When the Sun Sets ☼ Eleven x Reader

XXVI - The Angel Detective

Central Park, New York City. April 3rd, 1938.

'You're stressed. Why are you stressed?'

'Because, [Y/N], I'm going to be early bringing these coffees back to Amy and the Doctor. About seventy years too early, if we're being specific!'

'Seventy-two, actually. Now hush.'

He was taking this surprisingly well. After being escorted into a taxi at gunpoint, you were actually quite surprised at how easily Rory was adjusting. As far as he was concerned, you hadn't left the limbo. For three weeks.

'Where have you been anyway?'

'New York. 1938. I thought I told you to hush.'

He glared at you, and you sighed. Reluctantly, you gave him a summarised explanation of your time since the Dream Lord. There wasn't a lot to say, really- just that you had woken up on the other side of the planet about seventy years before everyone else and were now assuming the role of a fictional detective in the hopes that somehow, the Doctor could find you and bring you home. You were surprised it'd taken him this long to find you, and you were still confused as to why he sent Rory as the TARDIS representative.

'Thanks.' he muttered sarcastically as you were forcefully guided from the taxi and into the grand building ahead of you. Met immediately by a large staircase, you wriggled out of the grasp of the man who had abrasively goaded you into the room.

'Early Qin dynasty, I'd say.' you comment observing a vase on your left.

'How on Earth do you know that?' Rory questions in a hushed tone.

'You learn a lot from three weeks unattended in New York, brother mine.'

'Correct.' a voice sounds from the top of the stairs. It came from a relatively large man with patchy grey hair framing the bald spot on the top of his head. He wore a pinstripe suit, and carried himself exactly as you expected a man of his calibre to. 'You're very well informed.'

'And you're very afraid. That's an awful lot of locks for one door.'

You look back to the door you came through, taking careful notice of the seven locks it bore. Your new persona of Melody Malone was something you admired. She was like your inner confidence projecting outwards and into the fedora placed gently on your head. You were more observant as Melody, more assertive- and you liked it.

'This one,' the man you had now learnt preferred to be referred to as Mr Grayle, spoke to one of his henchmen as he indicated to Rory. 'Put him somewhere uncomfortable.'

'With the babies, sir?'

'Yes, why not. Give him to the babies.'

You didn't know who 'the babies' were, but you assumed they were not pleasant company. As the man forcibly clasps hold of your brother's shoulders, you offer him a sympathetic smile with a look in your eyes that you hoped reassured him that you would get him out of whatever situation he found himself in when he was discarded.

Attempting to maintain composure, you strutted confidently around the hall, and analysed what you saw in front of you as you imagined the Doctor would in your situation- only with a touch less flamboyance. Listing off components of the apparent nature of Mr Gayle's pompous personality, you spotted a vase with a familiar phrase painted on the bottom.

Come along, Darling

You didn't outwardly address the message, but the knowledge that the Doctor was on his way was enough to motivate you.

'Let's see,' you start. 'Crime boss with a collecting fetish. Whatever you don't let anyone else see has got to be your favourite. Or possibly your girlfriend.'