Chapter 15

The Lodger

Rose's eyes flickered open as she roused out of her sleep, and saw her husband smiling at her, his head propped up with his hand and forearm.

'Mornin',' she said as she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. 'Morning gorgeous,' he replied.

'Mmmm, this is a lovely way to wake up,' she said, and started to kiss his neck and chest. She felt his hands fondling her bum and running up and down her spine.

They were both getting aroused when Rose suddenly stopped kissing, and the Doctor suddenly stopped fondling, as they both got that feeling that you get when you think you are being watched. They saw the puzzled looks on each others faces, and slowly turned to look towards the door.

Rose let out a startled 'eek', and quickly rolled off the Doctor and pulled the duvet up to cover her naked chest. The Doctor grabbed his half of the duvet and pulled it up to cover his erection. There, in the middle of the room, was their daughter, sitting in her walker with a big smile on her face.

'What the hell? How did you get in here?' Rose asked her.

'A more pertinent question would be, how did she get out of her cot, into her walker, and out of the nursery,' the Doctor said.

'Yeah, that an' all,' Rose agreed.

As if in answer to their questions, a guilty looking , basketball sized nanny-bot peeped around the open doorway. That was a remarkable feat in itself, as the droid had no eyes to peep with, and no face to have a guilty expression on. And yet it managed it with an amazing degree of accuracy.

'OI! Tweedle Dee,' Rose called. 'In here, now!' The little droid rolled into the room, somehow giving the impression that it was reluctant to do so.

It's counterpart rolled into view in the hallway and stopped. It made an 'uh-oh' sound and turned to roll off when Rose spotted it.

'Tweedle Dum, you too. Front and centre.' It gave a mournful little whistle and slowly joined its accomplice in front of their mistress. She looked at the Doctor. 'Can they understand me?'

He looked at the droids, waiting there like naughty children in front of the headmistress. 'Er, I don't know. I should imagine they have language processors to receive verbal command inputs.'

'I'll take that as a yes,' she told him. 'Right. First of all, I'd like to thank you for looking after Andrea so well.'

The droids turned to "look" at each other, "looked" back at Rose, and made a surprised "thank you" sound.

'However,' Rose continued, and the droids rolled back slightly, expecting the worst. 'When she wakes up in the mornings, me or her dad . . . that's him,' she clarified, pointing to the Doctor lying in front of her.

While she had been talking to the droids, Andrea had been chewing on a soft plastic teething ring. She tapped it on the plastic tray in front of her, which was built into the walker, and then threw it across the room.

'Will . . .' Rose continued, but Tweedle Dee held up one of his three fingers in a "just a moment" gesture. Rose watched in open mouthed amazement as it rolled over to the teething ring, picked it up, and returned it to its owner, placing it on the plastic tray. Andrea squealed with delight as she put the ring in her mouth and started chewing on it.

The Doctor started to chuckle. 'I can't believe our daughter has got them trained so quickly.'

Tweedle Dee returned to its position in front of Rose, waiting for her to continue the telling off. Rose smiled at the droids and softened her voice. 'Just . . . just leave us something to do eh? We'll get her out of her cot and take care of her in the mornin's. Is that okay?' Somehow, the droids gave the impression of nodding and made an "okay" sound.

'Right then. Off you go then, we'll take it from here thank you.'

The two little droids turned around and rolled out of the room. Rose leaned forward and kissed the Doctor on the lips, groaning with frustration. 'Sorry Love. It'll have to wait,' she said, referring to his erection. She looked at her daughter. 'Duty calls.'

'Ah well, never mind. Let's get dressed, have breakfast, and I'll take you to the fifth moon of Cindie Colesta,' he said.

'Who's Cindy Callista?' she asked him. 'And why does she own a load of moons?'

'No. Cindie Co-les-ta, a gas giant with a dozen moons. The fifth one is habitable and has lots of markets and bazaars . . . lots of shopping,' he said by way of an enticement.

