/!\ PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTE /!\

Hello dear readers!

Here I come with a new story! This is a little unusual though and different from what I usually do: this is my exam for my Uni Short Story Writing class and it's due on the December 7th! So I thought I'd upload it here to have feeback before I hand it out to modify it if necessary :)

(So now my dear readers that follow my other fic "Time and Space" you see why I haven't updated much lately: lot of Uni work to do! To my new readers who don't know about "Time and Space" you can check it out it's under my profile :) )

And this is where you come in: I need your opinion on this story to help me have a good grade on it! Whether it's by reviewing or PMing me, please tell me what you think of it! :)

So as I said it is a short story, know that we have worked on the Gothic genre throughout the semester, so it fits in this genre. It will be in 3 parts.
It's not supposed to feature The Doctor in this story but I decided to make a version with the Doctor to post it here and have feedback (anything to have a good grade and ace the semester eh ^^).
It is however a mash-up of many episodes of Doctor Who that inspired me when I created my plot line so of course credit goes to BBC, I don't own Doctor Who but I do own the story I've made out of it and River Ravenwood, my OC.

Now I'll stop talking and will let you get on with the story!

Enjoy!

Melody - x

Hide And Seek

What's that, in the mirror,

In the corner of your eye,

What's that footstep following,

But never passing by.

Perhaps they're all just waiting,

Perhaps when we're all dead,

Out they'll come a-slithering,

From underneath the bed.

- Steven Moffat

The snow was blowing over London, the clouds, thick and dark, hiding the stars that should have shone this night. It was very cold, and sooner or later, the snowflakes were going to bury the city under its thick white cloak.

It was so cold that there was almost no one to be seen on the streets, and if someone happened to cross the road they would just walk as fast as they could to reach their warm and comfortable destination.

"Did you make this snowman?"

"No." said the man in a top hat passing by the street only lit by the street lamps without even glancing at the young woman.

"Because it wasn't there a second ago, it just appeared… from nowhere."

The man stopped and slowly turned around to look at that young woman in her teal Victorian dress. He walked up to her, taking out round glasses and looking at the snowman, his feet creaking on the thin layer of snow on the ground.

"Maybe the snow remembers how to make snowmen… or maybe you don't remember someone doing it." he said, looking closely at the snow.

She glanced at him, looking at his appearance: tight and elegant Victorian suit, brown hair, green eyes and a face that looked young and old at the same time. He was handsome, she thought.

"What? Snow that remembers? That's silly." she said.

"What's wrong with silly?"

"Nothing, still talking to you, ain't I?"

A teasing smile stretched her lips and he gave her an amused smile in return.

"What's your name?" he asked while putting his glasses back in his pocket.

"River."

"That's a nice name." he said as he started to walk away. "You should definitely keep it!"

She looked behind her and her eyes widened before she turned back to the man:

"Oi!" she called. She frowned a bit, as though she had forgotten what she was about to say before she said something else instead: "Where're you going? After we were just getting acquainted."

He turned back to face her with a soft and, somehow, nostalgic smile.

"Those were the days…"

As he went on, a tingling sensation at the back of his neck created an uneasy feeling. He lowered the pace to stop a few steps further.

There was something wrong, something not quite right.

He looked over his shoulder and a few seconds later ran to the girl: she had collapsed on the floor, unconscious, with no apparent reason. He lifted her, looking around the dark street, narrowing his eyes trying to see if the cause of her collapse was hidden in the shadows. Finding nothing, he walked away carrying her until he reached a black brougham carriage. With the help of his coach driver, he put her inside and climbed inside with her.

"To the manor." he said to the coach driver.

"Sir."

And the carriage disappeared in the foggy streets of London.

Cold.

It was the first thing that came to her.

She looked around, her vision blurred. No matter how much she tried to blink to chase the fog away from her eyes, the world around her would still be fuzzy and dizzy. She could only discern the shapes of other beds while herself seemed to be lying in one as well, the gloomy and grey atmosphere of the large room around her infiltrating her body, slowly and viciously.

