Oookaaay. Hello everyone! This is a new project of mine. I just really got into the idea of a Victorian Doctor Who AU, and my friend egged me on, so here it is.

In case anyone who has read my other stories is wondering, no, have not given up on them. I'm just in a bit of a Merlin slump and so I'm writing other things to help me get back in the groove.

ALSO. In case it wasn't clear: David Smith is the Tenth Doctor, and Matt Oswald is the Eleventh.

"I just don't know what to do anymore."

Matt Oswald let his head fall back over the top of his chair, his hair flopping about with his movements. His face, though young, bore signs of fatigue and wear seen mostly on those a decade or two older than him. One hand rested on the arm of the chair. The other nursed a glass of alcohol- which alcohol, he wasn't sure. He thought the night started out with brandy or perhaps scotch, but now everything just tasted the same.

"I don't think there's much else you can do, dear." A sympathetic female voice lilted towards him, accompanied by the sound of a baby's soft cries. Matt lifted his head to face the speaker. Indeed, a blonde woman with a baby at her hip stood before him, though sitting in the chair opposite remained his drinking partner, a portly gentleman with equally fair hair and the shadow of a beard on his chin.

"Sophie's right, Matt," said the man, one by the name of Craig Owens. The woman standing was his wife, Sophie Owens, and the gurgling baby boy was theirs. They'd called him Alfie, but Matt, in his present state, had taken to calling him Stormageddon. "You've done all you can. The police did what they could…"

"They barely did anything!" protested Matt. "They searched for her for what, a day? Maybe two? Then they came back to me and said that they couldn't afford to waste time searching for a- a country girl! They couldn't even say her name!" He tilted the rest of the glass's contents down his throat and threw his head back once more for dramatic effect. "Bloody useless, the lot of them!"

"Now, now," Sophie walked closer to him, after depositing Alfie to her husband's care. She gently pried the glass out of Matt's grip and set it aside. "Drinking away your problems won't find Clara, now will it?"

He stared at her. "... Guess not. But what else can I do? I can't find her on my own- I don't even know where to start. And with all those other disappearances..." Matt shuddered.

Sophie frowned, and it was apparent that she was all out of sagely, motherly advice. But Craig, it seemed, was not. He leaned forwards in his chair, careful not to disturb the now asleep baby in his arms. "Actually, I think there is something you can try."

Both his wife and friend looked at him. "What?" asked the former.

"Matt, have you ever heard of the Doctor?"

Matt blinked. "Doctor who?"

"He's this detective... He solves all the crimes the police won't- or can't. People say he's brilliant."

The more inebriated gentleman leaned back in his chair, processing this information. "The Doctor, huh… Why would he help me?"

"He takes cases if they're interesting enough. He doesn't even charge, or so I've heard."

Matt was happy to hear that. He didn't have more than a penny to his name after he and Clara moved to London. Getting work as a tutor in London was much harder than he'd expected. "Alright, so… How do I find this Doctor?"

"I think he lives on… what was it? Trisda Street?"

"Trisda?" repeated Matt. "Never heard of it."

"It might be something else."

"Well…" Matt slouched a bit. He brought his hand up to reach for his pocket watch, rubbing his thumb over the smooth metal. "I guess if nothing else, I can give this Doctor a chance. I'll ask around. See what people know."

Sophie and Craig smiled at him, a gesture that was half-heartedly returned. In truth, Matt had little hope. If the police couldn't be bothered, why would this man calling himself the 'Doctor' be any more willing to help?

A few short days of asking around and occasional bribing later, Matt found himself at the residence of a Dr. David Smith- reportedly the famed detective. Craig had been fairly close with the name of the good Doctor's address- it was Tardis Street, not Trisda. At least he'd gotten the letters correct.

He stood in front of a bright blue door, marked with a gold sign that displayed the number '10'. Steeling himself for the worst, Matt grabbed a hold of the knocker and banged it three times. The door was answered surprisingly quickly. A young woman, probably a maid judging by her attire, stood on the other side of the threshold. Her skin was dark in color, her features kind but intelligent, and Matt found that she was very pretty. She smiled and curtsied at him, further proving him correct.