'Ooh, sounds good to me.'

After breakfast, they went through to the console room, and Rose fastened Andrea into the baby jump seat, ready for landing, whilst the Doctor landed the TARDIS, and checked the view screen.

'Did we make it?' Rose asked him.

'Hmm, that's odd. It doesn't look like the fifth moon of Cindie Colesta. I'd better go and have a look.' He went to the door and looked outside. 'No, Rose, it's definitely not the fifth moon of Cindie Colesta. I think I can see a Ryman's.'

An explosion inside the TARDIS threw him out and to the ground, as the TARDIS dematerialised.

'Rose!' he called out. ['Rose!'] He thought to her.

['Doctor? It's saying we're on Earth. Essex, Colchester,'] she told him, hanging onto the view screen as the TARDIS shook and the console room banged and sparked.

The shaking stopped, and the Time Rotor started pumping again. ['Doctor? It's taking off again.'] The TARDIS was struggling to stay solid. 'Come on, come on Why won't you land?' she asked the console as she tried to materialise the TARDIS.

The Doctor climbed to his feet, and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked around the ordinary suburban street, and zeroed in on something far from ordinary.

'Oh dear,' he said as he looked at an end of terrace house opposite. There was something in that house that was stopping the TARDIS from materialising. ['Rose? Just keep the TARDIS stable for now. Something is wrong here and I need to find out what.']

['What is it?']

['Not sure, but there's something in a house that is stopping the TARDIS from landing. I need to get inside that house. Any ideas?']

['What's wrong with the usual sonicking and entering?']

['I think the sonic will attract too much attention. I think a stealthy approach is called for. You know . . . subtle.']

He felt Rose snort a laugh. ['Subtle? You?']

['I can do subtle,'] he told her indignantly. ['I can be Doctor Subtle.']

Rose thought about that after she had finished laughing. Her husband wouldn't have a clue about moving into a house. She thought about the time she had lived in the grotty bed-sit with Jimmy Stone.

['Go and have a look at the front door. Does it have more than one door bell, or a number of post boxes?'] There was a chance the house was a bed-sit or converted flats.

['Brilliant.'] He thought to her. He crossed the green, went over the road, and looked at the red front door. ['There's an intercom with two labels "79A" and "79B".']

['Well, it's a long shot, but the local newsagent's window might have an advert for a lodger.']

The next morning, the Doctor went back to the house after spending the night travelling around on the night bus and chatting to the passengers to pass the time. The long shot had paid off. There was a note in the newsagents window asking for a lodger along with a mobile number to call. It was the note above that had caught his attention though. The one from his wife.

He pressed the doorbell and heard someone come to the door.

The door opened and the young man said, 'I love you.'

'Well, that's good,' the Doctor said cheerfully. 'Because I'm your new lodger. Do you know, this is going to be easier than I expected.' He took a set of fluffy pink keys from the man.

'But I only put the advert up today. I didn't put my address,' the man told him, wondering how he knew where to find him, having only put his mobile number.

'Well, aren't you lucky I came along? More lucky than you know. Less of a young professional, more of an ancient amateur, but frankly I'm an absolute dream.'

'Hang on a minute, mate. I don't know if I want you staying. And give me back those keys. You can't have those.'

'Yes, quite right . . . Have some rent,' the Doctor said, handing him a paper take-away bag with lots of twenty pound notes in it. 'That's probably quite a lot, isn't it? Looks like a lot. Is it a lot? I can never tell. The wife normally handles the money matters, but she's stuck at the moment.'

'Stuck?'

'Yes. In flight.'

'Ah. Airport delays eh? Bummer.' The Doctor pushed past the man and went into the hallway. He noticed the lights upstairs were flickering.

'Don't spend it all on sweets, unless you like sweets. I like sweets. Ooh.' The Doctor gave the man a couple of air kisses about six inches from each cheek. 'That's how we greet each other nowadays, isn't it? I'm the Doctor. Well, they call me the Doctor. I don't know why. I call me the Doctor, too. Still don't know why.'

