Monday morning and Twelve was rather used to his commute. Get through the train station. Down to the Tube. District Line to Westminster. Out to the Tesco Extra to buy lunch. Cross the road onto Parliament Road. Whitehall. Into the Government Offices and up to the DCMS. The Department for Digital, Culture, Media and Sport (formerly the Department for Culture, Media and Sport until it was renamed a few short years ago).
Twelve never mentioned to anyone who didn't already know (which was hardly anyone) that he actually worked on Whitehall. Missy didn't know. Most people didn't know what his job even was. It hadn't even come out in his interview with Sarah Jane. Nobody but his boss and fellow civil servants knew.
"Morning, Doctor."
"Morning, Clarke." Twelve greeted.
"You heard the news?" Clarke asked.
"What news? There's a lot of news. Especially with the Prime Minister." Twelve said.
"Home Secretary." Clarke said. "Wants criminals to literally feel terror at the thought of breaking the law."
Twelve shook his head. "Jesus Christ the stupid bitch, as if that'll solve anything."
"We're civil servants, Doctor, we're supposed to be neutral."
"Yes, yes." Twelve sighed and took his seat. "You're right. But I'm just an intern yeah? As long as I'm neutral while I'm Twittering-which is my job-then it's all good in my hood, bro."
"You Millennials are all the same."
"I'm Generation X not a Millennial!" Twelve protested. "Get it right." He muttered as he logged onto his computer. "And at least we don't work for the git who claimed for a duck island. Or the one who claimed for horse shit." He paused briefly. "Or the guy who claimed three thousand eight hundred on beds and carpets."
Twelve leaned back in his uncomfortable office chair which reminded himself of who he was now working for since the previous Culture Secretary had been lost in the recent reshuffle.
"Morning all." It was the Culture Secretary's voice. "Now I know we're all supposed to be in recess. And I'm supposed to be in the East Midlands. But as you all know, Brexit's coming up in about eighty-something days and quite I'd rather us leave with a deal. And I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this. But, uh... yes. Let's get to work."
Twelve turned back to his computer and grabbed his mouse, putting his other hand back on the Braille display, ready to log onto the Internet.
That plan was scuppered, however as the Culture Secretary approached, and addressed, him personally.
"Erm, Doctor."
Twelve instinctively turned his head to let her know he was listening-he could still feel what he was doing on the computer anyway, thanks to the refreshable Braille display.
"Earlier this morning, the Opposition Communications Director was hit by a car on The Mall." She explained. "Probably not looking where he was going because he was giving someone a bollocking on the phone."
"Oh right." Twelve nodded.
"Tweet a nice tribute or... something." She was still settling into her new job and it came through. Either that, or she had something against the Opposition. Which of course she would, she was in Government.
"Is he dead?" Twelve asked.
"I actually don't know. It's just on the news that it had happened."
"Alright. I'll Tweet something so heartfelt, in two hundred and forty characters, that I you'll get a lump in your throat when you read it."
"Watch the sarcasm around me, Doctor." She said.
"I wasn't being sarcastic, Minister." Twelve said.
"Just get on with the Tweet." With that, she walked away. Presumably to her office.
"Nobody's even noticed I'm twenty." Twelve mumbled before getting on with the task.
Ten
everyone, it was Twelve's birthday yesterday. He turned 20 and spent it being berated by Three. So we're having a surprise belated party today and we want to make it a good one.
Rory
I'm at work.
Ten
You're always at work.
Rory
I'm a nursing student on placement-I don't know what you expect
River
But how do you olan on making it good?
Ten
Surprise party?
Amy
How are you planning that though?
Eleven
Since tennytentennyten10 didn't think this through, I'm going to take over planning.
Jack
Coolio
Eleven
impossiblegirl27, you're Twelve's bezzie mate, right?
Clara
Yes why?
Eleven
You're gonna be helping me with planning. How cool is that?
Kate
I don't know if I'll be able to make anything because my dad's got this thing tonight with his military stuff and he wants me there thing 1 and thing 2 can vouch for me there.
Eleven
That's suck a shame, Twelve likes you guys.
Osgood
We can try and make it.
Osgood
There's jus5no promises.
Eleven
And capnjack don't forget those weirdo Welsh froends of yours.
Eleven sat down on the sofa, put his feet up on the coffee table, turned on the TV and set the channel to BBC News.