"Hello, Sir. How may I help you?"

"Oh, I… Is this where the Doctor lives? The detective?"

She nodded. "It is. Do you have a case for him?"

"Well…" Matt scratched the back of his head. "I suppose I do."

Immediately, the woman stepped aside to let him enter the house. After he did, she closed the door and started to lead him further in. The inside of the Doctor's home was tastefully decorated, though there appeared to be a mishmash of clutter and strange objects littered here and there. Various pictures lined the walls, ranging from what appeared to be family portraits to photographs of random people, and newspaper clippings detailing various crimes filled in the space in between. When Matt finally tore his gaze away from the messy interior, he saw that the maid guiding him was regarding it with apparent disdain.

"I just finished cleaning this morning," she bemoaned, catching sight of Matt's curious stare. "For a genius, the Doctor isn't very good at self-maintenance."

Matt hummed. "A genius, eh? Is he really that good?"

"Oh yes. But don't say that to him." The woman gave him a long-suffering look. "He's already got an ego the size of London."

He smiled a bit, and let her continue leading him through the clutter and mess. Eventually they reached a sitting room, where they found numerous clockwork machines and toys covering almost every surface, from tables to chairs to even the floor. And sitting in the center of the room, leaning over one such mechanical device while holding a screwdriver to its core, was a man.

He dressed rather modernly in a pinstriped suit, complete with a silk tie, though his hair was quite frankly ridiculous. It stuck up in various directions and it seemed that no force on the earth could contain it. And the man was young, too, though not more so than Matt. His face spoke of someone in his early thirties, but his bright and inquisitive eyes, which were focused intently on the device in front of him, may have fooled others into believing he was much younger.

The woman cleared her throat to call the man's attention. He didn't look up.

"Sir," she tried again. "Excuse me, Sir?" Still nothing. "Doctor Smith!"

Finally, the man- the famed Doctor- looked away from his toy. "Martha, I'm busy!" His voice was tinged with the proper estuary accent, though there was a hint of something else beneath the complaint. Scottish, maybe?

"Yes, yes, very busy with your toys," Martha rolled her eyes. It was far out of her position to act so flippant towards her employer, but Matt found it quite entertaining. And the Doctor didn't seem to be offended, either. He merely sighed and reluctantly put down his device on the table. Martha smiled victoriously. "Thank you, Sir. Now, you have a client." She turned to Matt, encouraging him to step forward. As he did so, the Doctor sat up attentively.

"Really?" he asked, eyes sparkling. Matt felt nervous once those eyes were focused on him. "Why didn't you just say so? Come in!"

Martha gently nudged Matt forwards, while the Doctor cleared away the junk covering the seat next to him so that Matt could sit there. Once he was settled in the chair, Martha curtsied.

"I'll bring in some tea," she announced, and then she was gone. Matt wished she had stayed. Being alone with the mysterious stranger, regardless of whether or not he could help Matt, made him feel anxious. Especially since the man was still staring at him. His fingers sought out the silver chain hanging from his vest, finding solace in its familiarity.

"You've lost someone," he said suddenly, causing Matt to jolt in his seat.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"Is that why you're here? Because you've lost someone?"

"How could you possibly-?"

"I know that look," the Doctor gave him a lopsided grin, though it wasn't necessarily a happy one. "Seen it too many times to count."

Matt's grip on the pocket watch chain tightened. "... Yes," he finally said. "Yes, I've lost someone. My little sister, Clara."

"I'm sorry," said the Doctor, with genuine sympathy.

"I've tried the police," Matt went on. "They barely tried looking for her. Apparently they have better things to do than look for a country girl lost in the big city."

"Sounds like them," the Doctor agreed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name?"

"Matthew Oswald. But I prefer Matt."

