The Doctor reached over to push the button, then turned his attention to blowing out the candles, muttering to himself every time the metal floor crackled and shocked his hand. The TARDIS was up to something. The temptation to ask what the Hell it was almost unbearable, but remembering the last time she'd been 'up to something,' the Doctor tolerated the shocks and kept his anger to himself.

Then everything stopped. The shocks stopped, the movement of the ship stopped – even the candles went out. There was a loud shudder, like a sigh, and the Doctor cracked.

"All right, what are you doing now?"

I'm not letting you leave. I know what you're thinking.

"What else is new?"

We're in London. I'm not taking you anywhere else until you get her back.

"For Christ's sake, she isn't coming back!"

Given a choice between making you try and letting you throw yourself out into the Vortex, what do you think I'm going to do?

The Doctor sighed and made for the door, talking to himself about how the Gallifreyans had been right after all, and that he never should have come near this planet.

Slamming the door shut behind him, he found himself in the centre of London as the TARDIS had said, a short distance from some nondescript bridge over a busy road.

Okay, maybe not such a busy road. That road in particular had been blocked off close to the bridge, and the only vehicle nearby was a large black van. A huddle of people knelt round something on the ground.

"Let her get some air!" The group moved back.

And the Doctor swore that as soon as he got back inside the TARDIS, he really was going to raise Hell.