"-is very effective at his job, of course. I have asked him to tone down the swearing and the threats, but it seems his reputation-"
"What are you watching?" Ten asked.
"Oh, it's just the Opposition leader." Eleven pointed at the TV screen. "A BBC journalist ambushed him outside his home."
"What's going on then?" Ten asked, taking a seat next to Eleven on the sofa.
"His spin doctor's been hit by a car or something." Eleven said. "Twelve just texted me."
"Well that's a surprise." Ten said.
"Time for a reminder of the headlines; Protests in Hong Kong-"
"Hong Kong's made the headlines every day for the last few weeks now." Eleven said.
"The Government's Home Secretary-"
Ten grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.
"Hey!" Eleven protested. "I was watching that!"
"You're supposed to be planning a birthday party for Twelve, though." Ten said. "This is so typical of you. Take your Ritalin."
"What if I don't want to?" Eleven asked.
"Then I'll prise open your mouth, put the pills in myself and massage your throat so they go down." Ten said.
"Yeah..." Eleven stood up. "I'm going to get to party planning..." He walked to the front door and opened it to see River standing with her arms folded.
"Hello, Sweetie." She greeted.
"Hey, River." Eleven half-heartedly greeted back.
"So tell me," River said, ignoring Eleven's tone, "how you're going to host a party for a blind man."
Ten rubbed the back of his head. "Maybe I didn't think it through."
"Maybe?" Eleven fiddled with his glasses. "It was a terrible idea."
"We can't just say it's off though." Ten said.
"Just don't get any bright bunting and I think you'll be okay." River said.
"I've asked Clara for help. She's his friend so she'd know what he likes."
"You're his brother, you should know what he likes."
"He keeps to himself, honestly." Eleven said. "Unless he plays guitar or shouts at one of us, we don't really hear from him."
"Yeah, that's true." Ten said. "Since he took that job as a social media manager for the government, we don't see him as much as we used to."
"But you want to have a party anyway because he's your brother." River said. "I can understand that."
"I just figured he'd enjoy a gathering with his friends." Eleven said.
"You'd best find out who's coming then." Ten said.
"I'll make a list." Eleven said.
"Now." Ten said.
Eleven picked up his phone and sat back down on the sofa. "Relax, I'm making the list."
"Okay." Ten said. "I'll go to Asda and get the cake and some food."
"Why not Tesco?" Eleven asked.
"Asda's closer." Ten said. He grabbed his key and swiftly left the flat.
River picked up a notepad and a pen from the table and sat next to Eleven. "Alright, who's coming so far?"
"Erm... me, Ten, you..." Eleven looked down at his phone. "Clara. Jack and those Welsh friends of his-"
"How many Welsh friends has he got?" River asked. She was taking notes.
"I...'m not sure." Eleven counted on his fingers. "I think five."
"I'm assuming Thirteen's coming." River said.
"Yeah, I cant imagine she wouldn't." Eleven reasoned. "Kate and Rory can't make it, but the Osgoods might."
"Osgoods... question mark." River muttered to herself. "Alright, is anyone else coming?"
"Bill and Missy have both just confirmed." Eleven said. His phone pinged in his hand and he looked down at it. "Oh and Bill says her girlfriend's coming too."
River scribbled their names down in the notebook. "Great. That's..." she paused as she counted under her breath. "Twelve."
Eleven's phone pinged again. "Mickey and Martha send their regards, but can't make it tonight. It's their anniversary."
"Two years already?"
"Yep, two years." Eleven said. He looked over at River, who was still taking notes, and he bit his lip.
He knew that he loved River. He loved her immensely. And sure they'd had their fights-what couple hadn't? But it was almost that exact moment he realised what he wanted out of their relationship.
His phone pinging snapped him from his thoughts. "Oh um... Donna's coming. And so is Nardole-seriously, where did he come from?"
"I don't know, Sweetie, he exists, just leave it at that." River said, adding the names to the list.
"Do you know if Amy's coming?" Eleven asked.
"I don't." River said. "I just let her get on with her own life. Make her own choices."
Eleven shrugged. He could understand that.
"So who hasn't responded yet?"
"Erm..." Eleven scrolled up through the conversation. "Ryan, Rose, Amy, Ashildr And Yaz."
"Alright, let's put them down as 'maybe' and get this thing underway." River finished her list and put the pen and notebook down.