"Good to meet you, Matthew!" The Doctor extended a friendly hand towards him. Matt shook it, feeling slightly more comfortable, though he was annoyed that the Doctor called him by his full name. "I'm David Smith, but most people call me the Doctor."

"I've noticed."

"And you've met Martha," he continued just as the maid reentered the room, bearing a tray with tea and biscuits. Matt nodded, thanking Martha as she poured the tea. She spared him a smile. Then, as soon as she appeared, she was gone again, presumably off to clear up the mess in the main hall.

"So," the Doctor grinned over his cup. "Tell me about yourself."

"… What?" He was confused. Surely he should be asking about his sister, not him?

"I make it a point to get to know all my clients," he answered with a shrug. "That way it feels more like I'm doing a favor for a friend rather than solving a client's case. Feels too much like police work the other way."

"I… see… Well, what do you want to know?"

"Let's start simple. Where are you from?"

Matt paused for a moment, unsure of how much he could really share with this man, friendly as he seemed. Finally, he relented. "My sister and I are from a village called Leadworth. It's up north."

The Doctor hummed. "What brought you to London?"

"Clara is a governess. A family in London needed a new one and she decided to take the job."

"So you moved with your sister?"

"I wanted to make sure she was safe," he said defensively, though it was clear that the Doctor meant no offense. He was even smiling at Matt like he was the pinnacle of all brothers, which he did not feel like at the moment.

"No no, that's good. Lovely, even. Your parents didn't mind?"

Matt shrugged. "We lived with our uncle."

"Oh. Sorry."

"He was alright with it. Encouraged me to go with her, even. We've always been rather protective of her."

"I can see that. Now, what about you? What is it you do, Matthew Oswald?"

"Me?" He blinked. "I'm just a tutor. Well, sort of. Not teaching anyone at the moment."

"A tutor, brilliant. Love a good tutor. Specialties?"

"History and Science. A bit of Literature, too. And a few languages..."

The Doctor's grin widened, and Matt suddenly felt embarrassed.

They sat in an oddly comfortable silence for a while, sipping at their tea and glancing at one another every so often. But Matt could not dance around the subject any longer.

"Sorry," he spoke up. "But I came here to ask for your help."

"To find Clara, I presume?"

"Yes. I was told that you're very good at what you do. Can you help? I don't have much money to pay you with, but..."

The Doctor cut him off, "Oh no, none of that, please! I don't accept money for this sort of thing." He smiled that infuriatingly happy smile again. "And I am very good at what I do. So, yes, I will help you."

"Really?" Matt's grin nearly split his face.

"Of course. I'll just need a few details, and we'll be set." The Doctor's face became softened, more sympathetic. He reached over and placed his calloused hands over Matt's smoother ones, radiating compassion and warmth. Matt should have jolted at the touch, but instead, he found himself relaxing into it. "I'll find your sister, Matthew, safe and sound. I promise."

Matt looked in his eyes, jade green to dark amber, searching for the slightest hint of a lie. When he found none, he returned the Doctor's strong grip and whispered, with all the gratitude he could muster, "Thank you."

Matt left Number 10 Tardis Street half an hour later, leaving David Smith to contemplate his case. He was a nice fellow, that Matthew. David genuinely wanted to help him out. He went over the facts that Matt had provided him concerning his sister's disappearance in his head. She had been returning home from her governess duties- already odd, since governesses were meant to live in the home of their employers. Though, according to Matt, her employers were a relatively small family, and as such did not have room for Clara in their house. She and her brother instead lived with their friends, the Owens family. But that night, she never made it home. This was over two weeks ago.

She'd disappeared somewhere along Latimer Street, the longest street between her employer's home and her own. While not usually deserted, there were plenty of spaces the Doctor could recall that could disguise a potential kidnapping. If she was actually kidnapped, that was. There was always the possibility that Clara had just run away. Perhaps she disliked London and its crowded streets, being a girl from the sparse countryside. Or maybe she grew tired of her overprotective brother and opted to escape.

