The next day, the three of them had a chat, and Clara showed Belle and the Professor around the streets where she lived. As they did, the Professor was on the lookout for anyone that looked like the Doctor. But he couldn't find him anywhere. Unless he was on the wrong side of London. Which was a possibility, since London was a big city. Even in Victorian times. But, while he was looking for his father, he drew quick glances at Clara. There was something about her. Something familiar. Something that felt right.

A while later, it was time for Clara to start her shift at the Rose and Crown, and Belle and the Professor began to tag along. They made their way to a table in the corner, and both sat down on the wooden chairs.

Belle leaned over to the Professor. "You like her, don't you?" Belle asked, a smile on her face. "What do you mean?" The Professor asked.

"Just the way you look at her," Belle answered. "Don't worry. She likes you too." The Professor's eyes widened, and he leaned forward. "She does?"

Belle nodded. "Told me herself last night."

While the Professor and Belle were talking, Clara had gathered some empty tankards from the tables and went outside, where she put the try. When she turned around, there was a snowman just standing there. She went back into the inn to get the Professor and Belle. "Can you come with me?" She asked.

"Sure. What's up?" the Professor asked, following Clara outside. "This snowman. It appeared from nowhere."

The Professor went closer to the snowman, inspecting it, when a man in Victorian clothes and a top hat walked past them.

Clara asked the man, "Did you make this snowman?"

"No," the man said, not bothering to look at them. It was a voice that was familiar to the Professor. "Dad? Is that you?" the Professor asked.

"You know him?" Clara asked. "He looks the same age as you." "Good genetics run in the family," the Professor replied.

"So, back to the snowman, who made it?" Clara asked, her attention finding its way back to the snowman in front of them. "Cos it wasn't there a second ago. It just appeared. From nowhere."

The Doctor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. Glasses that the Professor remembered that Amy had. What exactly had happened?

The Doctor circled around the snowman in deep thought. "Maybe it's snow that fell before," he mused, reaching out to the snowman, and picked up some snow, and let it fall to the ground. "Maybe it remembers how to make snowmen."

"What, snow that can remember? That's silly," Clara said.

"What's wrong with silly?" Belle asked. "Silly is what inspires books. And adventures." Clara looked over at Belle. "Oh, nothing. I'm still here with you guys, ain't I?"

"What's your name?" the Doctor asked, taking off the glasses and putting them back in his coat pocket. They were Amy's former reading glasses. It puzzled the Professor, though. Why was his father using Amy's glasses? It didn't make sense to him.

"Clara."

"Nice name. Clara. You should keep it. Goodbye!" The Doctor said, turning to an alleyway and walking down it.

The Professor, Belle and Clara followed him. "Dad? Where are you going?" The Professor asked. "Yeah..." Clara agreed. "I thought we were just getting acquainted."

The Doctor stopped. "Those were the days..." the Doctor said, turning around to look at them.

The Professor tilted his head. He let the words sink in and float around his brain, building connections. Amy's glasses. A saddened father. Did something happen to Amy and Rory?

"Dad...If you don't mind, could you take Belle with you? I'm gonna make sure Clara goes home safely," the Professor said.

"Fine," the Doctor said reluctantly.

Belle walked over to the Doctor stood before they started to walk together, while the Professor and Clara began to walk back to the inn. However, when the two of them were feet away from the door, Clara stopped suddenly.

The next street over, they heard a coachman. "Hi'yah!" It called out, cracking a whip.

"Strax?" He asked himself. It sounded like the Sontaran that had told him to come here. He looked over at Clara. He placed his hand on her lower back like it was an instinct. "What's wrong?"

"I just want to find out more about him," she said, then started to run after the Doctor, and the Professor began to run after her. They then ran together, hand in hand, as they chased the Doctor's brougham carriage.


Inside the carriage, the Doctor and Belle sat opposite each other while talking to Madame Vastra via a phone. "How refreshing to see you retaking an interest. Was she nice?" Madame Vastra asked.

"I just spoke to her," the Doctor said.

"The Professor and I did," Belle said. "I think the Professor has taken a shine to her."

"And the Doctor made his usual impact, no doubt," Madame Vastra said in a rather distasteful tone.

"No, no impact at all. Those days are over," the Doctor said.

"You can't help yourself. It's the same story every time. And it always begins with the same two words."

"She'll never be able to find me again. She doesn't even have the name. Doctor. What two words?"

Belle was going to say something, but before she could, Clara's head came through the roof, upside-down, with the Professor hanging on to her legs outside so she didn't fall.

"Doctor?" Clara asked. "Doctor who?"