had to describe her.
She smiled at him before her eyes darted at Clara. "Clara, what a pleasant surprise!"
"Oh, hello, Missy," she said. "I'm… here to see the Doctor."
Her smile widened. "Please, please come in – John will be pleased to know you are here and I see you've brought a delicious looking pie!"
"I will be waiting outside," Mr Rentford said politely to Clara, not wanting to intrude.
Clara handed the pie to Missy and stepped inside. "How is the Doctor?"
"Grumpy, won't admit he likes the breakfast I cooked for him and kept complaining I'm treating him like a sick child – to be completely honest, he is acting like one," Missy explained as she disappeared into the kitchen. "You're more than welcome to see him – up the stairs and turn right."
"I'll be here in the kitchen tasting this delicious looking pie if you need me."
"Thank you," Clara replied before she quietly climbed up the stairs in search of the Doctor's bedroom.
"What is it this time, Missy?" John growled as he looked up from the book he was reading. His expression immediately changed. "C-Clara?"
John was currently in bed, shirtless, giving a clear view of the bandage that was wrapped around his upper torso. The sight caused Clara to blush – in fact, she could even feel the heat rising on her cheeks.
John tossed the book aside before he covered his body with the blanket. "Sorry," he murmured as she entered the bedroom. His eyes were everywhere except on her.
"An apology is unnecessary," Clara replied, amused at how shy the Doctor was being. Her expression then became serious. "But you told me nothing was broken yesterday, so why the bandage?"
"Ah," John started, scratching the back of his head. "I wasn't entirely sure if my ribs were broken."
"Doctor Idiot," she muttered before sitting on the edge of the bed.
John chuckled. "I've learned my lesson about lying if that is what you're wondering – Missy wasn't what I would call gentle."
"Good to know," she said, slowly moving her hand towards his.
"You find my pain amusing, then?" he replied, grabbing her hand and holding it gently.
Clara beamed. "I see you are fine now – bantering and what not,"
"This isn't banter – I am totally against bantering."
"Says the Doctor who's bantering," she giggled, earning a mocking glare from him. "Anyway, I didn't come empty handed – Donna baked you a pie."
"You mean the friend who looks at me as if I'm from another planet?"
"And the one who warned you not to do anything funny."
He placed a swift kiss on her hand. "Too bad she isn't here," he said huskily.
Clara leaned in, placing a hand on his cheek, caressing the cut with her thumb. The wound wasn't as bad as she remembered. They stared at each other longingly, drinking in the sight of one another.
"Too bad, indeed," she whispered before she captured his lips in a gentle kiss.
John hadn't kissed a woman in a very long time, so nobody could blame him for being as stiff as a stick at first, but eventually, he closed his eyes and responded, savouring the taste of her lips as he cupped her face gently with both hands. He let out a moan of approval when Clara wrapped her arms around his neck, softly scratching the back of his head. He couldn't deny or fight it anymore – he was in love with Clara Oswald.