Later on in the afternoon, Clara made her way over to the flat and knocked on the door.
Eleven answered. "Clara, hello." He greeted.
"I got some stuff here for Twelve's party." Clara said. "Just some music and some decorations-stuff that he can touch rather than see. So no rainbow coloured bunting."
"Shame, I like rainbow coloured bunting."
"Wouldn't work for a blind man, would it?" Clara asked, stepping inside.
"No, I suppose not." Eleven agreed.
"Hey, Clara." Ten greeted. "I'm just setting up the table now."
"I can see." Clara nodded. "Is that a chocolate cake?"
"Twelve likes chocolate cake." Ten said. "And crisps. And Fanta." He pointed towards the two bowls full of crisps either side of the traybake chocolate cake and three 2L bottles of Asda Orange Crush at the very end of the table.
"Fanta?"
"It's Asda brand Fanta." Ten said. "More radioactive looking and less... Fanta like. But it's cheap, so..." he shrugged.
"And the crisps are cheap too?" Clara asked.
"Asda's own brand." Ten confirmed.
"Why not get the real brands?"
"Well, Twelve's the only one of us who's actually earning a wage." Eleven explained. "Thirteen gets her student loans and Ten and I used to get them. Now we don't. We've graduated. But we get benefits."
"You get benefits." Ten said. "I've signed on. So yeah, we can only afford the cheap stuff."
"That's actually... Sad."
"Well, welcome to life with a disability. You make your family poor, you yourself are poor and the government only works to make you either poorer still, homeless or, best case scenario, you kill yourself by age thirty." Ten said. "I'm cracking on with life. I'm twenty-one now. I want a job. But what do you do with an English degree?"
"Be a teacher." Clara said. "I'm getting my degree in English and I want to be a teacher."
"Great, let's say we both apply for the teaching job-who are they going to hire?" Ten asked. "Me, the autistic person who's socially awkward, childish and often says things at inappropriate times? Or you, who's normal?"
"It's hardly a conspiracy, Clara, but nobody ever does hire autistic people." Eleven added.
Clara walked over to the shelf where Twelve's cards were. Some of them had raised images, tactile images and large font, others were in Braille. "Let's just get this party set up." She said, quietly considering what Ten and Eleven had just said to her.
Twelve had had a long day at work. He was starting to dislike his boss, who seemed to be asking him for overly political requests and he hated that because it absolutely, categorically was not his place to get involved in Party political matter. He was in the Civil Service and his was his job to remain politically neutral. No matter how much he hated the Party in office.
He walked as he normally did; trying to look confident as he passed through the Tube stations with his long cane in front, rolling across the floor checking for obstacles and feet. Twelve didn't just hate the Party in power. He hated people too. Especially when they grabbed him out of the blue.
"Here, let me help." It sounded like a man's voice, but Twelve couldn't be sure.
"No." Twelve said adamantly.
"Excuse me?" The person sounded affronted.
"You heard me. I said no." Twelve said. "I don't need help. And I certainly don't need you grabbing me in a place where if I lose my balance, I could fall to my death in front of thousands of people. And by the way, touching me? That's assault. I could get you done for that if I call 101."
"Look, mate, I'm just trying to help-I know if I was the tragic blind person, I'd need someone to-"
"I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. Now fuck off." Twelve said. "And let go of my arm."
The person let go of his arm instantly. "I thought you people were supposed to be-"
"Blind people are not homogeneous with other disabled people. Nor are we all fucking angels. Now let go of the cane or I call a TFL attendant who will call the police for me."
The person let go of the cane.
"That's what I thought." Twelve said. He lowered his sunglasses and glowered at the person, who scuttled away. "Wanker." He muttered to himself and carried on with his commute.
Twelve found his way down to the platform he needed-at least he hoped he had. When a TFL worker approached him, asking him if he needed help, Twelve responded with; "Is this the District Line to Upminster?"
"It is indeed, the train will be arriving in around three minutes."
"Alright, thanks." Twelve said.
"No problem." The worker then walked away, leaving Twelve to wonder why all his conversations couldn't be like that.
At the flat, everyone was gathering, getting ready to surprise Twelve.
