They keep on trying to split us up but they never ever will.
Never say never ever.
The Real Smith & Jones: Happy family by day, fighting for the Earth by night.
If it were possible, the police headquarters seemed smaller on the inside. From the street it wasn’t so bad, but once Rose swung the door open, she found that the hallways were small and cramped, and she had to flash the psychic paper and bat her eyelashes two receptionists behind two different sheets of glass before they finally let her in to the police station proper.
The tiny hallway led out into a wide room with lots of desks where officers were hunched over computers or clipboards, scribbling and typing. In one corner there was a markerboard where the investigation was mapped out in what was most definitely the Doctor’s laughably stereotypical handwriting. No one seemed to give her a second glance, in here, all so wrapped up in the case.
She had no idea how she was going to go about this; the morning’s trip to the TARDIS had yielded a bag neatly packed with his clothes and the sonic screwdriver, but absolutely nothing to give the Doctor as proof of the alien nature of Danny Latimer’s murder. There was the video on board the TARDIS, of course, but in order to see him she’d have to get him on the TARDIS, and that was entirely a different feat.
BUT GUISE GUISE!!!!
THIS ALL MAKES SENSE NOW
IT MAKES SENSE HOW SHE WAS HERE!!!!
I only take the best. I’ve got Rose.