Whispers and a swishing sound were running up above and down below, contrasting with the oppressive silence around: no wind, no rain, no owl or no fox to be heard.

Just whispers.

Just the swish.

Suddenly, the cold sensation converged to her right ankle, pressing against her bare skin as her heart skipped a beat, fear making an ice-cold hand clench around the vital organ pumping life in her veins.

Her already troubled vision slowly became shrouded with darkness, drowning her in a black, motionless and timeless world: the void.

Warmth.

It was the first thing that came to her.

Out of the pitch black void of unconsciousness, she opened her heavy eyelids to a place she did not recognize.

A richly decorated room with warm exotic wood, a fireplace lit and tea ready to be served on the side table was surrounding her, bathing in the winter morning light.

She sat up on the sofa she was lying on, making the cover that had been thrown over her slip to the dark red carpet on the floor. As she was trying to remember what had happened, the door opened and the man she had met the night before entered.

"Oh you're up. Good." he said with a smile before sitting down on a seat across the small table. "Would you care for some tea?"

She nodded a yes, quite lost regarding the situation. She took the cup he was handing her and after she took a sip, she finally asked:

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor." he said calmly. "You are at the Paternoster Manor, home of the Paternoster Gang, a group of people investigating… things that happen in London and around."

"What, like murders and crime scenes? Like the police?"

"A little bit more than that. We also investigate strange phenomena and supernatural events but yes, I suppose you could say that we also investigate murders. We help Scotland Yard after all, though this is more Mr. Holmes' business."

"Holmes you said? Like Sherlock Holmes?" she asked. As he nodded, she got up with a bitter laugh. "I may be just a young girl, sweet little River, but I'm not stupid. I read The Strand magazine as much as the next chap here and I know Sherlock Holmes is only a fictional character!"

"Is he? I beg to differ." he simply said, being his gentleman self, though a smirk was coming across his lips, as though he was a child who just pulled a prank on someone. "Sit down please, we need to talk about last night. Don't you want to know what happened to you...?"

She hesitated for a second but decided to listen and she sat down.

"I don't remember anything after you said 'those were the days'..." she said.

"There was no one in that street except for you and me, and I asked Strax, our… nurse, to do a general medical examination on you and he found nothing that could be the cause of your loss of consciousness. Just a little concussion. Might have been because you fell… Or because of something else..."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever wondered…" he started, leaning in. "If you've ever been really alone?"

She frowned a little, not sure about the meaning of that. He got up and walked around with his cup of tea, moving with ease and elegance. He leant against the mantel of the fireplace and went on:

"Question. Why do we talk out loud when we know we're alone? Conjecture. Because we know we aren't." he said, leaving the cup on the mantel.

He walked around, River following him with her green eyes, absorbed by his theory.

"Evolution perfects survival skills. There are perfect hunters, there is perfect defence." he continued, picking up a chalk on a cupboard and writing the word 'Question' on a blackboard she had not noticed until now. "Question." he said again, leaving the chalk in in the crook between the two halves of an open book. "Why is there no such thing as perfect hiding? Answer. How would you know?"

He walked up to her as she was standing up, starting to get his point, her gaze still following the man.

"Logically, if evolution were to perfect a creature whose primary skill were to hide from view, how could you know it existed? It could be with us every second and we would never know. How would you detect it, even sense it, except in those moments when, for no clear reason you choose to speak aloud? What would such a creature want? What would it do? Well... What would you do?" he said as they both looked at each other, facing each other.

A slight rattle was heard to their left, where the blackboard was. His eyes sparkled with excitement when hers were anxious as they both slowly turned their gaze toward the board.

The chalk was no longer in the book. It was rolling on the wooden floor.

They looked up to the board. Something new was written.

"LISTEN"

I hope you liked it, tell me please what you think (PM or review, I don't mind) so I can make it better! :)