Clara had put up decorations with different textures and at touch level so Twelve could feel them. Ten had put out a spread of finger foods including crisps, pizza, onion rings, sausage rolls, fruit and crackers and in the centre of the spread was a chocolate traybake birthday cake. Eleven had set up the music Clara had brought. It was all on her Spotify account, but he had set up the speakers to her mobile.
Roadrunner by Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers was playing as they hurried to put the finishing touches on the gathering in their small flat (though River, Rory and Amy had offered their flat up as an extra space).
"Do you think Twelve will appreciate this?" Bill asked as she and Heather entered the flat.
"Given that he spent yesterday being shouted at by Three, I'm gonna say this will probably be a welcome change." Ten said. He was pouring the Asda own brand orangeade into the plastic cups Donna had brought with her.
"Sometimes I feel bad for Twelve. Like he doesn't catch a break." Heather said. "Anyway, we brought a present."
"Yeah, we meant to come round yesterday with it. Only we forgot." Bill said with an awkward chuckle.
"Just leave it on the coffee table." Ten said.
"When's Twelve coming anyway?" Donna asked. She was sitting on the sofa.
Eleven looked at his watch. "Erm, he's due in around ten minutes, I think."
"You're telling me we're early?" Bill asked.
"You could always help out in the kitchen." Clara said. "Or help River and Amy next door. Or wait with Donna on the sofa."
"Who else is next door?" Heather asked.
"Thirteen, Yaz, Ryan and River and Amy." Clara said.
"Yeah, I'll wait on the sofa." Bill said, sitting down next to Donna.
Next door, Ryan and Yaz were blowing up balloons. Ryan was blowing up the balloons with a pump, while Yaz was tying them. Amy was pinning the balloons up, trying to make the flat look festive. It wasn't working. While Thirteen was packing party favour bags.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to do what you've been talking about?" Yaz asked as she tied a balloon off.
"Yeah, what about your brothers?" Ryan added.
"Twelve's already twenty and the twins are twenty-one." Thirteen said. "They've got their own girlfriends. Their own lives."
Ryan handed another balloon to Yaz. "Which you're not a hindrance to."
"Never said I was." Thirteen ripped open a pack of cheap yo-yos.
"Why are you-the yo-yos." Yaz said. "Twelve's blind. Isn't that insensitive?"
Thirteen shook her head. "It's not insensitive to Twelve. He likes yo-yos. Blind people can play with yo-yos."
"I know it's insensitive to me." Ryan said. "Don't put one in my bag."
"What should I put in yours then, Ryan?" Thirteen asked.
"Anything but a yo-yo." Ryan replied. "I mean I only just learned how to ride a bike. I'm not about to go learning how to yo-yo as well."
"So you're really going to do it?" River asked, coming from her bedroom. "You're going to move out?"
"Don't tell Ten, Eleven and Twelve, but yes." Thirteen said.
"We've been looking at flats together in Dagenham." Yaz said.
"You'll be seeing a lot of Eleven then." Amy said. "Rory's father lives there. Moved here to be closer to him while he was at uni or something."
"What's that got to do with Eleven? I thought he was seeing River?" Ryan asked.
"He is." Amy said. "He's friends with Rory and I too and through Rory, well, he's friends with Rory's dad. Kind of."
"He's a weird person, isn't he?" Ryan said.
"Yeah, he's unusual." Amy agreed. "Childish. Kind of just saunters around the place like he owns it. He's funny though, he's my best friend for a reason."
"Yeah, well, he befriends who he wants to and tries his best to help everyone." River said. "That's why I like him."
Thirteen just shrugged. "His bow tie's embarrassing."
River walked over to the door and glanced out. "Missy's coming. Twelve can't be far behind."
"Shit." Amy exclaimed. "Let's just... finish up here. Last balloon."
River walked out of her flat to next door, where Bruce Springsteen's Born To Run was now playing. "Hello, Missy."
"River Song." Missy greeted. "Any idea where Twelve is?"
River looked at her phone. "He's due back in about two minutes. Provided the District Line is running on time."
"The District Line is running on time." Twelve said, appearing behind them. "River. Missy. Are you not going to tell me what's going on? Or are you going to make me guess?"
"Guess?" River said with a shrug.
"Only I bumped into the Osgoods outside."
River glowered at Missy.
'I never saw the Osgoods.' Missy mouthed.
