A/N: Hello lovely readers! This is going to be an all original story, which will eventually take us to Imperial Rome, set between The Crimson Horror and Nightmare in Silver. It's a sequel to my own work 'More than Modesty.' Though if you don't want to/haven't read that, so long as you know that The Crimson Horror is any Whoufflepuff writer's dream with Clara and the Doctor pretending to be married, and that I am implying that the memories Clara forgot in Journey to the Center of the TARDIS keep cropping up in her head you will probably be okay, though I make no promises.

Big thanks in advance to reviewers/readers/favouriters/etcetera. I have been so warmly welcomed to the fanfiction writing world, it is greatly appreciated. I should be updating this fairly frequently.

Disclaimer: The only part of Doctor Who I own is my unabashed love of it. The rest belongs to the BBC and friends.

Make Haste Slowly – Chapter 1

Well, as it turned out the reason that the Doctor had a trouble free night after 1:52AM on Villenguard was because we dealt with the trouble before his past self arrived. It didn't take long really. The Doctor had neglected to tell me that the plantation had once been a weapons factory, and that there were a lot of people, namely arms dealers, who were rather upset about its closure, hence a bomb being delivered as a gift. It didn't take us long to figure out how to defuse it though once we made it through the tangle of banana trees. The party even continued on as planned afterwards, and I think the jubilation of the workers about not being blown sky high made it all the merrier.

So it definitely wasn't the post-Victorian value head clearing walk that I had thought of, but I can't say that I didn't enjoy it. When we were both back in the TARDIS, laughing and short of breath because of the mad dash we'd just made when we saw the time was 1:50AM, I really didn't want to ask him to take me home again. And judging by the look he gave me, like he was dreading the moment I asked, he didn't want me to either. So I stole one last night away in the stars, saying that I needed to get some sleep before I went back to being the most-time guardian of two kids. He didn't argue. He just asked if we could pop into the TARDIS library before we went to bed.

Yes… before we went to bed. I'm supposed to be protesting that, but I had figured it wasn't going to be an issue, not that it was really an issue, I just assumed it wouldn't be happening anymore now that we weren't Doctor and Mrs. Smith.

We went to the library, and I fell rather ungracefully into a bookshelf when we entered. It was a similar sensation as when I staggered behind the screen before we went to see Mrs. Gillyflower… Luckily this time though I was out of the Doctor's sight, as he had disappeared around a shelf, returning a few minutes later when I was fully recovered with an ancient looking tome written by some guy called the Venerable Bede. Maybe I shouldn't have wished for him to read me something other than Dickens'. Well I shouldn't have wanted him to read me anything at all really.

But I didn't object, and I fell asleep with my hand over his hearts again, rather quickly unfortunately since it was so late and I was tired. Not sure why I am thinking that me falling asleep quickly was an unfortunate thing, that was why he stayed after all, to make sure I slept okay without the nightmares. Right? Ahem, regardless, the next morning came as scheduled, and he dropped me off at the Maitland's as planned.

Now that I am back in what should be boring everyday life however, if I could chose, I would rather be back in Villenguard trying to defuse the bomb sent by angry arms dealers rather than be here dealing with the potentially explosive situation before me now.

That situation being that my charges have somehow managed to locate photographic evidence of me showing up at random points in history, one of which hasn't even happened yet as far as I know, I can't believe that I am going to spend more time in Victorian England, but I guess the Doctor is going to have to try and redeem his snog box's accuracy at some point and will want another go at landing in London.

I also can't believe that Angie and Artie have somehow managed correctly conclude that the Doctor and I have been time traveling. They are full of surprises. I'm glossing over the fact that they have also concluded that the Doctor is an alien, and my boyfriend. We have now returned to the point I was in at Sweetville, which is that there are far more important things to worry about right now than what other people are insinuating about my love life…

"Clara come back!" Artie shouts as I try to make a dash for the stairs and the safety of my somewhat makeshift room in the Maitland's attic. I can hear him and his sister coming up the stairs behind me, and I know my getaway attempt (professing that I needed to call my Dad) was somewhat desperate and that running from this problem wasn't going to solve it… So I resign myself, stopping halfway up the last flight of steps to my attic and turn to see them looking up at me expectedly.

"He wasn't planning to be here again till next Wednesday, so maybe I can talk to him about it then, but I have no idea when he will be back after that or if he'll be able to make arrangements for more than just one extra person." Okay, that isn't entirely true. He would be back in three hours, twenty seven minutes and eleven seconds from the time he left me if I asked him. Well assuming the TARDIS obliged which is always a bit iffy when it comes to me but still… They don't need to know that…

"He's your boyfriend, you can just call him to talk about us having a go." Angie says, crossing her arms again and giving me her know it all look.

Technically I still have the number for the best help line in the universe… And technically, as the Doctor said the first time I saw him; 'mobile phone' is a surprisingly accurate description for the TARDIS. I know that Angie and Artie aren't going to give up on this, so it might actually be a decent idea to consult the Doctor on how to deal with it. I'm not really sure what he will do, though I really hope he won't be mad; it isn't my fault we keep visiting the somewhat recent past when all of time and space are at our disposal.

"Call him Clara! Please!" Artie begs.

"First I've gotta call my Dad, then I need to start on Dinner." I say, taking a breath and trying to reassume my 'I am the boss' façade instead of the 'I am panicking right now' face I think I had on.

They are about to openly protest before I continue.

"But, after that, and if you both are set to your homework, I will call the the… John… And see about you coming with us sometime, okay?" Let's not call him just the Doctor in front of them yet, we don't need to have that conversation without him. He can explain why he doesn't give out a proper name.

Brother and sister exchange a look, no words needed to conclude that this is an agreeable arrangement for them before they head back downstairs, Artie pumping his fists into the air as he goes.

All I can do is put my face in my hands as I think about everything that could go wrong. The Doctor and I are going to have to have a very serious conversation about the meaning of the words 'completely' and 'safe.' Maybe we can go visit wherever they write the definition of those words into the first dictionary or something so that the message sinks in properly.

Oh well, I have a few hours before I have to worry about how to talk to him about this, and I really ought to call my Dad, and dinner does need to be made. It might not be saving the world, but I don't walk away from my responsibilities here either.