All across London, people hurried back to their homes, eager to make it back before nightfall. They all knew the penalty for breaking curfew. Well, that was to say they knew there was a penalty. Just what the punishment was exactly was anybody's guess. No one ever came back to let them know the specifics. It was with this in mind that Jack Spencer ran along the street towards his flat. Just a few more blocks with only five minutes to curfew. It would be close but he would make it as long as he didn't get distracted. So he ignored the brave (stupid) teenager writing graffiti on the wall. He ignored the sound of children crying in the distance. And he ignored the strange wheezing sound that came from a back-alley a few blocks back. He didn't want to find out what happened to those who disobeyed the Minister of War.

oOoOo

The Doctor frowned at the scanner. This was not the tranquil green fields of the Eye of Orion that he was expecting to see. This was a grubby looking back-alley. If the Doctor weren't positive that he had put in the correct coordinates, he would have said it was London. Swiping the screen with his finger, he double-checked the space-time coordinates and sure enough, they were those of London, 2017. The TARDIS must have changed them. She must have decided that the Doctor had been avoiding his favourite planet for far too long.

He wasn't sure why, but Earth just didn't have the same appeal as it used to. Maybe it was because of losing his last companion whom he still could not quite remember. Maybe it was because of losing all the others. Or maybe it was the fear of losing any more. Either way, the Doctor couldn't deny his reluctance to be back on Earth. The planet always needed saving and somehow it was always up to him to be the hero. Well, not this time. Whatever crisis the Earth was having (because there always was a crisis whenever the TARDIS took control like this), someone else could deal with it. He was on holiday.

Still... a little look around couldn't hurt.

oOoOo

The good news was that there was no one around who needed saving. The bad news, or at least the odd news, was that there wasn't anybody at all. This was 21st century London, just gone teatime, the streets should be teeming with life but they were just empty. There were no cars on the road. No tired workers driving home after a long day. No taxis taking their new-to-town passengers to their destination the long way round. No families heading down to the (currently shut) restaurants for a nice meal. No gangs of youths looking for entertainment. No music or laughter coming from the local pub. Where was everybody?

The Doctor walked along the street looking for any signs of life. He thought he saw someone peering through the curtains of one of the windows but when he looked back, they had disappeared.

His foot hit something on the ground and he bent down to pick up the offending object; a can of spray paint. He looked to the wall beside him.

RESISTANCE IS STRENGTH. WE ARE THE B

Whoever wrote it must have been interrupted. The Doctor pressed his finger against the words. The paint was still wet. This couldn't have been written more than ten minutes ago.

He continued walking until he reached a square. Still no one on the streets but this time he was sure he saw someone looking through a window at him. They seemed worried. But that thought was pushed to the back of his mind when he saw the statue in the centre of the square.

He stopped just in front of the monument and stared up at it.

'Huh,' he said to himself. 'I don't remember posing for this.'

The statue was of him, and not a bad likeness if he didn't say so himself, but it wasn't of this him. It was him from a couple of regenerations ago. The one with the hair that everyone seemed so fond of. He personally liked his current style better; it was just so much more sophisticated. But then again, all of his incarnations thought that their own style was the best.

The plaque at the bottom of the statue caught the Doctor's eye and he bent down to read it.

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH. WAR IS PEACE. FREEDOM IS SLAVERY.

Very 1984, thought the Doctor. That in itself didn't bode well but it was the graffiti underneath that made his blood run cold.

Resistance is Strength. War to the Minister of War. Freedom from the Valeyard.

A/N: Yes I realise the quote from 1984 is not in the right order but I wanted the graffiti in a certain order so I had to adjust the quote to match.