"Something about a... surprise party." Twelve said. "That and the uh..." He sniffed and his nose twitched. "There's a smell of cake. And cheese and onion crisps. And Fanta... and Bruce Springsteen's playing."
"Okay, yeah, this is a party." Missy said. "But they only held it because they were worried about you with what happened yesterday."
"Nothing happened yesterday, I'm fine." Twelve pushed past and folded up his cane. "I mean I did turn twenty."
"Yes, it was your birthday and now we're having a party." Eleven said. "Come on, we worked hard here."
"I worked harder than you did." Clara said.
"Clara!" Twelve exclaimed. "Good to see you."
"Figuratively?" Clara asked.
"Figuratively. And literally." Twelve replied.
Heather stood up from the sofa. "Hey, Twelve."
"Sorry we missed your birthday yesterday." Bill stood up with the present and put it in Twelve's hand.
"It's just a little small... thing." Heather said.
"Oh. Thanks." Twelve said, trying his best to sound sincere. "I just want to get out of these stupid clothes." He said, referring to his suit, minus the tie. He hated having to wear ties, ties always felt wrong.
"Oh, okay." Bill nodded, trying not to sound hurt.
Twelve walked around the flat carefully, just in case he bumped into someone. He did bump into Donna.
"Shoot, I'm sorry." Donna said, stepping out of the way.
"It's fine." Twelve said. He opened the door and stepped inside the bedroom only to slam the door shut.
"Well... that went well." Ashildr said. She'd been standing next to Rose by the food table with a cup of orangeade.
"Is that it?" Thirteen asked from the front door. "Party over?"
"Party over." Ten confirmed.
"Well that sucks." Amy said.
"Twelve's touchy like that." Missy said. "Something must have happened at work."
"Do you hear a guitar?" Rose asked.
"Yeah, it's Thin Lizzy." Eleven said.
"I'm not referring to The Boys Are Back In Town. I'm referring to... something else." Rose said.
"If you asked Twelve to reproduce this riff, could he?" Bill asked. "Like, I know he can play guitar and he can do it pretty well, but would be be able to play this riff?"
"I can play anything." Twelve said from inside the bedroom. He re-emerged wearing his electric guitar across his body and without his suit jacket. Though with his shirt still tucked in his trousers.
"Can you play this?" Bill asked.
Eleven paused the music.
Twelve positioned his fingers on the fretboard of the guitar and first played the chords before settling down into the riff, which he was able to do with ease and without missing a note.
"I wish I could play guitar." Rose said.
"Ah it wasn't easy to play." Twelve said, still playing. "I had to convince my brothers to let me play. One said no. Two said no and handed me a recorder. Three said no. Months I pestered them. Four eventually said yes." He stopped playing. "I've actually been playing guitar longer than I've been using my long cane. Muscle memory, see."
Twelve began playing a familiar guitar solo. A familiar solo to Missy anyway since she began singing along to the song.
When the song finished, Amy spoke up. "Twelve, that's really good."
"You should be a professional." Heather said.
"I wouldn't say I'm quite that good." Twelve said.
"Yeah, but that's really good for a blind guy." Donna said.
Twelve sighed at the backhanded compliment-if it could even be called a compliment.
"It's got nothing to do with him being blind." River said. "He's just a natural guitarist anyway."
"Yeah." Missy nodded in agreement. "Twelve's an amazing guitarist. And he's just as good as any sighted amateur guitarist." She turned to Twelve. "Go on. Show them. Play that weird instrumental song you love from the 60s."
"Jessica?" Twelve asked.
"No, the one that's not the theme song to Top Gear." Missy said.
"That'll be Classical Gas then." Twelve took his electric guitar off.
"I'll get your acoustic guitar." Clara offered.
"I have more than one acoustic guitar, Clara." Twelve said. "And more than one electric guitar. I have a few."
"I'm your bezzie mate!" Clara said. "I think I know which one you want."
"You know, I'm not in the mood for more guitar." Twelve said. "I'd rather just do some eating."
"If you're sure." Ten said. "I'll pop the music back on."
"Fine by me." Twelve said.
Ten put Clara's Spotify playlist back on-I Fought The Law. The Clash's cover, of course.
"You really know what kind of music I like, Clara." Twelve said.
"Rock and punk." Clara said as if it were obvious.
"Rock and punk." Twelve nodded.
"What song was that you were singing?" Amy asked Missy.
