Jacqueline Burrows did not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night. In her experience it was a sure indicator that something altogether unpleasant was about to occur. The ten year old scrunched her eyes tighter shut, unwilling to accept that is was too late for her to slip easily back to sleep.

The clock ticked, the minute noise seeming loud in the still silence of the night. As it ticked she counted. The evidence that time was passing- albeit slowly- comforted her. Halfway between tick number 157 and 158 a loud wheezing groan interrupted her counting.

Her eyes flew open. The noise was like nothing she'd ever heard before. A shiver ran down her spine as the wheezed groan sounded again.

Reluctantly she pushed her duvet away and sat up, dangling her feet over the side of the bed before taking a deep breath. She could do this, there was nothing to stop her. After all what was there to be afraid of? Only irrational babies were scared of the dark.

As her heart skipped one nervous beat she pushed herself up and let her feet come into contact with the floor. With wide eyes she tried to make out the familiar outlines of her room. Everything was stained a tone of inky blue, cold and distorted by the lack of light.

A crash from outside caused her heart to leap into her throat. Her long ginger hair whipped around as she turned to face the window, with each creak of a floorboard she cringed. Momentarily frozen by the sound until she built up the courage to take another step and creep forward.

Her pale hands looked ghostly in the limited light as she reached forwards and tugged the curtains open. Outside the overgrown mess of a garden was bathed in a soft golden light. Ah, and there was the source. Nestled between the spindly birch and the severely neglected potting shed stood a large wooden box, looking as if it had just fallen from the sky. With a frown she gave her arm a small pinch before coming to the conclusion that she wasn't dreaming. Drat! Her mother's flowers had been squashed and since the owner of the intruding box didn't seem to be present she was certain that somehow she'd end up with the blame.

Irked by this revelation she grabbed her torch from her bedside table. She padded out of her room and down the stairs, less daunted by the late hour as she gripped her light tightly. Tiptoeing around a crate of empty bottles her mother had worked her way through, but was yet to dispose of, she slipped on her slightly too large wellies and duffle coat over her pyjamas.

The wind had a chilling bite and the temperature was close to freezing. As she looked up she noticed that the usual blanket of grey clouds wasn't present leaving the sky was clear. Pinpricks of cold, bright light twinkled from the scatter of stars who'd fought against the light pollution and made themselves visible.

Silently berating herself she took another step forward- she hadn't left her bed for a spot of midnight astronomy. Another crash coming from the direction of the foreign box trebled her focus.

Now she was closer she could clearly see the object which was responsible for the execution of her mother's hydrangeas. The words 'Police Public Call Box' were branded above two square windows framed by the deep blue wooden structure. Frowning in confusion she cautiously edged around to the other side of the box. From here she could see the warm golden light was radiating out through the open door, a pile- almost bigger than the box itself- of nonsensical looking commodities stood just outside in an unorganised heap. She shook herself, wondering if perhaps pinching herself again wouldn't be a too bad idea.

A sheet of oddly coloured metal was tossed out the door and collided with a clattering bang against the growing pile. Flinching at the sound Jac darted behind a tree. Adrenalin pumped through her veins she watched on incredulously, unable to help a shocked gasp when a glowing orb flew out the box and rolled to her feet.

The crashing and banging stopped. Taking a step back into the darkness she clamped a hand over her mouth. Being discovered really wasn't something she'd accounted for. A second passed, and then another. Just as her heart started to slow down from its frantic beating and she began to let herself hope that she'd got away from it a figure emerged.

He wasn't what she'd expected. The golden light which illuminated the cluttered patch of ground relieved the strain on her eyes and gave her an easy view. From her hiding spot she could clearly see the stature of a young man, a mop of hair flopped to one side and the bowtie which protruded proudly from his neck looked almost comical. She watched as he walked around an ungainly circle, cringing further into the foliage as his head cocked in her direction.

The unintimidating appearance of the man caused her confidence to surge. After all, even in her vivid imagination, bowties weren't common attire for an axe-wielding murderers. She carefully took a step forwards, freezing for a split second as twig snapped loudly under foot.

The man was the first to speak. His words came out in a theatrical stage whisper as he bent down and stared into the leaves. "Have the Androzani trees uprooted or has someone been spying on me?"

There was nothing else for it. With a scornful frown she gingerly pushed her way through a prickly bramble and appeared in the open. "I wouldn't have to spy if you hadn't killed the flowers." She glanced over to the box and then tried (rather successfully in her opinion) to recreate her form teacher's most disapproving stare as she turned back to the now slightly sheepish looking stranger. "Your box makes no sense and quite frankly-" She huffed, crossing her arms "- you're the oddest looking police officer I've ever seen."

"Police officer?" He whispered again, scrunching his nose up as he grinned incredulously. "Why would I want to be one of those?"

This threw her. With a begrudging shrug of her shoulders she gestured to the box. "I know how to read, if you're not a police officer then why do you have a police box?"

"Oh, that!" Realisation flooded onto his features as he patted the top of her head, choosing to ignore the glare he received in return. "I'll let you into a secret. I know, consider it an apology for the flowers." He waved his hands around flamboyantly to articulate. "It's not what it says on the tin, makes life more exciting that way! Unless of course it's a tin labeled custard and you end up with mushy peas- then all you're left with is disappointment-"

As he paused his rambling to take a breath Jac took her chance to interrupt. She was cold and tired and currently finding it very hard to be interested by peas, mushy or otherwise. "Firstly, who are you and secondly, what are you doing in my garden?"

The man tilted his head as he listened before another large grin broke out on his face "Ah, yes, introductions! I knew I was forgetting something!" He hopped onto an ankle height brick border before stumbling off and firmly grasping her hand. "Firstly, The Doctor and B.)- " 'The Doctor' shook her hand enthusiastically, "I'd call that a happy accident."

"Jacqueline Burrows." Jac tugged her hand back and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Doctor Who?"