I sat down in my old desk chair, sipping a cup of joe as dark as the gun in the top-left drawer. I tipped down my fedora, the light in the room flickering with wild anticipation.

I put the mug down and flipped through the boring mail on the desk. A bunch of junk mail telling me I won thousands. I could use thousands, I thought. I looked at my reflection in the coffee mug and adjusted the beak on my penguin face.

My name is Frobisher. I'm a private detective, but also a shapeshifter, though the only thing I can shift right now is the size of my penguin beak. But that's a story for another day.

I heard a knock on the antiquated, wooden door. Finally, a case… or trouble. I didn't know it at the time, but it was trouble. I opened the drawer and grabbed the gun, slowly placing it on my desk.

The dame walked through the door. "I trust you are Mr. Frobisher, private detective?" Her accent was definitely one from Yorkshire. Her lips were painted with a gorgeous red lipstick. Her blonde hair was styled in perfect, straight bangs, and she wore a long black dress that went all the way down to her high heels. There was something about her that looked unseemly like she wasn't used to wearing such clothing,

"Yes, I am Frobisher. Anything you want from me, miss?"

"I need your detective eyes on a case. A friend of mine has gone missing, and I think something uncouth is afoot."

"Something uncouth, you say? I'm the bird up your alley. Now tell me the details. You say a friend has gone missing?" I opened the top-left drawer, always careful to put a pencil and paper next to the gun, in case it truly was a case.

"Yes, her name was Sophia Reynolds, and the last time anyone saw her was in the shop on 4th avenue."

As soon as she said "the shop on 4th avenue," I was all ears. I knew some dastardly things were happening in that shop, and I couldn't put my flipper on it. I continued writing as she spoke.

She continued saying, "Sophia did say that she had some problems with her boyfriend." The dame sighed. "I suspect something has to do with him. The problem, however, is that I've been in that shop several times, and nothing has put me off guard- well, except the mannequins."

"Mannequins, you say? What about them is so off-putting?"

"Something about the faces seems unseemly to me. Well, anyway, enough about mannequins. How much are your services?"

"My usual is $50, but I think something a bit more dastardly is going on in that store. More than a revengeful boyfriend. Madam, I think you got yourself a private eye." A private eye, both on her case, and on her.

The day was cloudy, the skies ready to give their rain. "The store's this way," the lady said. I looked up at the dame and felt a familiarity with her like I had seen her before.

She led me to the old shop. It was a little fancy dress store, with not so little in prices. The bell rang as we entered. The lighting here was just as bad as my office, the yellow lights flickering every so often. It was a wonder why people shopped here.

"So this is where the little lady was kidnapped?" I asked, rhetorically. "Let's see here. Overpriced tuxedos, some fancy dresses, and-" I looked up at the strange mannequin. The pale, yellow skin looked discomforting enough, a vaguely skull-shaped face made it the Frankenstein it was. And for a while, I could almost hear it call out a word- a fragment of a word, a whisper. "Doc...tor…"

"Yes, the mannequins are horrific. It's a wonder how they ever bought these," the dame said, taking me out of my phased moment.

"Yes, that is a wonder. And I think it's our first clue." Whatever it was, the Doc' was involved.

"How so?"

"Have you ever heard of an 'Auton'?"

We made our way to the back of the store, far from the gaze of any of the workers. "What exactly is an Auton?" the lady asked.

"I really don't know, but from what I've gathered from the Doc', they're some sort of mannequin-robot-creatures, and they aren't that friendly. They must be making some here, probably in the back." She smiled when I mentioned the Doctor, and something in her gaze was puzzling. She knew the Doc', no matter how much she was hiding from me- including her name.

"Well, shouldn't there be like a back entrance of some sort here? Every store is bound to have one."

I looked at the dame and smiled. "Well, you could be right, and the only way to see if it's guarded is to find it. Err, You any good at fighting?"

She smiled. "Any good? You could say that. High heels are a good defense. Though I would rather wear boots."

So, she didn't like high heels. That was just building my suspicions of her even more. To keep my cool though, I said, "Well then. Let's find ourselves a back entrance."

We walked out of the store as nonchalantly as possible, then sneaked our way through the back. The rain was already pouring down. But unlike the rain, I had my suspicions about this girl rising with every step she took, and every move she made.

The cement was becoming slicker and slicker the more we traveled down the alleyway. Finally, we stopped, ducking behind some wooden carts that were a little ways farther from the backwater staircase, and the man smoking on the top platform.

The dame looked with disgust at the man. "Smoking. Never good for you. Well, Mr. Frobisher, I guess this is the part where I distract that man with my 'good looks' or something, right? Well, try anyway. I doubt soaked hair would really do any good."

"Heh, you're new to this aren't you," I smiled.

"You could say that," she smiled. "Well, anyway, what's the plan?"

"Well, you distracting him, then I'll run up and knock him out, and then I'll pull the key out of his pocket." The plan seemed flawless, if she could distract him, that is.

She smiled. "I'll try." She breathed in, then proceeded to get up and walk as 'gracefully' as could be. "Hey… 'sugar'," she said, with obvious doubt in her speech.

"Hmm?" The crook looked with a wicked smile. "What's a dame like you doing in this neighborhood?"

"Oh, just dissatisfied with life as of now." She stopped for a moment and gulped. "Every girl wants some risk in their life, you know?" She walked up the rickety stairs, her hands gliding over the metal bar.

"And you want some comfort in the streets? I'll be happy to oblige." He smiled again wickedly, spitting out his cigarette.

The lady walked up to the crook and smiled. "I think you will." She immediately spun around, kicked him in the legs with her heels, then put two of her fingers on his neck, his eyes widening with every gasp. She then let go, the man falling down, unconscious.

I waddled up the stairs. "How'd you do that?"

"It was a trick I learned a very long time ago. Now, about this door?"

"Oh, right!" I grabbed the key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

The room was dark and dingy, just like the store. The lady turned on the overhead light. At least this one didn't need replacement. The walls were brick, and the air was filled with dust. There was a table in front of us, with one chair and an untouched fast food meal. Fresh, by the looks of it. I entered the room, and the dame's attention was on the rack of about ten Autons in the back, and a girl, probably in her 20s, against the back wall, her hands tied up.

"Sophie!" the dame cried out, running towards the girl, and untying the rope around her hands.

"Doctor!" Sophie exclaimed. It was at that moment I smiled.

"Well, you kept up the act long enough, surprisingly. You Time Lords of a nack for not doing every good with double identities. And you finally regenerated into a more loveable dame too, and thank goodness you got rid of your dream coat."

The Doctor smiled. "You haven't changed Frobisher, not one b-"

We heard the click of a gun and a man's voice. Alright, I don't care whoever you are, but put your hands up!"