The upper bar was supposed to be for light meals during the day and had splendid views of Soho. But when the Doctor and Craig and Martha were ushered up the ornate staircase with dozens of other guests, the little tables had been pushed to one side.
"Let's do the show right here," laughed Craig as he pointed in the doorway. An odd number of impromptu musicians were setting up and tuning their instruments. Some were already allowing their practices riffs to blend into an introductory background tone.
"I wish I'd kept up my drum skills," nodded Craig. "That kit is very impressive." He found a vacant bit of the bar counter that he could squeeze onto with Martha and the Doctor. He nodded firmly to the woman behind the bar and she pressed three pre-poured frothy pints toward him.
"I have the feeling you come here to join in, Doctor," said Martha squeezing between her friends. "Am I right?"
The Doctor winked. "Maybe later. Maybe all will be revealed."
Martha laughed, tapping Craig on the arm. "The Doctor's last big secret," she whispered.
The majority of the band were playing together now, although a few stragglers were still chatting to each other, quaffing drinks and flicking ash onto the floor. "That's a cracking tune. What do they call that?" asked Craig.
"It's 'Birdland'. Something to do with Charlie Parker."
"Yeah, Charlie Parker was great," said Craig vaguely.
Two well dressed young men in suits caught Martha's eye and mimed an offer of a drink. She shook her head firmly and looked back to her friends. "Where did our host go to?" said Martha looking around the crowded room. "I knew he was up to no good. The Doctor can't stand still for two minutes."
"He had to fix up something," Craig replied sipping his beer. "Whatever that means."
"Is he going to sing?" Martha was intrigued. She eyed the gathering collection of amber beverages and wrinkled her nose. The smell was a bit too strong.
"My money's on a rocking drum solo," Craig suggested. Martha shrugged and caught the eye of the industrious barmaid. She pointed to a man drinking a glass of wine and mouthed "I'll have one of them."
After solos from the piano and each of the two trumpets and much applause, the improvisation leveled out to a tense interlude.
"There he is," Martha
The Doctor was at the back of the more casual members of the group playing a chrome triangle. He looked very happy but was striking the metal without haste, preferring to chat with whoever stood to either side of him. "I can hear it with the snares, but it's barely one note in twelve," Craig explained. He smiled again. "It's just ridiculous."
Martha looked at Craig bemused. Craig raised his eyebrows. "Takes all sorts," he said.
:::
"That was marvellous young man," said an ageing beatnik as he left the room.
"Yes. Well done," agreed a young woman dressed in ornate clothes.
The Doctor clapped vigorously as the musicians finished up and began to disperse for a much needed break. "Don't mention it. All fine music. Can't get enough."
"I think I'll go to the little boys room myself," said Craig. He pointed to the tiny fraction of the bar where he had been able to prop his elbow. "Keep that exact spot for me," he commanded the Doctor.
"Yes sir," said the Doctor with a smile. He feigned a salute which knocked his fez toward the back of his head.
Craig wandered out into the hall smiling and patting random strangers on the back. "Alright mate?"
The Doctor looked around the crowded upper bar and smiled faintly. As his gaze reached Martha, he saw she was staring intently at him.
"What are you thinking?" she asked mildly.
"You know he's up to something," he replied holding the smile.
"What could he possibly be up to?" she scowled. "He doesn't exactly have your genius for lobbing a spanner into any piece of machinery he happens to be passing."
"Hurtful," said the Doctor looking forward again. "It just takes one man…"
"Or woman…" she interrupted.
"Well, yes, 'or woman', but how did you know what I was going to say? How can you interrupt without knowing the end of what I'm going to say?"
"I'm sorry," she replied. "It was a bit of a habit back in the twenty-first century. Here, it's almost mandatory."
He looked back to her again. "Yes. It only takes one man - or woman - with a little knowledge to make a big mistake."
"Is that a saying?" she asked. "It sounds like something my grandmother would have said - or might be saying right at this very moment."
"What do you mean? It's not a saying. It's just a thing I said." He rubbed his chin. "We do have a proverb - on Gallifrey - but you wouldn't understand it. It's to do with a bird and sticks. It doesn't end well."
"Stay out of his way, Doctor," said Martha. "He's got to make his own decisions if he wants to. You don't rule time and space, you know."
"Well," he huffed. "I was never a fan of the Time Lord hierarchy, but surely 'Time Lord' has got to mean something?"
"You're not his nanny. How much damage could he do?"
"But I know him, Martha. I know of him. Much more than just saying hello and having a laugh. I know that at some point he gets married. Don't you see?"
"Don't say any more. I asked you not to."
"But I can't tell whether he's before or after. Why is he here if he's happy? Do I have to send him back if he's going to miss a significant moment." He sighed, turning and leaning both hands on the guarded portion of the counter. "And there is more. You'll hate me if I tell you, but please let me tell you."
She shook her head and raised her hand gently to his face. "No."