David shook his head, muttering to himself. No, Matthew was a perfectly lovely gentleman. He didn't even look vaguely threatening. He seriously doubted anyone would bother running away from him. Besides, this case was too similar to a few other ones that were cropping up in the news. Disappearing girls, taken in the night... He doubted it was a coincidence.

Martha returned sometime later, exhausted from cleaning up after the Doctor's usual messes. They both knew it was a futile effort, since all the clutter would be back by morning, but she, with her usual grace, merely sat down on the seat Matt used to occupy and let the Doctor ramble on about his newest case.

"So a kidnapping, then?" she said once he was done, arriving at the same conclusion he had.

"It seems the most likely. You'll recall that several other young women have disappeared over the last few months."

"Right. The police think that Jack the Ripper is back in London. That or a copycat criminal."

"What the police think and what is actually true are more often than not totally different things," the Doctor huffed. "I doubt the two are connected at all."

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay. So it's a different madman running around, kidnapping young girls."

"Most likely. But this new madman hasn't left a trail of bodies in his wake- at least, not yet. So what purpose does a person have for kidnapping another?" He directed the question at Martha.

"Extortion?" she suggested. "Holding people hostage for ransom from their loved ones?"

He shook his head. "Matt's not rich enough to be a target for extortion, and only one of the other missing girls came from a high-class background; her family hasn't received any messages demanding ransom, either. What else? Why kidnap women exclusively?"

The maid thought hard for a while, and then it suddenly came to her. With a fresh look of horror, she murmured her new answer. "Prostitution?"

The Doctor replied with a grim nod. He reached across the table and picked up the photograph that Matt left behind for him- it was of Clara. As far as siblings went, they didn't look terribly alike. Matt's face was square-ish while hers was a more rounded heart shape. Still, both were attractive enough in their own rights. He showed the photograph to Martha.

"She's very pretty," she observed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Which makes her a prime target."

"Exactly." He tucked the photo into his jacket's inside pocket.

"So, where do we start?"

"There are too many brothels in this city to search for Clara." The Doctor made a disgusted face. "Not that I'd want to set foot in those slave institutions. No, we'd be better off retracing her steps. Perhaps that will even lead us to the other girls."

"To Latimer Street, then? Since that's where Miss Clara vanished."

The Doctor frowned, leaning forwards in his chair to address his maid. "Martha… I'm not so sure about you accompanying me on this one."

"What?" she gawped. "Why not?"

"Because, all the victims so far have been pretty young women of varying social classes. You're a pretty young woman. I don't want you…"

"Getting kidnapped?" she finished for him, her arms crossed over her chest like a disapproving mother. "You think I don't know how to take care of myself?"

"I didn't say that."

"You definitely implied it."

"Look," sighed the Doctor. "All I'm saying is that perhaps it's best if you aren't on the front lines on this venture. At the very least, I'd like you to be accompanied at all times. You're not just my maid, Martha, you're my friend."

Her features softened, and she uncrossed her arms, though she still looked fairly annoyed. "Okay, fair enough… But I still think you might need help on this one."

"That's true enough. But who could I ask? Donna's out of the question, for the same reason you are. Jack's still out on his sabbatical, or whatever he's calling it now. And my brother is still in America." The Doctor groaned, slumping in his chair.

Martha paused. "What about Matt?"

"Hm? What about him?"

"Well, Miss Clara is his sister. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help out. Besides, it's not as if he's stupid. You said he was a tutor?"

"Yeah…" the Doctor relented. "But I doubt he has any experience with this sort of thing."

"That hasn't stopped you before."

He stared at her for a while before shaking his head with a small smile. "You're right about that. Alright, but I'll ask him tomorrow. I think he's had enough for the day, don't you?"

She stood up from her chair and grinned. "Probably. Shall I send him a telegram in the morning?"

"No," the Doctor rose with her. "I think it's better to ask him in person. For the time being, let's get the maps out; we need to figure out where he lives, after all."

And so ends part one of the first story. Please, tell me what you guys think, I'd love to hear some feedback! It was really weird writing this, to be honest. But I did have fun.