'Craig Owens . . . The Doctor?'

'Yep. Who lives upstairs?'

'Just some bloke.'

'What's he look like?'

'Normal . . . He's very quiet.' A crash from upstairs refuted that statement. 'Usually. Sorry, who are you again?' Craig asked, but the Doctor had gone through to the flat. 'Hello? Excuse me?' he called after him.

'Ah. I suppose that's dry rot?' the Doctor said looking at a dark patch on the ceiling and part of the wall.

'Or damp . . . Or mildew.'

'Or none of the above,' the Doctor suggested mysteriously.

'I'll get someone to fix it.'

'No, I'll fix it. I'm good at fixing rot. Call me the Rotmeister.' He thought about that, and thought better of it. 'No, I'm the Doctor, don't call me the Rotmeister. This is the most beautiful parlour I have ever seen. You're obviously a man of impeccable taste. I can stay, Craig, can't I? Say I can.'

'You haven't even seen the room.'

'The room?'

'Your room.'

'My room? Oh, yes. My room. My room. Take me to my room.'

Craig led the Doctor to a room with Eighties decor. 'Yeah, this is Mark's old room. He owns the place. Moved out about a month ago. This uncle he'd never even heard of died and left a load of money in the will.'

'How very convenient,' the Doctor said. 'This'll do just right. In fact.'

There was another loud crash from above. The Doctor licked his finger and held it up, testing the air. 'No time to lose. I'll take it. Ah you'll want to see my credentials,' he said and took out his psychic paper. 'There. National Insurance number.' He passed the wallet behind his back and held it up again. 'NHS number.' He passed it again. 'References.'

'Is that a reference from the Archbishop of Canterbury?' Craig asked as the Doctor put the wallet away.

'I'm his special favourite. Are you hungry? I'm hungry.' The Doctor went through to the kitchen area.

'I haven't got anything in.'

The Doctor looked in the fridge. 'You've got everything I need for an omelette fines herbes, pour deux. So, who's the girl on the fridge?' he asked, referring to a photograph of Craig and a young woman, along with a Vincent van Gogh Self-portrait in Straw Hat postcard.

'My friend. Sophie.'

'Girlfriend?'

A friend who is a girl. There's nothing going on.'

'Oh, that's completely normal. Works for me.'

'We met at work about a year ago, at the call centre.'

'Oh really, a communications exchange? That could be handy.'

'Firm's going down though. The bosses are using a totally rubbish business model. I know what they should do. I got a plan all worked out. But I'm just a phone drone, I can't go running in saying I know best. Why am I telling you this? I don't even know you,' Craig said.

'Well, I've got one of those faces. People never stop blurting out their plans while I'm around.'

'Right. Where's your stuff?'

'Oh, don't worry,' the Doctor said, whipping up the omelette. 'It'll materialise. If all goes to plan.'

In his rented bedroom, the Doctor had outdone himself with his latest gizmo. Forget the hand held gadget that went ding and lit up in the presence of shape-shifter DNA, this was a serious mega-gizmo. It included a bicycle wheel, an umbrella, a rotary clothes line, a lamp shade and the bicycle's pedals, with a rake, a broom and an oar as outriggers and a traffic cone on top.

['Right. Shield's up. Let's scan,'] he thought to Rose as he set it spinning.

['What are you getting?']

['Upstairs. No traces of high technology. Totally normal? No, no, no, no, no, it can't be. It's too normal.']

['Only for you could too normal be a problem. You said we could be lost forever. Just go upstairs.']

['Without knowing and get myself killed? Then you really are lost. If I could just get a look in there. Hold on. Use the data bank. Get me the plans of this building. I want to know its history, the layout, everything. meanwhile, I shall recruit a spy.']

