Hello, again! Sorry, I didn't post for a while, but was without internet on a school trip. Anyway, SUMMER! I'll keep posting as often as possible. Enjoy!

Police Constable Jameson gave his final nod to the camera, lowered his hat and left the interview, walking back with his head held high to the scene of the Whiteley's shooting. The entire corridor was sectioned off to the public, with the exception of a nosey reporter trying to sneak a photograph of the shattered glass and wreckage of the shopping centre. Men in white forensic clothes were photographing the scene whilst senior officers stood around jotting notes. Constable Jameson was proud. He had a right to be. He'd successfully disarmed a gunman in a public area without a single fatality, a day before Christmas. He would surely get the promotion he deserved.

"Well done, Jameson," Constable Price congratulated him, smiling her usual smile. "We should have more officers like you on the force."

"Oh, you don't have to," Jameson blushed.

"No, I really mean it. You've saved a lot of people for one more Christmas. Here. Have this on me," she smiled, handing Jameson a candy cane. "You deserve an early Christmas present."

Jameson was flattered, and a little awkward. "Thank you."

"I'll see you on Christmas Day then, right?" Price asked, walking away.

"I'm sorry?" Jameson inquired.

Price turned to face Jameson, "Mine. Christmas party. Christmas Day. Any time after EastEnders. Wear something Christmassy – a hat at least."

"Ok," Jameson nodded, "I'll see you there."

Jameson smiled to himself as Price left the crime scene. Just as she left, Jameson turned, facing a large man in a suit. It was Jameson's boss – the notoriously hard-to-get-along-with-or-bear-to-be-around Captain Rippon.

"So, sport. What's gone and happened here then?" Rippon asked, looking at Constable Jameson sternly.

Jameson nearly choked, so nervous around the man. He stood up tall, fixing up his uniform. "A gunman firing shots at the public. The entire shopping centre was evacuated by security. We apprehended the gunman. No civilian fatalities, but the gunman was injured. A bullet shot to the shoulder. The paramedics said he'll recover fully."

"And the press?"

"Well, a gunman opened fire in a shopping centre in the middle of the pre-Christmas shopping rush – the press have had a field day, but we are doing our best to keep them out. All official statements have gone through the Sergeant."

"Yes, I saw you on the news. Well spoken."

"Thank you, Sir."

"And when you and – Constable Spencer, was it? – apprehended the gunman, who exactly formulated the plan?"

"Well, that would be me, Sir. Just a standard plan but it was mainly the heat-of-the-moment."

"No need to beat yourself down, Constable. You did well. Very well considering the circumstances. In fact, so good that I have a proposition for you."

Jameson gleamed – a promotion? "And what would this proposition be, Sir?"

"Well," Rippon began, "I don't usual get involved in cases. I have a sort of pick-and-choose attitude – mysteries, hiests, serial murders; the sort of stuff that could make a good novel. The thing is, I want you to help me. I've assembled a small group of people from various departments; they continue their jobs as usual but assist me in cases that spark a certain interest. You've caught my attention today. Not just that you apprehended a culprit, but you stayed throughout the night to clean up the mess. And it's Christmas Eve! That shows the sort of commitment and attention to detail that I'm after. So what do you say? In or out?"

There was only ever one answer. "I'm in, Sir."

"Good, Constable. I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"What are you doing in my office?" Miss Rubens inquired, closing the door behind her, trapping the Doctor and Sasha in the room.

"Miss Rubens!" Sasha smiled, stepping towards her to shake her hand. "My colleague and I are so pleased to meet you! We are from Beverly Newman Entrepreneur Awards, and we are delighted to be awarding you with this year's Beverly Newman Outstanding Businesswoman Award. Congratulations!"

"You must be so pleased!" the Doctor added, clapping as he played along with Sasha's cover.

Miss Rubens refused to shake Sasha's hand. "Why are you looking through my items?"

"Because . . . Erm," Sasha stuttered.

Miss Rubens stepped towards Sasha, instilled fear straight through her. "Why won't you tell me who you are? One of these 'social-media-is-destroying-humanity' types? We get a lot of them. Journalists maybe?"

"You got us!" the Doctor cried. "Internet theorists. So tell us, what happens to peoples' minds when they are uploaded to CyberSocial?"

"Ah! Common misconception. CyberSocial just allows us to communicate with parts of the mind like never before. Their minds are still their property and we are not able to interfere with them. Perfectly legal," Miss Rubens clarified.

