Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

Rose had no intention of leaving the street, but quickly realised that she was far too obvious as she was. It was a little after seven, and people were still out despite the gathering darkness. An old man smiled at her as she passed him, a boy slightly younger than she was looked at her appreciatively, then blushed and fled as she glared at him. She was attracting altogether too much attention.

It took her another hour to get back to the house - luckily a bus pulled up just as she reached the bus stop – and she slipped inside and quickly ran to her room. She exchanged her cut-offs for a pair of black jeans and zipped up her black leather jacket over a dark blue T-shirt. She pulled on a pair of black boots, and then, trying not to think of what she was about to do, a black beanie hat over her loose blonde hair.

Her mum was in the lounge, and she had to pass that way to get to the garage, but luckily the door was shut and Rose just had to call through the door to tell her she was going out. A glance inside the garage confirmed her fears; Mickey's Mini was nowhere to be seen. She unhooked the keys to the BMW from the hooks by the door. Her dad might notice they were missing, but she had to risk it; it was the only black car, and it had tinted windows. The engine purred as she started it up and pressed the remote to open the garage door. Rose presumed her mum had the TV turned up too loud to hear her, but her heart still pounded in fear of being caught, especially since she was technically about to break the law.

It took much less time to get to Wheatfield in the BMW than it had to get back on the bus, and in twenty minutes Rose was pulling up a few houses down from the Reedes' so as not to draw attention to herself. Then she pulled her mobile out of the pocket of her jacket. She had no idea if this would work or not, but she had to at least try. She opened her Internet search engine and typed in MATTHEW REEDE. A lot of results were listed on the screen; she chose the most promising, and breathed a sigh of relief when a picture of a boy five or six years younger than she was appeared on the small screen.

Hi, welcome to my homepage! Read the banner underneath the photo, and after a few seconds of scrolling down the page, looking for clues, she found what she was looking for: A list of phone numbers, including his home phone number. Quickly punching it into her keypad and sending silent thanks that he was enough of an idiot to broadcast his number, she pressed call and put the phone to her ear. After only a few rings, the phone was picked up.

"Hello?" To her disappointment and alarm, it was Sarah Jane's voice on the other end instead of her husband's. Stay calm. You can do this. Rose told herself, and took a deep breath before replying.

"Yes, this is the London police department." She lied, putting on her best accent. She had heard Cassandra the Last Human use it when Rose had been possessed by her earlier that year, and was pretty confident of re-enacting it. To her delight, it sounded perfect and completely unlike her. "I'm calling in relation to your son, Matthew Reede."

She had no idea if this was the right way to go about it, but there was no sign of Sarah Jane suspecting her. She just sighed into Rose's ear and said: "What's he done this time?"

"He was, uh…" Rose's mind went suddenly blank. Grasping for ideas, she had a sudden flash of initiative. "It really isn't that easy to explain over the phone. If you'd come and talk to us and collect your son…"

"Of course. I'm so sorry he's been such trouble to you, Miss…"

"Er…" Glancing around for inspiration, Rose said the first thing that came into her head. "Keys – Keystone…Jackie Keystone. And it's fine, he's no bother…well I mean he is, but…get here as quick as possible, please."

"Thank you, Miss Keystone, I will."

"Your husband too, we need to speak to him." Rose hastily added; she had almost forgotten that vital detail. And nearly bit her tongue as she remembered something else. "And don't try ringing his mobile; we had to confiscate all his possessions when we brought him in."

"Yes, I know the drill. We'll be there as soon as we can. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Reede." Rose quickly hung up, breathing hard. Stage one complete - time for stage two. She waited until Sarah and Tobias Reede left the house and got into their car, then another few minutes after the taillights had vanished from the end of the road. It was completely dark now, the only light coming from behind the curtains of other houses on the street, and an occasional car that trundled past.

"Show time," Rose muttered to herself, and got out of the car. Another glance through the letterbox showed the unnatural blue light had vanished from underneath the door, but she was still sure that something was going on in there. And she was pretty sure it had something to do with Mickey's disappearance. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a couple of carefully selected items: two thin pieces of wire.

She gave a quick glance over her shoulder to check nobody was out despite the late hour; even dressed in black, with the hat covering her blonde hair, she was still visible. And it wasn't normal to be picking the locks in the dead of night. When she was sure she was safe, she set to work. With no idea whether she was doing it right, she let go of the card, shoved both pieces of wire into the lock, and rattled them around. Nothing happened. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember the time she had been taught how to do this.

She had been fourteen, and somehow her wimp of a boyfriend and a couple of his mates had persuaded her to break into someone's house – an old man who they loved to play pranks on. They told her it was just harmless fun, but she still felt horrible as she slid through the tiny window they were all too big to squeeze through, padded softly to the targeted bureau, and set about picking the lock. Except that she hadn't. She had chickened out and left through a side door, leaving Jason and the others shivering outside, waiting for her. He had never forgiven her, but she didn't care. And now she remembered that she had never actually picked the lock – any lock – for nearly six years, and wasn't even successful then.

So she was extremely surprised when there was a faint 'click', and the door swung open in front of her.