maybe i missed him. maybe.

[bowtying]

Right. Yes. Hello again. [ His expression is solemn — eyes just a bit more exhausted than usual. His hands are in his pockets, and he appears far less than his typically jovial self. ] Remembered me, did you? [ He raises his chin, sizing up the state of things with those tired eyes. It's unsure if he finds this one way or the other. The corners of his mouth crease in the echo of a Time Lord's smile. ] Cutting it a little close, I see.

Well, — [ The Doctor waves a hand idly. ] I've told you. I don't do this. Not any longer. [ He holds them both up this time, palms out. ] I know, I know. You're excited. You're — ready for a new start. If we do this — If we try again, you'll have to promise me something. It isn't much. Well, that's a lie. It is — much. It's quite a bit much. But the point is, ... if we do this again, if we make this very quite a bit much of a leap again — Do me the favour of staying.

You can keep up. Well, except for that time with the Daleks. Oh, and there was that instance where we — The point is, we'll need that where we're going. [ He relaxes his shoulders, having bounced back into his usual get-up again. The one that reminds most of a certain yippy stuffed Tiger. He opens up the TARDIS door, quirking a single brow. ] What are we waiting for, then? [ His brow escalates and his eyes widen, as he says quietly ] Geronimo.

Comments

[sharp]

Oi. What's with all the bah humbug, raggedy man?

oh, great, it's you.

[bowtying]

[ Yes, he remembers. This place isn't what it seems. Everything runs differently here. New air, new faces, new species — old friends. It shouldn't be possible, and yet, it is. Then again, when has Amelia Pond ever found herself possible? Never, that's when. Mad and impossible, even after her time.

He can't help but smile. A Christmas miracle, that's what he'll call this. A small, bonkers-shaped Christmas miracle. That's it. ]

What, me? Humbug? Bah! Couldn't be. You've gone and confused me with someone else. Again! Shame on you, Amy. Shame on you. [ He points a finger in her direction, wagging it oh, yes, so very seriously. Mmhm, yes. ]

oh, please, you practically begged me.

[sharp]

[ That's right, nothing is more timey wimey than this place. But Amy is hardly fazed but it, in fact, she looks like she was just straightening his bow tie yesterday. Can't get rid of her. Paradoxes or not.

Even if she knows all about recent ... things. At least he's not alone, just like she asked. ]

Confused? Please. Who else wears that stupid expression along with one of the universe's biggest fashion crimes? Only you, Doctor.

[ she swats away his finger. ] Anyway, it's Christmas, idiot. Anything can happen.

Getting excited for the christmas special?

[theboywiththebook]

[Henry while not being in your canon can tell something's up.]

Is there something wrong? You seem bothered.

all these promos + the marathon? oh yes! & someone is VERY loud.

[bowtying]

[ The Doctor looks round, he turns this way and that, before finally glancing down. He raises his hand up, then down, upon the boy's head. He does this move once more, and appears somewhat perplexed. He blinks and leans slightly to speak directly to him. ] Bothered? Who? ..Me?

Nooo, no. That's just my face. See? [ He rubs his cheeks downward, dragging his face to emphasise his point. ] It's very long. Very bothered. Very .. chinny.

Excellent I'll join you

[theboywiththebook]

[Doctor, don't patronize the child. He nods a little though to the questioning of the older man's bothered attitude. But it's just how his face looks? Okay, he doesn't want to buy it really.]

That's not what I meant. You just seemed sad.

[hullo_sweetie]

At the very least this means you won't be traveling a lone any longer. You get so gloomy and distant when you're by yourself.

hel-lo~ nurse.

[bowtying]

[ He scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. Wife, please. ] I'll have you know that I've gotten really very good about the gloom. I am not one with the gloom! I'm positively ungloomy! [ oh, ooookay. sure you are, doctor. ]

Besides. If you think this is bad, you should have seen my previous regeneration in a rut. All teeth and tears and deeply ... set brow.

Not gloomy. Never gloomy. It's — I — Oh, please.

Hullo sweetie!

[hullo_sweetie]

[All River has to do is raise just one of her eyebrows. Husband. please. She knows all your little tricks and games]

You're pathetically gloomy and grumpy.

[ She wouldn't bring up her parents. That would just make him sad and upset all over again]

Stop projecting. You've had companions before and you'll have them for as long as you travel the universe. You can't help yourself.

hello there~

[remembermeandrun]

[Hiding her excitement is hard, but Oswin's pretty sure she should for now. Even if she doesn't know what's going on in the future, she does know this Clara girl's acting a lot like her. And looking like her to boot, so maybe...

And a faint smile for you, Doctor.]

...Ready to go? [No one can tell her she's not the next companion.]

oh, hello! seen you around & love you already, hi.

[bowtying]

[ It's dangerous out there, for an impossible girl. He should know, he's traveled with one, two, three — Well, so perhaps he's lost count a bit there, but that isn't important. What's important is that it is time, isn't it? Time for a new beginning. Time to find his answers.

He adjusts his bowtie, being sure that, yes, of course, it's fine. His hand extends and he grins from one ear to the other. ]

Odd, ... I was about to ask you the same thing.

sdgjdklg omg thank you <3

[remembermeandrun]

[Impossible? Oh Doctor, you don't know the half of it.]

Thing is, dear. [Faint smile turns to a mirrored grin as her hand slips into his.] I've been ready.

