Welcome readers to my first fanfiction! I've had many ideas for this story for a while now and have finally taken the time to type it all up. This story will be set up like the show with seasons and around 13 episodes in a season, with each chapter being a portion of an episode. I have big plans for this story so please if you see anything wrong with it please tell me. If the characters are under developed, or the if the Doctor and my OC's relationship is under developed tell me. Especially about their relationship because then when I add emotional parts later (not romantic) it will make sence. Also tell me if there are any loose ends. I hate when writers especially professional ones just forget their own subplots. All editing set aside a hope you enjoy it and thanks for taking the time to read my story and possibly review (wink , wink). And now dear readers...
Disclaimer I don't own Doctor Who yet, but maybe I could win it in a poker game (now if only I knew how to play!)
I looked down into the water. It was so big… so BIG! I don't know if you've ever flown over the Atlantic before but it's HUGE!
This year my mom had decided it was time to send me off into the world. So once I'd finished school she had sent me off to go live with my brother Trevor. And that was fine by me 'cause guess were my brother Trevor lives? London, England baby!
I was trading my life in for a whole new adventure. I looked down into the big blue ocean again and watched as it slowly shifted back into the browns and greens of land. That's when my heart skipped a beat. I was in Europe. I was in EUROPE! I was half way across the world. Better yet I was in London, England. A place I had always dreamed of visiting!
"Please fasten your seat belts as we make our descent. And thank you for choosing Atlantic airlines for your travel needs."
Finally! I bulked my seat belt and waited anxiously for the plan to land, trying my absolute hardest not to fan-girl in front of all these people.
Once I had collected my bags and passed security I scanned the crowd for my brothers face. Signs with names on them were floating around, so I looked for my name too. After several minutes of searching I saw him. He was holding up a sign that read, Annoying Kid Sister, in black sharpie. I glared at him until, smiling, he flipped the sign over to read, Blake Nicoles, I ran over to him and throw my arms around his neck, (In a hugging way not a choking one).
"I haven't seen you in forever!" I cried.
"Oh come on," he said as we parted, "you saw me yesterday." He added as he tucked a strand of my short brown hair behind my ear.
"Video chats don't count genius!" I said as I playfully punched him in the arm.
"How did you like my sign?" he asked. I responded by throwing my luggage at him. He grinned, "This way, I've got a cab waiting." I hadn't seen Trevor in person since he left for London three years ago, due to his job. Don't ask me what he does, I couldn't remember, he changed them so often.
I was to stay with him in his flat since his old roommate moved out. After a very uneventful drive to my brothers flat 10 blocks down, he gave me a tour.
"This is my house." He said upon entering as he dropped my luggage on the floor.
"Very descriptive tour Trevor." I said sarcastically. I looked around. It was small but quant. It had a kitchen and a small counter to eat at, that lead into a small living room with a couch and a T.V. on the wall. The walls were painted a pale tan and there were several windows, one in the kitchen the other by the couch but nothing could be seen in either. "I thought this place was bigger?"
"Yah, well you know those little laptop cameras make everything look bigger on the inside, kind of like that zit on your face last spring." I resisted throwing something at him again by asking.
"So where is my room?" I said glancing down the hallway behind me.
"First door on your left."
I practically sprinted down the hallway. Once I got there I burst through the door to find the rest of my belongings that were shipped in before my flight. I smiled at the already opened boxes. Trevor must have opened them to help me unpack, or he was looking for things I stole from him when we were kids. I started to go through my things pulling them out as needed: my lamp, my alarm clock, and boxes a pon boxes of my art supplies. I glanced up at the walls, my new white canvases. Ideas were already floating around in my head on what to paint. One thing I hadn't noticed earlier was one window in the corner of the room. I ran to it. The ride to the flat had been boring sightseeing wise because it was so dark. I had arrived to a sleeping city, but I could now see I slight outline of some attractions I couldn't wait to sketch.