"But how can you be trusted with such valuable data? You could easily steal information from the mind of anyone. If you got into a politician's head you could cause chaos," the Doctor argued.

"But we would never dare of such a thing!" Miss Rubens gasped. "CyberSocial keeps its morals close to heart."

"You would have the whole world in the palm of your hand. You could even control what people do; how they behave."

"Such an event would be unethical."

"Not if the user was tricked into downloading hidden software with the app."

"The app has been scanned and checked by external companies due to the nature of it. You would presume they would've found something."

"Not if it was encrypted. Just like that symbols on the lock for your door."

"It would've been decrypted."

"Oh, but I doubt humans have the capability to decrypt . . . Cyber codes," the Doctor grinned.

Miss Rubens gave the Doctor a hard stare, understanding. "You know the Cybermen?" she asked.

"Search your data banks. I am the Doctor," the Doctor declared.

Suddenly, Miss Rubens stopped. She stopped moving, breath; just standing frozen as her eyes flashed with an eerie blue light.

Sasha's jaw hung. "What the hell?" she muttered.

Then Miss Rubens spoke, her voice now electronic. "Data for 'The Doctor' available on the Cyberiad Databanks. We know who you are. You must be upgraded."

Slowly, Miss Rubens transformed. Her entire body changed, splintering into pixel-like shapes, before morphing into a Cyberman!

"What is she?" Sasha gawped.

"A Cyberman. Monsters made from metal, desperate to upgrade any living creature to their Cyberiad," the Doctor explained.

"You mean, they turn people into them?" Sasha gasped in disgust.

"Exactly," the Doctor replied.

"But, Doctor, if CyberSocial launches, nearly the whole of the world will be under their control," Sasha realised. "And they launch CyberSocial tomorrow morning. Everyone'll just mindlessly download it, without a second's thought, and be uploaded. Millions of people will be under control before the EastEnders Christmas Special."

"Exactly. And the world will just fall into their grasp."

"CyberSocial will launch on Christmas Day. All will be upgraded," the Cyberman-Miss Rubens replied.

Knock, knock, knock! "Miss Rubens? You called for security but we can't get in. It's your passkey; we don't understand it and you haven't registered a backup."

"When did she call security?" Sasha wondered.

"I am directly linked to the building's computer system," Miss Rubens replied, having turned back into her human, red-haired form. "Come on in! Quickly!" she called, faking fear.

The office door swung open as three large men in black padded uniforms, carrying guns, entered the room, pointing their weapons at the Doctor and Sasha. The Doctor and Sasha jumped back in both surprise and fear as bright lights were aimed at their faces.

"They're intruders," Miss Rubens informed her security. "Social media activists! Take them to the usual drop off."

"The usual drop off?" the Doctor inquired.

"We have a . . . A place we send the people who make too much noise. And well done, Doctor! You've made the cut. You made the cut years back," Miss Rubens grinned. "Cuff them."

"Woah! Wait!" the Doctor cried, pulling Sasha back as the security guards approached. "You lay a finger on her, oh, I dare you! Don't you dare thing we are that easy to brush under the carpet!"

Sasha grinned inside herself – the Doctor had noticed the wink she'd given him, and he'd understood the plan. As the Doctor rambled, distracting the guards, Sasha pulled her phone from her pocket, concealing it as she began to text behind her back.

Emergency! Track my GPS sashaparker123 emily231103.

"Ooh!" Claire cried, jumping as her phone buzzed in her pocket. "I've got a message."

"Hallelujah," Alec joked. "Come on then, what does it say?"

"'Emergency! Track my GPS sashaparker123 emily231103'. What does that mean?" Claire wonder. "Your sister doesn't half send me some rubbish."

"We need to go!" Alec announced, understanding the message.

"Why?" Claire wondered.

"She'll be with the Doctor and they're in danger. Real, proper, life and death danger. We'll take your bike," Alec decided, pulling Claire to the front door of the flat.

"My bike? Where are we even going?" Claire panicked.

"That was Sasha's email and password. I can track her using the GPS on her phone so we can go after her," Alec explained, opening the door and pulling Claire out into the corridor.

"Seriously? We're going on a motorbike chase through London?" Claire gasped. "You can't be serious! You definitely can't be serious!"

I hope you enjoyed that! Will post again soon! Keep review! :D