Soufflés, Skype and Sherlock Holmes

High Heels

Clara said she would meet them at the facility - the mysterious, Baskerville army base that was shrouded in outlandish rumours. She had packed her bags quickly before rushing back into her flat. The TARDIS was in her bedroom. Not exactly surprising, but if Sherlock stumbled in here...Clara shuddered. She knocked on the doors and they squeaked open. "Clara!" The Doctor cried, happily. He raced back to the consul. "A number, any number - just give me a number," he demanded, mischief written all over his face.

Clara grinned and thought for a minute."One thousand, eight hundred and...ninety three."

The Doctor swivelled some knobs and pushed a load of buttons. "Side trip?" He proposed. "This is a time machine."

Clara squirmed but her smile for the better of her. "Geronimo?" She said, arching an eyebrow.

"London 1893, here we come!" He slammed down the lever. "Geronimo!"

.

Long story short, it wasn't London 1893, but rather Scotland 1893. Clara was glad to arrive in Dartmoor without the constant idiocy of Strax - the walking potato - overshadowing her every step. Even Sherlock could at least recognise her gender. Clara was at the gates into the Baskerville research lab, shrouded in secrecy. A young and outgoing man, of some sort of military rank greeted her sternly at the barred gates. Clara smiled and waved off the cab. She wasn't stupid enough to make the Doctor park the TARDIS at the front gates. She caught a cab from Dartmoor and left her bags at the local inn. The boyish soldier was nice enough as Clara showed him the ID badge. The stolen ID badge. The psychic ID badge. He looked at it, seemed impressed and scanned it under a machine. Clara plastered a nonchalant smile on her face as she adjusted her blazer, handbag and rather uncomfortable set of black heels. At least she felt important. "What is the nature of your visit, Doctor..." Clara smirked slightly, "Oswald...?"

"UNIT sent me - mandatory inspection," she replied promptly. Clara propped her sunglasses on her head. "Any chance there's a Holmes running around here? I told him I wouldn't be late but..." Clara frowned at her watch, "I'm afraid I might be." She beamed at the young soldier. "Fancy helping out a damsel in distress?" No more words were needed as Clara was personally escorted towards the facility.

Clara spied the boy's getting out of their massive car. "Oh, so sorry!" She called out, waving briskly. "Cabs are endangered here, I think!"

"Clara!" John exclaimed. "So um..." he trailed off lost. Clara trotted towards them as fast as she could.

"Glad you could join us," Sherlock finished.

Clara patted the soldier's arm. "I had a fine guide." He blushed and ducked his head. He wandered away, clearly dismissed. A jeep pulled up sharply in front of them and another young soldier jumped out.

"You look different," Sherlock murmured, his voice whispering by her ear.

"Nothing wrong with a bit of theatrics," Clara replied smoothly even though her feet ached. She started when Sherlock grabbed her hand and shoved something small into her palm.

"Play along - Henry Knight guessed so now we have to keep up the act. We met in London, through friends and workmates. Yes, we share a flat. I asked you 6 months ago, you said yes. Had to get the rings resized." All of this was hurriedly muttered to her, blindingly fast by Sherlock just as the grave faced soldier was walking towards them. Sherlock only finished when the soldier's boots crunched on the gravel in front of them.

"What is it? Are we in trouble?" The fresh faced soldier was demanding and forthright.

"Are we in trouble, ma'am," Clara corrected, gritting her teeth. She glared at the soldier and tutted disapprovingly. This was rather fun.