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"Clara Oswald," The Doctor declared enthusiastically, "Welcome to 1892!"

Clara's eyes widened as she stepped from the TARDIS. Yeah, they were in a dark alleyway, hiding the TARDIS securely, but through the small opening her eyes caught sight of the intricate old-fashioned buildings, horses and carts, and sharply dressed men and women.

"This is insane!" She exclaimed with a laugh of disbelief, dashing down the grungy alleyway, and it's the chaos of the world. Dust flew through the air as it slid off the hooves of horses and the wheels of the carts they pulled along with them. Women swayed on by, bearing the length of beautiful dresses, their own arms wrapped in the arms of gentlemen, wearing suits and ties, and fancy hats. Clara marveled at the sights she'd only seen in history books. She whirled to face the Doctor, who stood behind her, grinning marvelously.

"Shall we?" He asked with a wink and extended his arm. Clara gladly accepted it and they stepped onto the dusty path in eager excitement. She stared at the different shops, market places, and people that strode on by. Curiosity over took astonishment as she gripped tighter the Doctor's arm.

"Doctor?" She asked with a small smirk. He leaned down to face her with raised eyebrows.

"You look fine," She began, "But I believe I need a corset."
With a wink, she watched as the Doctor rolled his eyes while she pointed to a small shop on the end of the block, especially for dresses.


"Better?" He asked with a scoff, as Clara spun in her red and black new dress, a short hat hanging in her dark brown hair.

"Much better." She grinned and took hold of his arm again. "So where to, Doctor?" She questioned with wide eyes of anxiousness.

"Upper Wimpole Street," He smiled and led Clara out of the store. "I believe that is where the novelist stays."

The swayed next to one another down the long stretching paths of olden day England. It was fascinating; the sights, the sounds, the smells. They walked for what felt like forever before they finally reached the presumed house of Doyle. The Doctor smiled with a wink to Clara and carefully knocked on the door.

After a few moments of eager silence, a head popped out around the doorframe, narrowing it eyes in suspicion. The elderly man had just a short bit of white-gray hair resting on the top of his oval-ish head, and an extremely presumptuous mustache, which stuck out in all the wrong ways.

Clara grinned widely and stuck out her hand, "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? Yes, I am Clara. Clara Oswald."
She exclaimed, shaking his arm vigorously, to which he simply stared in confusion.

"And I'm the Doctor." The Doctor stated proudly with a petite smile. Clara nodded as she glanced over at the time lord and then back to the novelist.

"I'm a huge fan of Sherlock Holmes!" Clara informed the man.

"A what? A huge what?" Doyle managed in his confusion.

Before Clara could respond, a sweet voice suddenly echoed from behind the old man, who still stood squinting his eyes and scratching his nearly bald head. "Who is it, Arthur?" The voice called and suddenly a woman appeared. She had rather thick, balled up hair of brown, that sat on her head like a bird's nest, Clara thought at least, metaphorically.

"They like Sherlock Holmes, Jean." Doyle mumbled to his apparent wife, and she lit up like a light blub.

"Oh, come in! Come in!" She exclaimed and ushered them through the door.
The Doctor nudged an excited Clara as they walked through the antique walls of the old house.

"Beautiful." Clara uttered, and Jean turned around with a wide grin.

"Thank you, dear." Clara smirked as the woman led them to a small table, dressed up nicely in a knitted table spread. The crazy-haired woman then placed a kettle before the Doctor and Clara as they slowly sat down in the wonky old chairs. Doyle swayed behind them and sat in a sofa chair, right up close to the table.

"You say you are a 'fan' of Sherlock Holmes?" He asked politely.

Clara nodded with a wide smile.

"How exactly are you a 'fan'? In what way do you resemble a means of keeping oneself cool?"

Clara swallowed and glanced over at the Doctor. He shrugged it off and turned back to Doyle.

"She's just odd." The Doctor informed the man and Clara made a face, "But in fact I must say, Sir Doyle, your work is absolutely brilliant."

The Doctor added smoothly. Doyle nodded and Clara grinned happily at the man she was so inspired by.

"Thank you." He bobbed his head slightly with a shrug. The woman then reappeared with biscuits on a tray.

"You glad he brought him back to life then?" She asked with a petite smile, nudging Doyle on the shoulder after she put down the plate of goodies, of which the Doctor was already helping himself to.

"He got beat up in the streets after throwing Holmes off that waterfall." The woman raised her eyebrows and took a sip of her tea.

Doyle nodded with a sigh, "Ah yes. He and Moriarty were supposed to stay dead. I had more important projects to work on." He informed the two guests with a grunt. The Doctor turned to Clara with raised eyebrows, to which she responded with the same notion.

"What do you plan to do next with the characters?" Clara asked, her interest now peeked.
The Doctor glared at her through narrowed eyes, a look that said 'I warned you', and flinched under the table.

"Ow!" The sound emanated from Doyle as he gazed over at the two of them in disbelief.
"Did you just kick me?" He asked in shock, staring wide-eyed at the Doctor, who obviously meant to strike Clara.

He froze and then motioned to his companion.

"Did you just kick him? Why did you kick him?" He questioned Clara, who sat with her mouth gaped open.

"I-" She began with startled eyes of speechlessness. "Yes, I, um, I have leg spasms."

Doyle's eyebrows raised sky high in surprise, and the Doctor held back a laugh.

"Oh, is that contagious?" The novelist asked.
Clara furrowed her eyebrows, "No. I don't believe so."

Doyle nodded with a sigh of relief. "Oh good. Well, sorry, to hear that, Clara Oswald."
Clara swallowed and cleared her throat. "Yes." She replied simply.

The Doctor then sprang to his feet in conclusion, breaking the awkward silence.
"Well! It was an honor to meet you, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle!"

Clara stared up at him, wide-eyed and hesitant.

"You're leaving so soon?" His wife asked with a tilted head of confusion.

The Doctor nodded and reached forward to give the woman a rather large hug.
"Yes, terribly sorry!" He smiled and drew back from the embrace, "It was nice to meet you Miss Jean Leckie."

Clara raised both eyebrows and got up as well, shaking the crazy-haired woman's hand with a small grin.
The Doctor gave Arthur a huge bear hug as well, and took Clara by the arm, dragging her over to the man so that she could say her goodbyes.

"Thank you for Sherlock Holmes, Mr. Doyle." She stated, shook his hand and then carefully wrapped both arms around him. He froze in a sort of disbelief.

The Doctor then intertwined his arm with his companion's, and led her from the small cottage in old England, leaving the two famous icons behind to ravel in their own surprise.

"Did we have to leave so soon?" Clara moaned with a small smirk of disappointment.

"Best not to dwell in the past too long, Clara." The Doctor smiled solemnly.

Clara nodded and sighed softly, "That was," She paused and shook her head, "incredible."