Prologue

Snowflakes lazily drifted to the muddied cobblestones of the street. A streetlamp cast a dull glow over the fog rolling in from the Thames. The staccato of horse's hooves echoed from nearby alleys. All was otherwise silent on this dreary winter evening.

A single-paned window slowly slid open. A figure, completely clad in black, hood obscuring any view of its face, crawled outside the frame and swung the leather cylinder it was carrying around its back. It briefly surveyed the quiet borough of London from the rooftop before disappearing into the night.

Part One

Donna rapped on the door. "Doctor?" She shifted the tray she was carrying to her hip and knocked a little louder. "Doctor! Open this door, or so help me…" Nothing. Well, serves him right. She set the tray down on the floor, lifted her skirts, and kicked the door in.

A dank musk wafted out of the room causing her to cough. The thick curtains were drawn, keeping the room completely dark. Donna felt for the nearest table and pushed the contents to the floor to make room for the tray. She made her way to the window and pulled back the curtain, flooding the room with light. A slight moan came from the wingback chair near the fireplace. Couldn't even be bothered to keep the fire going.She opened a window hoping the wintry air would clear the mustiness.

"Are you trying to kill me?" The Doctor curled his limbs in, trying to protect himself from the offending light.

"Well, it wouldn't kill you to air this place out once in a while. And maybe eat something, you skinny streak of nothing." She picked up a pinstriped waistcoat between her index finger and thumb and quickly dropped it in a massive pile of clothes in the opposing chair from him.

"I feed much better on the running." His bottom lip protruded in a pout, as he overdramatically threw his arm over his eyes.

"Well then, I suppose this should cheer you up, you mope. Seems we had a burglary down the street last night."

He had only a hand covering his eyes and started to slowly rub his temples with his middle finger and thumb. "Wilf lose his telescope again?"

She scoffed, not willing to take the bait. "No. Granddad has missed you stopping by his stand, though why he likes your company I'll never know."

The lips under his hand pulled into smug grin. "Haven't seen you leaving yet."

"Turns out it is difficult to get a secretarial job elsewhere these days. Besides, I would be afraid to subject anyone else to you. First day and they'd be out the door without a fair-thee-well." Donna smiled at the Doctor as he moved his hand from his eyes and glared.

He huffed. "Hate to have to train someone else anyway. So what's this grand burglary? Nothing to pique my interest, I'm sure."

"Oh, just a little art theft. Seems someone stole van Gogh's Vase with 12 Sunflowers from a private collector's home last night. A Mrs. Williams, I believe." She dropped the newspaper in his lap and her mouth quirked into a smirk as he pulled his spectacles out of his dressing gown and scrabbled to open the paper.

She picked up his tea and handed it to him, which he took without looking up. "I reckon that Inspector Smith will send for you within the hour."

"Right!" The Doctor jumped up, pulling the pinstriped waistcoat from the pile. "No harm in being preemptive. Allons-y, Donna Noble!"

The Doctor and Donna entered the Williams' residence to see several policemen filing around the house, some using new kits to dust for fingerprints, others taking notes of the positions of furniture and belongings in the room. The Doctor's eyes swept the room, already cataloguing what he observed.

Inspector Smith approached them, hand extended. "Doctor."

The Doctor failed to acknowledge the Inspector's presence, and Donna elbowed him in the ribs, taking the Inspector's hand herself.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Miss Noble."

"I'm sorry about the manners of this one. But what do you expect when a person insists on calling himself 'The Doctor'?" She shook her head.

"I'm so sorry, Rickey." The Doctor said, while brushing past him to look at the mantle that had previously held the painting. "This was where the painting was, then?"

Inspector Smith rolled his eyes at the erroneous name and walked forward to join him. "Yes. The Williams family was asleep when it happened. Good thing, too. I'd hate to see what Mrs. Williams would have done had she caught the thief in the act."

The Doctor had already whipped out his spectacles and was examining the outside window. "The thief has obviously dealt with these latches before. Extremely difficult to open from the outside unless one knows what to do." He leaned outside the window, assessing the escape route. "Also would have to be something of an acrobat to get across to that drainpipe. But those types are quite ubiquitous these days." The Doctor silently assessed the contents of the room until he happened upon a small mirror sitting near the mantle.

A young redheaded woman burst into the room. "How long are you constables going to be scouring my room instead of catching the thief? Hmm? And who's this, now?"

The Doctor kept looking the mirror without turning around. "I'm the Doctor."

"A doctor of what?" She whirled around to the constable, finger pointing in his face." And what do you need with a doctor to find my painting?"

"Just the Doctor," he said, eyes scanning the rest of the room.

Inspector Smith shook his head. "He is a consultant with the Yard, Mrs. Williams. And this is his assistant, Miss Donna Noble."

Donna patted Mrs. Williams' arm. "He claims he's got a doctorate in quite a few things, bless him." She then whispered, "Despite the disheveled appearance, and the penchant for nicknames, that man uncannily figures things out. He always picks up on things that others can't. But you won't hear me saying that unless I'm sure he's not paying attention."

"Well, you truly can't blame me for being hesitant. And all the more pity for you, Miss Noble." Mrs. Williams said, taking in the Doctor, who was now crawling along the floor. Donna laughed.