"Blake." I heard Trevor call from the hall.
"Hm." I replied coming out of a blissful trance. He walked in and said from the door.
"Wow, you look tired, how about I go to a little place on the corner I know and get you a real british take-out meal."
"As opposed to an imaginary meal?" I asked sarcastically. And at that moment my stomach growled.
Trevor chuckled, "I'll be back soon."
I sat down on my mattress which had rested on the floor, and just kind of sat there, my eye's closed, and I started to make plans in my head of what I needed to accomplish tonight. I needed to open more boxes, pick out some clothes for tomorrow, get pajamas, sort through my things, and...
At that point I fell asleep not to awake till Trevor came back with the food.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
I pounded my fist on the alarm clock to stop its insistent wining. I then ninja rolled out of bed only to then trip over two or three boxes and hear them come crashing to the floor. I'd practice my ninja skills later when I wasn't so tired. I changed into an my turquoise jeans and throw on a black long sleeve shirt with a white jacket on top. I pulled on my also turquoise converse and grabbed my art bag slash backpack. As I walked into the kitchen I managed what sounded like a cross between a good morning and a Frankenstein growl at Trevor and began to make some toast.
It had been three days since my arrival in London and I hadn't made any headway on the box situation, which explained the slight limp I had a pon entering. On the first day Trevor had taken me all over London sightseeing, and on the second day he'd shown me important places like were all the stores were and stuff like that. On the second half of that same day we went over British things I ought to know like sports, politics, money, and my favorite the accents/words category. And to be completely honest I was quite good at it, and had an amazing accent.
And well the third day I was currently living so more on that later.
Trevor was drinking a cup of coffee or tea (I didn't bother to check) and was getting ready to go to work (and I still didn't know what he did). Wow I guess I'm just not observant in the morning. After several minutes he turned to me suddenly and said, "I hate to do this to you Blake, but you know I have no choise in the matter." I groaned my protest, waiting for the inevitable. It was then that John dropped the dreaded paper before me. I quickly glanced up from buttering my toast to read Jobs List.
"Trev' do I have to do this now?"
"You know Mum's worried about you. She expects by our next video chat you'll be on your way to getting a Job, and if you're not there'll be Hell to pay." He said with a knowing look. "Just promise me you'll look." I glared down at the wicked newspaper again. I sware it was laughing at me. I glanced up to Trevor's pleading face.
Then with a sigh I stuffed the paper into my art bag. Trevor smiled. Oh don't look so smug! I thought.
"Do you have any plans while I'm at work?" he asked. I watched as he filled up his cup again with... Oh I guess it was tea. Then he checked his watch. This time I was the one who grinned.
"As a matter of fact I do." Trevor looked up from his watch expectantly, one eyebrow raised. " I'm going to sketch Big Ben."
After several minutes of walking I found a street corner that looked like to would fit my needs. It had been awkward and lonely walking through the city alone. And I found myself slipping into an old habit, one that I'd developed a couple of years ago. Instead of talking to myself, like an idiot, (Which I still do sometimes) I 'd talk to the people around me. For example while walking I was thinking of what material to sketch with when I stumbled a pon a young couple. I proceeded by asking the women, "What do you think, should I use pencil or charcoal?" Then I turned to the man and added, "Oh charcoal is good for shading, your right, but it gets all over your hands." I showed him my hands front and back then turned. My next victim, an old women jogging, gave me a strange look as I proceeded to say, "Your brilliant! I'll just spray the picture after so the charcoal won't smear. Good thing I brought my spray." After the women rudely hit me with her purse I turned back to the couple. "Alright I'll start with the pencil then shade with the charcoal. Thanks!" I gave then a quick hug and ran off.