In the flat, Craig was starting to tidy up when he decided to examine the stain more closely. 'Rotmeister,' he said with disdain and stood on the sofa to touch the damp patch.

As he touched the stain, there was a hissing sound and it burned his fingers. 'Ow! Ow.'

The next morning, the Doctor was carrying a tray along the hallway. 'Craig? Craig? Breakfast. It's normal. Craig?'

He let himself into Craig's room, and saw him lying in the bed, obviously in serious trouble. 'Craig. Craig, Craig, Craig. I told you not to touch it. Look, what's that?'

He lifted Craig's arm and saw a green line up the inside of his forearm. 'It's an unfamiliar and obviously poisonous substance. Oh, I know what'd be really clever, I'll stick my hand in it. Come on, Craig, breathe.'

The Doctor clenched his fists together and hit Craig's chest. Craig gasps. 'Come on, Craig, breathe. Thems are healthy footballer's lungs.'

He ran back to the kitchenette and stuffed as many tea bags as possible into a commemorative Royal Wedding teapot. 'Right, reverse the enzyme decay. Excite the tannin molecules.'

He ran back to Craig's room, and poured the super-strong tea through the spout, straight into Craig's mouth. Craig swallowed the tea and then spoke. 'I've got to go to work.'

'On no account. You need rest. One more.' He poured some more tea into Craig's mouth.

'It's the planning meeting. It's important.'

'You're important. You're going to be fine, Craig.'

When the Doctor left him, the bedside clock displayed 7.15. When Craig woke up, it displayed 14.45.

'What? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,' Craig said as he pulled himself out of bed. He quickly got dressed, and made his way into work.

Craig made his way to the call centre and rushed into the office. 'Oh, afternoon,' a man in a suit said.

'I'm so sorry, Michael. I don't know what happened. I've got no excuse,' Craig apologised.

'I think that's not what my screen is telling me, Mister Lang,' the Doctor said to someone on his headset.

'What's he doing here?' Craig asked Michael. 'What are you doing here?' he asked the Doctor.

'If that's your attitude, Mister Lang, please take your custom elsewhere,' the Doctor said.

'No, no, no, that's one of my best clients.'

'Hello, Craig. How are you feeling? Had some time to kill. I was curious. Never worked in an office. Never worked in anywhere.'

'You're insane.'

'Leave off the Doctor,' Michael told him. 'I love the Doctor. He was brilliant in the planning meeting.'

'You went to the planning meeting?' Craig asked in amazement.

'Yes. I was your representative. We don't need Mister Lang any more. Rude Mister Lang.'

'Here you go, and I found some custard creams,' Sophie said, handing the Doctor a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits.

'Sophie, my hero.'

Sophie turned to Craig. 'Hi, Craig. I went on the web, applied for a wildlife charity thing. They said I could always start as a volunteer straight away. Should I do it?'

Craig was to distracted to concentrate. 'Yeah, great. Yeah, good. Go for it.'

'You look awful,' the Doctor told him. 'About turn. Bed. Now. Who next? Oh, yes. Hello, Mister Joergensen. Can you hold? I have to eat a biscuit.'

The Doctor watched Craig leave, and he also saw how Sophie looked at him. That bit about the wildlife charity thing could have gone better. He returned his focus to the task in hand when he heard a voice in his headset. 'Ah, Mister Joergensen. How can I help you?'

When the Doctor had finished at the call centre, he returned to the house and let himself in. A cat was coming down the stairs. 'Have you been upstairs?' It replied with a 'meow.'

He sat down on the stairs and stroked the cat. 'Yes? You can do it. Show me what's up there? What's behind that door? Try to show me.'

'Meow.'

'Oh, but that doesn't make sense. Ever see anyone go up there?'

'Meow.'

'Lots of people? Good, good. What kind of people?'

'Meow.'

'People who never came back down. Oh, that's bad. That's very bad.'

Craig snatched open the door of the flat.

'Oh, hello,' the Doctor said.

