Re-materializing on Gallifrey, The Doctor and Romana found themselves weary. Stepping down from the console, The Doctor moved to the lounge area. Fetching a vinyl record marked "Pat Hodge: In a Dream", he placed it on the record player and set the needle down. Music began to echo down the empty corridors of the TARDIS. The Doctor closed his eyes and swayed gently. Romana moved to join him near the record player, shaking her head.
"I never understood your fixation with Earth music." Romana said, smiling.
"Probably has something to do with the many years I spent there. But that's just a hunch." He replied.
Romana found herself tapping her foot.
"Can I offer you a cup of tea? A Jelly Baby? Five?" Romana stuck out her tongue slightly.
"Gods, no. Those, I never liked."
She stayed for a moment longer, before turning and walking towards the door.
"You'll be around, then?" She asked The Doctor. He replied, with a pang of disappointment.
"As long as I'm needed, yes."
Romana gave a faint smile before leaving, the door shutting behind her.
The Doctor sighed, running his hand through his hair. He looked around his TARDIS, music still filling it. His gaze fell over his desk, but he found it toppled over. It must have fallen at some point during the business with the Sontarans. He would have noticed before, he thought. He always noticed.
The desk's drawers had fallen open, spilling all the contents on to the floor. All of the little tools he had stored there over the years were uselessly strewn about, accompanied by various scraps of paper and notebooks. They had all collected his musings over the long years he traveled.
Though he saw the mess in front of him, he seemed almost unable to register it; unable to focus on a single bit of paper or tool. All he saw was a mess to be cleaned up.
"Bloody Edwardian sensibilities..." he muttered, moving over the console.
Without looking back, he turned a small dial. The mess on the floor was quickly sorted out; the papers were quickly digitized, the tools were stored away in some far away cupboard, and the desk was stored away in the furniture directory. The Doctor turned, looking at the empty space where the desk used to be.
"There. Much better."
He scratched his chin, surveying the rest of the TARDIS. To these old eyes of his, so much that seemed to bring him joy before only stuck out as clutter, now.
"Give it time..." he said to himself.
As a distraction, The Doctor returned his thoughts to the Sontarans. Something about the whole ordeal ate away at him. He accessed his scanners and began to survey the area where the Sontarans had been ripped away from. Staring at the once full bit of space, he felt a sense of impending dread. He pulled at his scarf, sighing.
He would have sat there for hours if it had not been for a message sent directly to his TARDIS alerting him. Bringing down the screen with a sigh, he answered.
"Yes. Hello?"
From the viewscreen, The Doctor saw a familiar workshop. Before he could say anything further, a man was thrown in front of the screen.
"AAAAHHHH!"
He landed with a great thud. The man pulled himself up, facing the screen. There was a manic look in his eyes, accompanied by a mad smile. His face was framed by short, curly hair and a matching brown beard.
"Yes! Hello, my friend! Would you care to come down and aid me in this most.. dire situation? Seems I've miscalculated the size of the miscalculation I made.. earlier. Yes. Oi! Get down from there! DOWN! I said DOWN, DAMN YOU!"
The Doctor shook his head. What could The Corsair be up to now?
"I'll.. right, I'll be right down."
The Corsair didn't answer, instead running off-screen, followed by the sound of breaking glass.
"Right..." The Doctor sighed, setting the scan to continually run. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he exited the TARDIS and headed for his friend's workshop.