"Moonlight Shadow." Missy replied. "It's an old eighties song."
"Why that specific song though?" Amy asked.
"It's our song." Missy said.
"It's so... depressing."
"Yeah well, we're being pulled apart by circumstance." Missy said. "Just because our families hate each other over some stupid feud Three Doctor and my oldest brother Delgado got into years ago."
"You feel helpless." Amy said.
"I don't feel helpless." Missy lied. "Maybe Twelve does, but-"
"Hey, everyone! I brought biscuits!"
Almost everyone turned to look at the portly, bald young man at the front door.
"Fucking Nardole." Twelve muttered. "Come in." He said at his normal volume. "Might as well join us, aye. Just don't touch my cake. I want to stress eat that later."
A/N: Yeah, there really is a Department for Digital, Culture Media and Sport that was formerly the Department for Culture, Media and Sport until it was named by Theresa May. It's located on Parliament Road. And you might know it as being responsible for the planning of the 2012 Olympics.
Is it weird to see an all human au with Twelve being referred to as 'Doctor'? Well, it shouldn't. It's his last name after all and he is being called by his last name, just as he's calling his colleague by her last name.
The Home Secretary who is a thinly veiled Priti Patel, has the same crime policy as Priti Patel whose actual crime policy is 'make criminals feel literal terror at the thought of breaking the law'.
Civil Servants are supposed to be completely neutral about politics, but only when following their duties. The more senior they get in the Civil Service, the more neutral they're supposed to be.
Yes, in the Expense Scandal Of 2009, there was an MP who claimed for a floating duck island; Tory MP Peter Viggers. And another who claimed for horse poo; Tory MP David Heathcoat-Amory. And another who claimed roughly three thousand eight hundred for beds and carpets; Labour MP Alistair Darling. Another claimed on their toilet seat collection. Another claimed for a sink plug. Another claimed for a 55p Horlicks. Someone else claimed for their divorce. Someone else claimed for a KitKat. Another claimed for cat food. And someone claimed 5p on an Ikea carrier bag. It was a bit of a weird time in British politics to be honest.
The Culture Secretary is a thinly veiled Nicky Morgan, the actual culture secretary. She is a Tory, she voted and campaigned for Remain, she hates the poor and she loves running.
Twelve's job is running the DCMS social media account. His internship in the Civil Service is in communications.
I wonder who the Opposition Communications Director could be...
Protests in Hong Kong has been the top headline for the past three months now. They've only just taken a backseat in recent days because of the Amazon fires.
Ten, Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen all have ADHD, along with Eight.
Ten is wrong. Being a Civil Servant, Twelve does not work for the government. He works for the Crown.
Ten and Eleven are right, however, about having to sign on and get PIP/ESA/Universal Credit benefits. And the hiring rate for autistic people truly is abysmal if you want to look it up.
101 is the non-emergency crime number. If it's an emergency like someone's breaking into your home, call 999. If not, then 101 and the cops will get back to you. I use this number more often than I'd care to admit. I live in a rough area.
TFL=Transport For London
Ryan still has dyspraxia. I have dyspraxia (among other things) so I can say right now that I bloody well hate yo-yos. I'm 26 now and I can't get them to work because my coordination is so poor. I can imagine Ryan having similar difficulties. Also, Yaz is tying the balloons because Ryan can't, again taken from personal experience. I can't fold paper or card either and using a knife and fork is hell. I can see writing him will be easy.
Also Thirteen's moving out! Why Dagenham? Well, Dagenham has the cheapest rent rates going in London right now.
Thirteen's isn't the only story I've started-I've also planted the seed for Twelve's story, Eleven's story and by extension, Ten's story. Their individual stories will entwine with each other's. But there's going to be a happy ending. Well, for certain people that is.
If Twelve's parents died when he was six and he learned to use his long cane at age nine per the RNIB's recommendations, how old was he when he learned guitar?
Moonlight Shadow is a depressing song by instrumentalist Mike Oldfield and singer Maggie Reilly. It's good. But it's very depressing. It's about a young woman who witnesses her boyfriend being shot to death and the helplessness she feels.
I didn't know how to end it (I could have gone on for longer) so I just ended it with Nardole turning up with biscuits.
And why is Twelve's birthday August 4th?
Well, that's when Peter Capaldi was revealed to be playing the Doctor after Matt Smith. No other reason.