The Doctor, having been completely oblivious to the conversation, hopped back up in front of Mrs. Williams. "Mrs. Williams, why are these mirrors set up around the room like this?"

She looked around the room, seeing the odd positions of the small mirrors around the room. "They have been moved." Confusion crossed her face. "I swept over this room only yesterday."

The Doctor ran to the window and pulled the drapes fully open. An image of a wolf appeared on the wall where the painting had hung. Tongue resting against his back teeth, a grin spread across the Doctor's face. "Oh, Bad Wolf. How I have missed you."

"Bad Wolf?" Donna asked.

Inspector Smith found the little wolf figure that had cast the image. "Bad Wolf was a cat burglar. One of the best- never caught. Never even a hint of who it was. Always left a calling card, though. The messages have never been this elaborate, however."

"It has been close to ten years." The Doctor took the little wolf figure from the inspector's hand. "That was one of my first attempts to work with the Yard. Ended badly- I was told if I ever said another word about that case, I would be exiled to Australia. Couldn't get close enough to the evidence afterwards to solve it. Always a regret of mine…"

"And that is the only time I've ever seen you have the least bit of affection for somebody. A criminal you never caught." Donna teased.

The Doctor looked sideways at her. "Anyway, this beamsplitting is new."

"Beamsplitting?" Donna asked.

"An old stage trick. Set up a series of mirrors, you get a projected image. Used for ghosts and the like. But why would Bad Wolf use that?" He absentmindedly tugged on his left ear. "There's also a smudge of white on the corner of this mirror. If my powers of observation are correct, and they indubitably are, this is greasepaint. The same kind of greasepaint used in professional theatrical makeup."

"I knew that troupe was going to be trouble." Mrs. Williams interjected.

"What? What troupe?" The Doctor asked.

"There's an American acting troupe working down the street at the previously abandoned Valiant Theatre," Inspector Smith said. "Some of the locals haven't taken kindly to an American group trying to perform Shakespeare in modern dress."

"It's not the actors I'm worried about, it's the neighbor's moaning I have to hear." Mrs. Williams explained. "They can't abide my little Melody making a peep, let alone an acting troupe invading their quiet corner. Though I never imagined it would come to something like this."

The Doctor looked at Donna skeptically before speaking. "Bad Wolf wouldn't be so obvious. If even I couldn't trace them, do you think that they would choose something so sloppy? Let alone leave traces of stage makeup? Besides, I thought you said the troupe was comprised of Americans!"

Inspector Smith shrugged. "They've incorporated a few British actors, as well. Maybe it is a copycat. Or it could possibly be that a decade has caused a change in methods. Would it hurt to check?"

"I suppose not, but I will not waste time on false leads." The Doctor sniffed.

The inspector looked to the ceiling before leading the way out the door.

The Valiant was a mere three-block walk from the Williams' townhouse. Inspector Smith opened the door to the theatre, and the Doctor and Donna followed him inside.

"This isn't half-haunted looking," Donna said, eyes warily scanning the surroundings. The theatre was dark, with a few footlights breaking the darkness of the stage. Statues of angels with their faces covered hung from the walls, guarding the hundreds of plush seats filling auditorium.

Donna felt a hand on her shoulder and she shrieked.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, dearie. I forgot how positively mediaeval this old place can be." They turned to see a hunched old woman in a heavy cloak. "Are you looking for someone?"

"We're looking for the head of the company, ma'am." The inspector piped up.

"Oh, Jack? Let me go and fetch him. Always on the move, that one." She winked at Donna before climbing the stage and slipping behind the curtain.

"Seems a bit old to be working at a theatre," Inspector Smith said under his breath.

"Rude." Donna frowned at him. "You're getting to be just as bad as this one!"

Some lights came up, and a young man strode through the curtain. He was tall, with dark hair and cerulean eyes. Donna gaped a little while Inspector Smith reached for the man's hand. "Inspector Smith of Scotland Yard, and this is the Doctor and Donna Noble."

"Jack Harkness." He shook both men's hands and then turned to Donna. "Doctor, you have quite a beautiful wife."

"Oh, no, we're not married." Donna said, a little breathlessly.

Jack's answering roguish grin melted her insides to molasses. "Well, that's very good news." He took her left hand and kissed it, making Donna blush.

"Anyway," the Doctor said, interrupting, "we're here to talk to you about a burglary that happened down the street."

"Oh, really? I hate to hear that. I suppose you'll want to talk to all of us, then?"

Inspector Smith nodded. "If you wouldn't mind."

"I'll go round up the rest of them. Some may be still in makeup. We're doing the Scottish play tonight. Ah, I believe you've already met Rose?"

"Was she the elderly woman?"

Jack laughed. "Yes, she's playing all three witches tonight. We've been using a much smaller group of actors than usual to perform the play."

Jack led them behind the curtain and through the sets. Rose was hunched over a bag, rifling through it.

"Rose, let me properly introduce you to the Inspector and his associates."

She stood to full height, and they noted she wasn't actually hunchbacked. She pulled her hood back, and as she turned, they saw a beautiful blonde woman of about twenty-five years standing before them.

"Hello, my name is Rose Tyler."