*excited noises* Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, guys! Things are heating up now with the break-in and the creepy journalist, so let's have a look at John's conclusion of the events...

Chapter 15

The lead was hanging around his neck, Odin was begging next to him and John was ready to go for a walk. He hadn't actually thought it possible, but by now, he found himself looking forward to taking his dog out every single day. There was something calming about roaming the landscape while Odin chased his sticks and went after rabbits and it had turned into a lovely daily habit – the perfect way to clear his head. Yet as John opened his front door, he found himself staring into the surprised face of Clara Oswald who had just been about to knock.

"Oh," John uttered in surprise. Odin dashed past him and out into the front garden. "I didn't expect to see you."

"Can we talk?" Clara asked, panting frantically as if she had just stopped after a run. Yet her motorcycle was parked right in front of his gate. "Please, it's important. I think."

He had never been the best at reading people's emotions or telling someone's mood, but it didn't take a genius to know that Clara Oswald was troubled. Whatever had happened today, whatever she had come to talk to him about, it was important to her and it scared her for some reason. However, John's eyes wandered to the excited dog already jumping up and down next to the gate.

"Um, do you want to come inside?" John asked. "Or walk with us for a bit? I was just about to take Odin out."

Clara turned around and obviously spotted the dog's mood because the next thing he heard from her was approval. "Sure, walk sounds good," she agreed, still sounding a little breathless.

"Really?" he enquired cautiously just to be certain. "You seem… well, in a bit of a state."

In response, Clara nodded. "Walk is fine," she confirmed determinedly. "I'll catch my breath in a minute."

When Clara didn't give off the impression that she was going to change her mind, John closed the door behind him and crossed the front yard until he could open the gate. Odin darted outside, eagerly sniffing around the wet grass to see what other dogs might have passed the house during the course of the day.

As they headed away from the house, John waited for Clara to start talking, but he didn't want to press the matter. Obviously, something had happened to frighten or worry her and he assumed that she still needed a moment to catch her breath or gather her thoughts. She would tell him once she was ready. In the meantime, he decided to just enjoy her company and the fact that he didn't have to walk alone. The weather was nice for once: no rain, but no sun either. Just an ordinary, mild winter day and the air smelled fresh and clean, the breeze carrying the salty scent of the sea across the fields.

"Something strange happened today," Clara began after a while.

John turned his head and looked at her, but she didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she seemed to find her own shoes rather interesting. "Something to do with the break-in?" he asked. "Did the burglar come back?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing like that. The police came by this morning, took some prints, told me to get a new lock, so I went to the hardware shop after work."

"Hope you picked a good one," he remarked for lack of anything else to say. He did hope that Clara had chosen a good one, one that would deter any future attempt at burglary. Above all else, John wanted her to be safe.

"I didn't pick anything," she replied. "When I went into the shop, there was this guy and he was acting pretty strange. I know, I probably sound crazy or paranoid or both, but he just gave me the creeps."

John shrugged his shoulders even though Clara wasn't looking at him. "You're a young woman living on your own and someone just broke into your home. I think it's natural for you to be cautious right now."

Finally, Clara turned her head and he was surprised to see her smile. "Thanks," she replied sincerely. Somehow, that smile made his heart skip a little beat.

"Why don't you tell me about the creepy guy?" he suggested before his thoughts had any further chance to trail off. This wasn't the right moment to think about how pretty she looked when she smiled.

Clara exhaled sharply and she turned her head to stare into the distance. Slowly, they continued their walk. "He was really nice at first. I mean, the woman who works there really wasn't helpful and the guy stepped in and offered his help, said he knew a thing or two about locks," she began to explain and then paused for a moment. "Now that I think about it, even that part was strange. He was right there when I walked into the shop and didn't hesitate for a second to offer to help me out."

"He could've just overheard you and, well, decided to say hi," John argued because it didn't seem strange to him at all, at least not that part. He, too, had jumped at the opportunity to help Clara out. It was just one of those things men did when they saw a pretty face.

"I know, but it gets stranger," Clara warned him as she continued her story. "So, he said he'd help me find a new lock, asked what I wanted to spend, asked what I needed it for and when the topic of the break-in came up, he smirked."

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "He smirked?"

"Yes," Clara replied sharply. She stopped and her head turned to look at him. From looking at her face, John didn't have a single doubt that it really was what had happened. "He looked like he somehow found it amusing or already knew about it."

Even though he had expected a rather different story after seeing Clara so upset, John couldn't help but admit that it was a little strange and possibly not in a good way. He couldn't even come up with a decent explanation for it other than the ones Clara had already provided. If he found a break-in amusing, he was a creep. If he knew about it, he was probably the one who did it. Either way, he decided to dig a little deeper.

"Can you describe him?" John wanted to know.

In response, Clara blew the air out between her teeth. "Phew, I don't know. After that, I just fled the shop, but he was around thirty, I think, maybe a few years younger. No Scottish accent, so he's probably not from here originally. About your height. Red-brown hair and-"

"And a terrible beard?" John finished her sentence before Clara had the chance and her eyes widened in an instant. By now, he was even less certain about what he was supposed to make of it because she had just described a man he had met a few days ago to a T. The young man at the café who had seemed more than prepared for spilling his coffee on John's shirt. He had also seemed prepared to meet Clara at the hardware shop and by now, John refused to believe that it was a simple coincidence.

"He introduced himself, said his name was Ciaran," Clara went on, looking straight at him. "You know him, don't you? How else would you know about the beard?"

John wasn't the type to remember the face of every person he met, but that man had left an impression, especially because after their encounter, John had had to walk around with a stained shirt for the rest of the day. "I ran into him at a café a few days ago. He poured his coffee over my shirt and then went on to ask me some questions. I figured he was a journalist who was trying to get information on the case, so I ignored him."

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" she wanted to know, suddenly sounding a little more frightened again. "About me?"

"Absolutely not!" John replied instantly. How could she even think such a thing? "I would never give away details about the case, especially not ones that involve you."

Clara looked at him for a long moment and eventually, she decided to believe him. "Alright," she said with a sigh. "So, he's a journalist? Just someone looking for a story? He's not dangerous?"

John knew that he couldn't promise her that, he knew that it should be impossible for him to know about the break-in unless someone from the police station had talked. He would have a chat with Kate about the matter as soon as possible. "I'll look into it," he promised her instead. "But I don't want you to worry unnecessarily. Change the lock on your door, that should be enough. Okay?"

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.

"I'll let you know as soon as I've found out more, but I really do think he's just a nosy journalist."

"Okay," Clara breathed in reply and finally, she seemed relieved. At last, she was calming down.

"And if anything happens, if anything seems weird, call your friend or me and I'll be right there, okay?"

John looked at her closely and suddenly, he could see a smile spread across her face. "Are the police in Scotland really taking things that seriously or is this some kind of special service for single women who get scared easily?"

If Osgood was here with them right now, she would have taken great pride in pointing out that he was blushing because this time, there was no doubt that he was. Clara had caught him in his intentions, no matter how noble they were.

"Oh, that's, um-"

Clara chuckled, interrupting his sentence which he hadn't known how to finish anyway. "I was just teasing," she said with a smile. "And I really appreciate it. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied and turned to look at his dog who was chasing a leaf across the field and he decided to continue their walk.

However, he was suddenly reminded of one little fact that he kept forgetting about whenever he was talking to Clara Oswald. It was the note he had found in the dead woman's pocket, the one with Clara's name and address on it and even though he really wanted to believe that she had nothing to do with any of it, that she was just an innocent woman had who ended up in the middle of things purely by chance, he still kept wondering what her part in all of this really was.