'I can't take this any more. I want you to go.' He went back into the flat and picked up the bag of money. 'You can have this back and all.'

'What have I done?'

'For a start, talking to a cat.'

'Lots of people talk to cats.'

'And everybody loves you, and you're better at football than me, and my job, and now Sophie's all oh, monkeys, monkeys, and then there's that,' he said, opening the door to the Doctor's room and pointing at the mega-gizmo.

'It's art. A statement on modern society, Ooh, ain't modern society awful.'

'Me and you, it's not going to work out. You've only been here three days. These have been the three weirdest days of my life.'

'Your days will get a lot weirder if I go.'

'It was good weirdness. It's not, its bad weird. I can't do this any more.'

'Craig, I can't leave this place. I'm like you; I can't see the point of anywhere else. Madrid? Ha, what a dump. I have to stay.'

'No, you don't. You have to leave.'

'I can't go.'

Craig grabbed the Doctor's lapels. 'Just get out!'

'Right. Only way. I'm going to show you something, but shush. Really, shush. Oh, I am going to regret this. Okay, right. First, general background.' The Doctor head butted Craig.

'Argh.' Craig received a very quick view of the Doctor's life so far. 'Oh.'

'Ow,' the Doctor said, holding his forehead.

Craig pointed at him, open mouthed. 'You're a . . .'

'Yes.'

'From . . .'

The Doctor shushed him.

'You've got a TARDIS!'

'Yes. Shush.' He pointed at his face. 'Eleventh. Right. Okay, specific detail.' He head butted him again, and they both went 'Argh.'

Craig got another burst of data. 'You saw my ad in the paper shop window.'

'Yes, with this right above it. Which is odd, because Rose hasn't written it yet.' He held up the note that Rose would write.

"Doctor - this one no 79a Aickman Road Rose xx"

'Time travel. It can happen.'

Craig pointed at the mega-gizmo. 'That's a scanner. You used non-technological technology of Lammasteen!'

The Doctor put his hand over Craig's mouth. 'SHUT UP!'

They both held their foreheads. 'Argh.'

'I am never, never doing that ever, ever again,' the Doctor told him, and then called his wife. ['Rose.']

'That's your wife, Rose.'

'Oh, of course, you can understand us now. Hurrah.' ['Got those plans yet?']

['Still searching for them,'] she told him.

['I've worked it out, with psychic help from a cat.']

['A cat?']

['Yes. I know he's got a time engine in the flat upstairs. He's using innocent people to try and launch it. Whenever he does, they get burnt up.] He pointed at Craig. 'Hence the stain on your ceiling.'

'From the ceiling,' Craig said in realisation.

'Well done, Craig.' ['And you, Wife, with our daughter, nearly get thrown off into the Vortex.']

['Lovely.']

There was a loud crash from upstairs. 'People are dying up there,' Craig realised, and then went into some kind of loop. 'People are dying. People are dying. People are dying.' The loop finished. 'They're being killed.'

'Someone's up there,' the Doctor told him, and they both ran to the stairs.

['Doctor?'] Rose called from a rocking TARDIS.

['Hang on.] 'Craig, come on. Someone's dying up there.'

As they went up the stairs, they saw Sophie's fluffy pink key ring in the door lock. 'Sophie. It's Sophie that's dying up there! It's Sophie!' Craig said.

['Doctor!'] Rose called again, and then was thrown about again. ['Argh!']

'Where's Sophie?' Craig asked at the door to the upstairs flat.

'Wait, wait.' ['Rose?']

['Are you upstairs?']

['Just going in.']

['But you can't be upstairs.']

['Of course I can be upstairs.']

['No, I've got the plans. You cannot be upstairs; it's a one-storey building. There is no upstairs.']

The Doctor sonicked the door, and they went inside. 'What?' Craig asked in confusion. 'What?'

