I've stopped trying to understand why I write the things I write. I suppose this is mostly inspired by a class I've been taking covering detective fiction, so if you've ever read any Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe you should feel right at home. This'll be my first attempt at some kind of human-AU so it should be interesting. Enjoy!

Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock

Chapter One

It had been slow lately. Too slow. Not that he'd ever wish for something unfortunate to happen, but in his line of work that tended to be the prerequisite for action. No one ever bothered with someone like him in times of peace and happiness, after all. It was a bleak observation, but one he had grown used to over time.

"Hey."

He must have been staring off into space, for when he looked up Clara Oswald was shutting the door behind her. "Hey. Something the matter?" He asked his secretary.

"There's a woman out there asking to see you. Potential client, I think—why do I make these for you when you let them get cold all the time?" She pushed his unfinished cup of tea across the desk, making room so she could sit on the corner.

"Because I pay you so well?"

"I beg to differ on that. Anyway, you haven't got any appointments, so you could see her. Just thought I'd let you know before I sent her in."

"Well, thank you." She smiled and hopped off the desk, making for the door. "Clara?" When she half-turned back he prompted, "Name?"

"Mrs. Williams."

He nodded once. "Send her in."

Clara went into the outer office and he heard her say softly, "You can go in now."

"Thank you," a woman's voice, a bit thick with some kind of emotion and rather heavily accented answered, and then a tall, glamorous redhead walked into his office. She seemed a bit unnaturally pale and her eyes were red and puffy. It didn't escape his notice either that she was dressed mostly in black.

But when she looked at him, something closer to a laugh bubbled past her lips. He took his feet off the desk and sat up straight, more than a little insulted. "What?"

"Sorry, sorry, just- seriously, tea?" She gestured to the half-empty mug. "I thought detectives were all the whiskey or bourbon type."

"Hey, this is the strong stuff," he remarked. "And I don't drink. How am I supposed to get any work done if I can't see straight, eh?" She chuckled again and he cracked a smile. "Now sit down and tell me what's brought you to a private detective of all people."

She did sit, but didn't speak. Instead, her eyes darted around as if taking everything in, openly curious. When they alighted on his nameplate, she read aloud, "'The Doctor, P.I.' Is that so I know I'm in the right place?"

"No, it's in case I forget my own name," he shot back.

She shook her head. "That can't be your real name."

"Real is relative. I've found it's useful in my line of work. Speaking of which, Mrs. Williams—"

She winced. "Pond, please."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you've got real and fake names, too?"

"No. I mean, Williams is—was—my married name." She bit her lip and looked down for a minute. "Rory's dead."

"Ah," was all he said. The widow wiped at her eyes once before looking back up, a determined glint to them.

"That's what they're telling me, but they didn't find my husband's body. One week and they're giving up. He disappeared after work one night, but there's been no evidence one way or the other."

"Where does he work?" He grabbed up a notepad and pen.

"Hospital. Royal Hope."

"A doctor?" He wore a half-smirk at the coincidence, but she shook her head.

"Nurse." Her mouth became a thin line as if she expected him to make some sort of remark. He usually had no trouble running his mouth, but it was not his habit to rile a widow, even a potential one. Especially if she was about to become a client.

"His phone?"

"Went missing with him."

"Email?"

"Clean. Something from his dad, some spam, nothing unusual."

"And he said nothing to you about going somewhere after work? Nothing strange or unexplained in his behavior?"

"He wouldn't have lied to me," she stated firmly, frowning deeply at him.

"I don't know your Mr. Williams, but I know plenty of husbands who would," was all he said, snapping the notebook shut. He stood, readjusting his braces and grabbing his tweed jacket off the back of the chair. When he'd pulled his arms through the sleeves he turned to see her watching him with an almost amused expression. "What now?"

"You really don't look like a detective."

"Well, forgive me for disappointing you," he huffed, rolling his eyes. A bit self-consciously, he fixed his bowtie under her humored gaze. "Anything else we should discuss?"

"You'll look into it?" She seemed relieved by this, and he realized that meeting with and hiring out a private eye wasn't exactly a situation she was likely familiar with.

"Yes, I'll 'take the case' as it were."

"What do I pay you?"

"I have a going rate which you can talk to Clara about. If she likes you, she'll cut it by half."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "And how do I get her to like me?"

"Oh, tell her you think my chin's ridiculous, that usually works," he replied and she gave another laugh. He prided himself on the fact that she was clearly in better spirits than when she'd arrived. After all, that's why he'd gone into this business; the Doctor, here to help. He moved to the door, opening it. "Now, I've got to get to work on this, but my secretary can give you my details, Ms. Pond."

She stood as well, but paused in the doorway. "Amy."

"Sorry?"

"My name, I'm Amy. Amy Pond."

He glanced at her face, then down, taking her hand. "Right then, Amy Pond. I'll let you know once I've found anything."

"Thank you. Really. I just- I have to know," she told him seriously, and he nodded.

"Clara will take down your contact information. Clara!" He called.

"I can hear you," the brunette remarked five feet away at her desk.

"I'm going out. Ring ahead at the Royal Hope and ask them to pull up any files or video surveillance from Mr. Williams' last shift. Oh, and would it be rude to stop by Kate's without—"

"Yes, it would be, I'll ring her, too," Clara cut over him.

"Right, I'll just leave you two to chat, then?"

"Doctor?"

"Hm?" He stopped halfway out the door and glanced back to see Clara holding something out to him.

"Your keys?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought Bessie wasn't back from the shop."

"She's not, practically totaled," Clara rolled her eyes. "Got you a rental."

He stormed over to her. "Clara, I don't need a rental, I need my car!"

"Too bad, you forgot to renew your oyster card, so it's this or walking."

"What's wrong with walking?" He grumbled under his breath.

"I'd offer you a lift, but Rory's car is still impounded," Amy Pond told him, and then grimaced. "He never let me drive it anyway."

"Men and their cars," Clara scoffed.

"No, it wasn't like that. He just refuses to believe I've gotten better since the Unexpected House Incident." While that certainly sounded intriguing, what caught his attention more was the mix of past and present tenses, like she couldn't decide which was right. He hoped for her sake it would be the latter.

"Ok, ok, I'll give the rental a go," he acquiesced, snatching up the keys.

"You better, went through a lot of trouble to get it. Had to have them drive it over, actually, couldn't seem to get the doors open. They don't think the locks are faulty, though."

"Just what I need, thanks!" he said with false enthusiasm. She whacked him on the chest just as Amy Pond nudged his arm. "Oi! Alight, can see you two will get along just nicely."

With that, he strode from the room and hurried down the steps of the office building from which he rented the two little rooms. Outside by the curb, parked in his usual spot, was not Bessie. It wasn't even a roadster.

It was a sleek little thing in a deep blue, and it seemed to unlock almost before he'd put the key in. The inside was more spacious than he would have guessed at first glance, and he felt a certain thrill once he'd gotten behind the wheel. This wasn't a Bessie. There was only one thing he could call this.

"Hello, Sexy."

Sexy purred to life under his hands, and he was off to begin the investigation.

Ok, so I had quite a bit of fun with this. Hopefully little jokes/references to the actual series came across. I'm aware that starting another multi-chapter fic is perhaps the last thing I should be doing right now, but sometimes I have to write something new or I can't even get any work done on the older stuff. I promise to get some of those updated within the next week or so, though. But the next chapter for this will likely be up soon as well. I'm excited to hear any feedback you might have, so thanks for reading and please review!