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Clara froze in her tracks as a rhythmic knocking sound echoed down the corridor. It was just like Vastra told her, to find the Doctor, she’d have to ignore all keep-out signs, go through every locked door, and run towards danger at every opportunity. She crept down the corridor towards the noise and stopped outside a door with a little hatch installed at the bottom.
“Hello?” she whispered as loud as she dared. The banging noise continued. She knelt on the floor and pushed up the hatch, trying to peek inside. A hand grabbed hers. She muffled her scream with the hand she had free and pulled the other free. The banging sound stopped.
“Doctor? Is that you? Can you hear me?”
She heard the rattling of chains in response.
“I’m going to open the door, okay? Just stay put and don’t scare me like that again.”
She took the lockpick Vastra had given her from her pocket and fiddled with the lock. She was starting to get the hang of this. She opened the door and nearly screamed again. The Doctor looked just like the corpse they’d seen at the morgue. His skin was bright red with a waxy sheen, and he seemed almost completely paralysed, his mouth frozen open in a permanent scream of agony. He was wearing only his union suit, and his wrists were shackled. The room had no bed or furniture, only a scattering of straw on the stone floor.
She hurried to him and started to pick the lock to his shackles. “I’ll get you out of here, it’s okay.”
She saw his clothes folded up neatly in a pile in the corner of the tiny room. She tucked the clothes tightly under her arm and pulled the Doctor to his feet. He had to lean on her, but he was able to very slowly put one foot in front of the other by pivoting on each still leg. She tried to bring him back the way she came, but he shoved his weight against her and swung in the opposite direction.
“You want to go that way? Alright, if you insist.”
The Doctor led her to a row of small metal chambers, like upright coffins. He lifted his arm a minute amount, like he was trying to point at the chambers.
“In there?” She left him balanced precariously on his feet and pulled open the door to the closest chamber. Then she hurried back to him and helped him inside. She gave him his clothes and put the sonic screwdriver in his hand. The heavy door swung shut. There was a green glow that shone through the edges of the door, and a hum. Then the door burst open and Doctor emerged. He twirled on the spot, his usual flurry of energy.
“Missed me?” he said.
Clara grinned, so relieved he wouldn’t be trapped in that awful state. She turned to keep up with him as he circled around her, laughing and jumping in the air. Suddenly he seized her by the waist and dipped her, kissing her hard on the mouth. She was breathless when he pulled away.
“You’re feeling better,” she said, laughing.
“You have no idea,” he said, already whirling away again.
He wasn't thinking straight, she reminded herself. It meant nothing. Just like the flush in her cheeks meant nothing. Of course that was when the brainwashed cultists caught up with them.
“Great, attack of the supermodels,” the Doctor said. “Time for a plan.”
“I’ve got it.” She pulled off her impractical dress by tugging at the rows of snaps set in strategic places, revealing a leather catsuit underneath. Another gift from the lizard woman detective who claimed to be the Doctor’s friend.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s okay, I go with Angie to her taekwondo lessons!”
“Taekwondo for year sevens!” The Doctor grabbed her arm and pulled her away.