'Oh . . . Oh, of course,' the Doctor said as he looked around a high-tech room with a central control console. 'The time engine isn't in the flat, the time engine is the flat. Someone's attempt to build a TARDIS.'

'No, there's always been an upstairs,' Craig told him.

The door they had just come through flickered between a front door and a bulkhead door. 'Has there? Think about it.'

'Yes . . . No . . . I don't . . .'

'Perception filter. It's more than a disguise. It tricks your memory.'

They heard a scream from the other side of the central console. 'Sophie! Sophie! Oh, my God, Sophie!' Craig called out.

Sophie was being pulled towards the central console by a web of electricity. 'Craig,' she called back.

'It's controlling her,' the Doctor told him. 'It's willing her to touch the activator.'

'That's not going to have her,' Craig said and grabbed her arm to try and stop her. Her hand was pulled onto a dome shaped control. The Doctor used his sonic screwdriver.

'Ah, deadlock seal.'

'You've got to do something,' Craig pleaded.

As the Doctor worked with the sonic, Sophie was released and fell back into Craig's arms.

'What? Why's it let her go?' The Doctor looked around the room, and saw the mummified remains of the pilot. 'So, okay . . .'

A man suddenly appeared in the room. 'You will help me,' he demanded.

'Right. Stop. Crashed ship, let's see. Hello, I'm Captain Troy Handsome of International Rescue. Please state the nature of your emergency.'

'The ship has crashed. The crew are dead. A pilot is required.'

'You're the emergency crash program. A hologram,' the Doctor reasoned. He sonicked the man. 'What, you've been luring people up here so you can try them out?'

The hologram flickered between an old man. 'You will help me.' A young man. 'You will help me.' And a young girl. 'You will help me.'

Sophie had recovered, and came to her senses. 'Craig, what is this? Where am I?'

'Hush,' the Doctor told her. He was thinking. 'Human brains aren't strong enough, they just burn. But you're stupid, though. You just keep trying,' he told the autopilot.

'Seventeen people have been tried. Six billion four hundred thousand and twenty six remain.'

'Seriously, what is going on?' Sophie asked again.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. 'Oh, for goodness sake. The top floor of Craig's building is in reality an alien space ship intent on slaughtering the population of this planet. Any questions? No, good.'

['Doctor. Rude!'] Rose told him.

'Yes, I have questions,' Sophie said.

'The correct pilot has now been found,' the Autopilot announced.

'Yes, I was a bit worried that you were going to say that.'

['He means you, Doctor, doesn't he?'] Rose realised.

The Autopilot used its energy to drag the Doctor towards the console. 'The correct pilot has been found . . . The correct pilot has been found . . . The correct pilot has been found.'

['What's happening?'] Rose asked.

['It's pulling me in. I'm the new pilot.']

['Could you do it? Could you fly the ship safely?']

['No, I'm way too much for this ship. My hand touches that panel, the planet doesn't blow up, the whole solar system does.']

'The correct pilot has been found.'

'No. Worst choice ever, I promise you. Stop this.'

['Doctor? It's getting worse,'] Rose told him as the shaking in the TARDIS increased.

'It doesn't want everyone,' the Doctor said. 'Craig, it didn't want you.'

'I spoke to him and he said I couldn't help him.'

'It didn't want Sophie before but now it does. What's changed? Argh. No. No, I gave her the idea of leaving. It's a machine that needs to leave. It wants people who want to escape. And you don't want to leave, Craig. You're Mister Sofa Man.'

['Doctor!'] Rose called out in the Doctor's head as she was buffeted by the TARDIS.

'Craig, you can shut down the engine. Put your hand on the panel and concentrate on why you want to stay.'

'Craig, no!' Sophie cried.

'Will it work?'

'Yes.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'Is that a lie?'

'Of course it's a lie.'

'It's good enough for me. Geronimo! Argh!' Craig put his hand on the nearest control panel, and the Doctor was released.

'CRAIG!' Sophie called to him.

