~ Doctor Clue ~

The sun was low in the sky when they stepped out of the TARDIS. They had gone back in time, and it would soon be dusk. John looked around and almost fell back in surprise when he bumped into an alien. The inhabitants of Avalon weren't very different from humans, except for their vividly colored hair and metallic skin. The one John had almost been knocked over by was female, with bright blue hair and a shiny jade face. She cursed at him and pushed around Sherlock who had come to investigate.

"Well the natives aren't all that friendly. How come they speak English here, Doctor?"

The Doctor turned, his sonic screwdriver buzzing in his hands. "It's the TARDIS. Complicated to explain, but she translates for you and the alien. You can speak, and they understand."

"Brilliant." Sherlock looked back at the TARDIS, which none of the Avalonians seemed to notice.

"Yes, very. We should head to the Bird Market, that'll be the last place I saw her."

The Bird Market wasn't as busy as it had been the last time the Doctor was there. He had to pry his two companions away from the birdcages before they could voluntarily jump into the singing birds' beaks.

John walked over to the souvenir shop, leaving Sherlock to question the Doctor some more.

"Did she leave you here and go somewhere else?"

"No… actually, come to think of it, she did mention going to look for food. I searched around for her, but there was nothing. No lead, or not any that I would have noticed."

"Strange…" Sherlock searched the dirt ground around the buildings. "Why haven't you gone back in time to stop her from leaving?"

"Revisiting the past is dangerous. If I were to see myself, or have someone else see me, it would create holes in the fabric of time. All I could do was bring us to the day after. No clues missing, that way."

John walked towards them, waving a map in his hand. "I found a map, I think we should search around before nightfall."

A few Avalonians were standing around the food stand, eating what appeared to be miniature pumpkins. The Doctor introduced himself to the man attending the stands to ask about a certain brunette. Sherlock stayed back to inform John on the details.

"So we have no idea where she could be?"

"None at all. Fun, isn't it? I always loved a missing persons case."

"Sherlock, this isn't a missing persons case! She practically fell off the face of the earth- er, planet."

They turned around when the Doctor came back, his face dismal. "He wasn't working here yesterday. Apparently the Avalonian that was here when Clara bought food never showed up for his shift."

Sherlock's eyes lit up in glee. "A mystery within a mystery!" he said almost cheerfully.

"Were looking for Clara." John started. "Perhaps the man working the food stands is at home, sick. We can't solve every-."

"John, Sherlock is right," the Doctor interrupted. "Avalonians don't get sick, and they have an extremely long lifespan. It is doubtful he ever got sick, let alone died. I fear that someone is working against us. A very powerful someone." The trio shifted, wary now, to peer over their shoulders.

John breathed slowly, in and out. "Ok, so, what do we do now?"

The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, when you think power and girl gone missing, what comes to mind? Nevermind, that's too vague." He groaned and put his hands to his face in exhaustion.

"Doctor? Sherlock and I could go look for more leads. Maybe there's something we missed. We can all join back here later."

The Doctor didn't move, just muttered through his hands, "Yes, wonderful idea. I need some time alone."

Sherlock left the Doctor in front of the stand to walk back to the main square. John jogged to keep up with his stride. "Did you find anything back there?"

Sherlock looked towards him and then back to the Birdcages that were coming into view. "No. Not yet. I need to visit my mind palace."

He sat down under a shop window and closed his eyes, all the while muttering to himself. John sat next to him, keeping an eye out for anyone that could mean harm.

Sherlock gasped as he came out of his meditation. "Give me your phone." Not waiting for an answer, he fished around in John's pocket and grabbed it triumphantly.

"What are you doing? We don't have wifi here!" John tried to take the phone away, but Sherlock stood up, trying to get a signal. He then dialed a number, and smirked down at John when someone on the other end picked up.

"Hello, this is Sherwood Holme, I recently found your number. Bad Wolf Businesses, if I'm correct?"

John stared up at Sherlock in bewilderment. " ' Sherwood Holme?'"

Sherlock put a finger to his mouth as he tried to listen to a response. He looked confused for a moment, then his expression fixed on a certain point in the distance, as if he had remembered something. He slowly bent down to place the phone on the ground. A tinny voice could be heard repeating something on the other end.

"Sherlock, what was it? What did they say?" John asked quickly, nervous about the expression on the detective's face.

"They didn't say anything. It was a recording." He replied stiffly.

"A recording? As in an answering machine?" John picked up the phone, and the voice, or, rather, voices became clear: " 'Human slave trade?'

'It's a Bird Market. For aliens.'"

John dropped the phone in shock. "But those… those are our voices. How is this even possible? We were in the TARDIS when we had that conversation."

Sherlock nodded, " Yes. I don't know how this recording exists, but it does. And it frustrates me that I don't know who wanted us to have it."

John stood up from the ground and dusted himself off. The sky was a dark foreboding navy blue. Levitated, glowing orbs bobbed up and down, acting as streetlamps. He stared up at the sky, which shimmered with different colors. "What I don't understand is why this so called 'Bad Wolf' is targeting us."

Sherlock paced in front of a cage. The bird inside was sleeping, its breast gently moving with every beat of its heart. "Perhaps the point wasn't to target us, but to help us. To remind us of what we said, because it's important. We're missing something, John." He paused in front of the cage, tugging at his blue scarf. "We're missing something big, so big that it's just staring at us right in the face!" He turned, exasperated, and looked into the eyes of the bird he had woken up with his rant. His jaw dropped in awe as something dawned on him. He grabbed John by the sleeve and pulled him towards the cages.

"The birds, John. It's the birds."