Waiting for the Doctor

[grrl_reporter]

Sarah's sitting at her kitchen table with two glasses and a bottle of Lagavulin in front of her. She taps anxiously on her glass, waiting for someone.

he's not going to show. No reason that he should, really. I'm sure he's fine. This new girl - assuming it's a girl, I always wondered about him and Harry - might have it covered. Yeah, he's probably

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[rude_not_ginger]

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry, madame," the Doctor said, leaving the strange, angry woman's yard and attempting to avoid being thwatted again by her broom.

How wonderful. He was a street away from Sarah's house, but at least he made it to the right area? He half-walked, half-hopped in the direction of her actual house, making sure that the woman with the broom wasn't following. He'd get the TARDIS out of her bush later. Not like it could've been towed as the woman had threatened, anyway.

"Right. Sarah Jane Smith." His knuckles rapped loudly against her door. Well, he hoped it was her door. Be rather embarrassing if it wasn't.

[grrl_reporter]

At the sound of the knock, Sarah jumped up and ran to the door, trying to stop her heart pounding quite so loudly.

Opening the door, she bit her lip. He hadn't regenerated. Whatever he'd been though with Rose, it had hurt him mentally, not physically.

But he was here. She let him pull her into a hug before dragging him into the house. Over his shoulder, she saw Alan Jackson staring at them through his living room window. Looking at the room above, she saw Luke and Maria with their faces pressed against the glass like the bloody Bisto kids. She waved her hand, desperately trying to be subtle, in the universal gesture of 'if you two don't leave me alone with him, I'll feed you both to the Bane.'

Closing the door, she looked at him again.

"You look...well. Tired, though. Come and sit down, I'll get us a drink."

[rude_not_ginger]

"Tired?" Well, that was a bit right for him at the moment. He'd left his current companion behind because...well, it was easier to simply have drinking and Sarah on his own. He didn't need medical knowledge about the effects of alcohol buzzed in his ear every five minutes.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and perused the home around him as he headed towards the kitchen. Sarah Jane Smith, investigative reporter, wasn't doing half bad for himself, he was pleased to see.

Upon entering the kitchen, his eyebrows shot up at the liquor on the table. "Single Malt, eh? Here, I thought the glass of scotch was figurative."

[grrl_reporter]

"You look like you need more than figurative alcohol, Doctor," she grinned. "Let's take this upstairs." She paused, and blushed. "I meant...I've got a study, in the attic. I think you'd be more at home there. Anyway, I think Luke left his football boots in the lounge again. Teenage boys are messy buggers