I glanced back at the couple and almost laughed. One of the perks of talking to people like that was their dumbfounded expressions when I was talking and after I left. I shook me head clearing it from the memory and turned back to the street corner. There was a fountain in the center of the square surrounded by some benches. Across the streets there were little shops with people milling about. Artists were already set up in the square and I took my place among them. I found a bench and pulled out my supplies. I looked around at all the other artists. Their drawings however all kind of looked the same. Sure there were slight changes in style, color, and the sort but it was all just Ben and a couple of buildings.
Now I know I wasn't going to be the only one sketching Ben but I still wanted to stand out. I wanted my art to be different. After pondering this for a moment an idea struck me. So took out my pad and pencil and laid down on the bench positioning my self so I could still see Ben. Then I proceeded to drawl Ben sideways. (Yeah you read that right sideways).
After about an hour or so I sat up and stretched. I sighed. I looked around at all the surrounding pedestrians still walking around. Then for a little inspiration I closed my eyes and just listened. I listened to everything.
I heard the children playing in the fountain, splashing in the water, giggling and screaming in delight as they played. I heard artists scribbling down their art pouring out their visions and dreams. Every laugh of success and eraser rub of failure. I heard music pouring out of the shop windows and open doors. The bells ringing as people entered and exited. The beeping of the cash register as it cashed in a sale. The beeping of phones as people talked, texted, and twitted. Pedestrians as they talked about their normal boring lives yet each was different each was important. People's shoes smacking the pavement. And bikes as the whizzed by their bells ringing. But there was one sound in the background. One sound broke through the noise. It sounded like... Like a man. A man mumbling to himself. There was a mechanical whirling sound too. I opened my eyes, and turned around.
Across the street there was a figure of a man holding some sort of contraption and mumbling to himself. I couldn't see him very well with the cars going by but it looked like he was wearing a tin foil hat of some sort. He was probably just some Nutter like we had back in the U.S. Just some conspiracy freak going on about crop circles and the like.
So I ignored him and went back to what I was doing. But with my luck of course the strange man crossed over to my side of the street, his muttering getting louder. Sometimes he'd hit the thing and curse in some foreign language under his breath. And of course to make the whole thing even more awkward he started walking up behind me. It would go something like this... He'd walk up behind me, his contraption's whirring getting louder he neared, and look up at me. He would think on this a moment then shake his head fix a few dials on the machine and keep walking. He did this several times while I tried desperately hard not to notice. The second time he came round I got a good look at him.
He looked like a professor at some sort of university (probably science considering the contraption). He wore dark pants with red suspenders and a tweed coat over a white shirt. His hat was in fact not made of tin and was more of a helmet with many obscure dents in it. To finish of his ensemble he wore a lovely red bow-tie much like the finishing bow on a present. But he was more like a present from an estranged uncle, and I hadn't the slightest idea what to expect on the inside. But I had a feeling it wasn't going to be socks.
The third time he approached me I had to intervine."Can I help you?" I asked.
Startled, he looked up at me, "What? Oh, no. I don't suppose so..." He looked down at his device and up at me again and it looked like he wanted to say something but was holding his tough.
"What!" I insisted. He looked up at me a grin on his face.
"You wouldn't happen to be made of prelonium with a hint of sour apples would you?" He asked the question with such sincerity I felt I would have to answer in the same fashion.
"Nope, I use a nutmeg kiwi shampoo not apples. But if it helps some people think it smells like bananas." I retorted as if that was the expected answer. Instead of yelling at me and getting mad he actually laughed.
"Ha! I love bananas, bananas are good. And extremely fun at parties."
"Yep nothing screams incredible party fun like a bucket full of potassium." I replied sarcasticly. He stood there grinning at me then realized he was still holding the device.
"Oops! Ha, um guess I got to get going," he said, "but it was nice talking to you!" He added as he sauntered off.
"Glad I could help!" I called back.
What a strange man, I thought and went back to my sketch. But I was distracted. I couldn't get that strange man out of my head.
Who was he?
What was he doing?
What was that machine"
And where in the world did he get such a fashionable bow-tie?