['Doctor!'] Rose called again. She was now seriously worried that she and Andrea wouldn't survive much more of the buffeting.

Smoke was coming off Craig's hand. 'Craig, what's keeping you here? Think about everything that makes you want to stay here. Why don't you want to leave?' the Doctor asked him, as he slapped his face.

'Sophie. I don't want to leave Sophie. I can't leave Sophie. I love Sophie.'

'I love you, too, Craig, you idiot.' She put her hand on Craig's.

'Honestly, do you mean that?' Craig asked in disbelief.

'Of course I mean it. Do you mean it?'

'I've always meant it. Seriously though, do you mean it?'

'Yes.'

'What about the monkeys?' Craig asked her.

'Oh, not now, not again. Craig, the planet's about to burn. For God's sake, kiss the girl.'

'Kiss the girl!' Rose said in the TARDIS, and Craig and Sophie kissed, which released Craig's hand from the panel.

['Doctor?'] Rose asked in his head as the TARDIS stopped shaking. ['You've done it. Ha ha! You've done it. Oh, now the screen's just zeros. Now it's minus ones, minus twos, minus threes. Big yes.']

'Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me,' the Autopilot repeated.

['Big no,'] the Doctor thought back.

'Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me.'

Craig and Sophie came up for air from their epic first kiss. 'Did we switch it off?' Craig asked.

'Emergency shutdown,' the Doctor said. 'It's imploding. Everybody out, out, out!'

'Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me.'

['Doctor?'] Rose asked in concern, wondering what was happening.

'Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me.'

The Doctor, Craig and Sophie ran down the stairs and outside. The top floor and roof turned into the Timeship which then flew away, leaving a totally incongruous one storey building at the end of an entirely two storey terrace. A man walked by carrying a child, oblivious to what had just occurred.

'Look at them,' Craig said. 'Didn't they see that? The whole top floor just vanished.'

'Perception filter. There never was a top floor.'

Back in the flat, the one and only flat, Craig and Sophie were snogging on the sofa. 'So have we spoiled our friendship, then?' Craig asked her.

'Totally ruined it,' she replied.

'And what about the monkeys? We could save them together, you know. Do whatever we want. I could see the point of Paris if you were there with me.'

'First, let's destroy our friendship completely,' Sophie said cheekily, and they started snogging again.

The Doctor entered the parlour from his room, and turned his back discreetly before leaving the keys on the sideboard and reaching for the door lock.

'Oi,' Craig called to him.

'What, you're trying to sneak off?' Sophie said as they got off the sofa and went to the door.

'Yes, well, you were sort of . . . busy,' the Doctor explained.

'I want you to keep these,' Craig told him, handing him the keys.

'Thank you,' the Doctor said. 'Because I might pop back soon, have another little stay.'

'No, you won't. I've been in your head, remember. I still want you to keep them.'

'Thank you, Craig.'

'Thank you, Doctor.'

The Doctor put a hand on each of their shoulders. 'Sophie. Now then. Six billion four hundred thousand and twenty six people in the world. That's the number to beat.'

Sophie laughed. 'Yeah.'

The Doctor left the flat, and went across the road to the now landed TARDIS.

'Back in time. You need to go to the paper shop and leave that note for me,' the Doctor told Rose, as he listened to the console with his stethoscope.

'Right little matchmaker, aren't you Captain Handsome?' Rose said, bumping shoulders with him.

'Ah, you heard that did you? Oh, rectifier's playing up again Hold on. You write the note and I'll change that will,' he told her as he went down the steps to the under floor area.

'You got a pen?' Rose asked him.

'Make sure it's a red pen.'

'Okay. What do I write?'

'Ah, you have to decide that. There's a note in a shop window, and you have to bring it to my attention.'

'Right.' She put Andrea in the jump seat, took a pen out of the pot on the console without looking, and started writing.

"Doctor - this one no 79a Aickman Road Rose xx" she wrote in red ink, and drew a little arrow pointing down.