[holmesisnowhere]

Sherlock's never been one for theatrics, unless they're his own. So he's just standing, watching the Doctor's display, the way he gestures, the unhappy quirk to his lips, the bowtie. Everything gets taken in with those pale, hungry eyes, and there's curiosity on the detective's face, certainly but it's mostly muted by a kind of understanding. He won't engage, not right now, not with this strange man and his strange box both being so worthy of being studied.

So he stands there, leaned artfully up against something convenient, a dramatic, slender figure in his long coat and intentionally mussed hair. A cigarette dangles between his white fingers, and he takes drags off of it from time to time.

[bowtying]

The man isn't unseen. With eyes these old, there's a good deal seen. In fact, some would even say too much. So, to say that another pair of observant eyes watching him were going unnoticed by the observant eyes of the observed was, well, impossible, wasn't it? ...Right. Yes, of course it was. He adjusts the collar of his own coat, moving into it against the cold. Snow. He's had enough of that for one evening. And yet, the door of the blue box is locked behind him, and he tosses the key back into his pocket. One night out. Just one. Then, he's off. It will be as simple as that. Yes, he's already decided.

With hands in pockets, he takes a step on, walking forward into the night. Boots crunch in the fresh layer of white, and he speaks against his shoulder as he walks past the man. "Dreadful habit," he says only two words and continues onward. Onward. Never backward.

Alone.

[holmesisnowhere]

"It's better than cocaine." There's something of a really nasty joke in Sherlock's voice, but it's directed at himself, not the other man.

Not so alone. The plume of smoke follows Sherlock as he paces after the man, pausing only to reach out to touch the blue box just to make sure it's there, just to be absolutely sure there's a police box from the 1950s indeed standing in the snow. Inhaling the last dregs of the cigarette, Sherlock dumps the butt into a nearby bin, his leather shoes crunching in the snow as he walks. His coat is buttoned up against the cold, the collar turned up around his high cheekbones. It doesn't take him too much time to catch up - or at least to trail the fellow with the bow tie. Who wears bow ties in this day and age anyway?

Sherlock's not about to give up. Nope. Annoying habit. This man and the blue box are so terribly out of place in London, and Sherlock has to know why.

[ofdrumsthesound]

Where are you going?

[bowtying]

[ Ah. Well. This is new, isn't it? There's a voice he didn't expect to hear. Not here. Not ever again. He feels something — Something akin to disgust. Of all the times, all the moments for him to appear. To appear like this. It's now. Of course it's now.

He sets his jaw. Just for a moment to get a good clench on his teeth. The Doctor glances up, and he knows that face, oh, too well. He's seen it in his darkest nightmares. It was buried in the black recesses of his memories. He'd prefer it stay there.

He remains calm, the Oncoming Storm. His voice is steady. ]

That's a concern of yours now, is it?

[voteforsweet]

You've been getting too wrapped up in yourself, you know.

[DOES NOT APPROVE.]

[bowtying]

[ don't worry, lynda. i don't approve, either. ] Is that what they're saying about me now? [ His is a sad smile, not daring to reach his face. He glances downward, admiring whatever designs the ground has to offer. Oh, Lynda with a Y, hardly the best circumstances to reunite within. ]

[aproperdoctor]

[Martha watches this display with her head tilted slightly, the hint of an amused smile on her face.]

You've retired, have you? I can't imagine that sort of thing lasting for long.

[What she doesn't say is that she doesn't remember him being like this, so subdued, so sad. But this is a different Doctor - literally a different man - and maybe this is just how he is. It still seems strange to her, though.]

marthaaaaa :'D

[bowtying]

[ His ears seem to very literally perk. His chin elevates and his key is stuck between his fingers, as if they've gone and fallen into some sort of temporal pause. The Doctor does a 180 on his heels, and there she is. Miss Martha Jones. Doctor Martha Jones. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't have to see him like this.

That doesn't stop the silence between them. No words spring to mind. Instead, he steps slowly, cautiously. It's almost as if he's prepared to circle her rather like that metaphor about lions and prey. It's quite the opposite here, though. He stands suddenly still. ]

Martha. [ He laughs quietly, noiselessly.] Martha Jones.

Hello there.

[thecricketer]

[A wry, soft chuckle. His eyes are tired.]

We've a bit of nerve, don't we? Asking someone else to stay.

[He, after all, never does.]

[bowtying]

[ There's a face he's not seen in ages. Well, technically. Less ages than his previous regeneration, all things considered. Or is it the other way round? Still, he manages a soft smile for himself. ]

Oh, it's you. Hello, you. Come to tell me how grumpy we've gotten, then, have we?

[sexyoldgirl]

It's very much. Asking someone to stay. Very important moments happen when you say those words.

[Shame that not all of them can stay when he asks. She moves closer, reaching up to straighten his bowtie.]

But it makes me very glad to see you stop sulking around and finally going on adventures again. Time for both of us to make a change, don't you think Thief?

[bowtying]

[ The sight of Idris sends him into a brief state of panic. It's impossible. But he enjoys that fact, knowing that every day is filled to the brim with impossible things. He likes to do at least 7 of them before he's had his breakfast, impossible things.

He looks her up and down, and only she can provoke such a look of nostalgia, amusement, and soft happiness from the Time Lord. ] I do, actually. I do think.

Often. Most times.

Hello again.