oracle [doctor who]

one

Take a left here. It'll be on your right. You'll know it when you see it.

Nora nodded to herself and turned the wheel of her beat-up car. She tore her eyes away from the road to inspect the world to the right of her. She was right. She knew it when she saw it. With a grim expression that one wouldn't expect so close to Christmas, she pulled into the parking lot for Powell Estate. She took the first spot she saw. With a twist of the key, the engine died and she escaped the confines of the vehicle she'd inherited from her mom. She locked the doors behind her and fixed her gaze on the giant blue box casually parked a few spots down.

Figuring that was why she was there, Nora shoved her keys in her pocket and approached it like you would a wild animal. It didn't look too odd despite being a blue police box sat in the middle of a parking lot. She spared the building up ahead a glance. It looked like any other apartment building in London. She turned back to the police box and snapped a quick picture with the disposable camera she'd bought days before.

Up the stairs, now. No time to waste.

Nora tucked the camera away into her purse before hurrying over and up the stairs.

This floor, here. First door on your left. 

She stopped and hooked a sharp left. She came to a stop in front of an average door. The large window beside it was mostly obscured by curtains, aglow with harsh yellow light. She peeked inside. Directly under the window was a large bed occupied by a tall man in pajamas that didn't seem to quite fit him. He was fast asleep on top of the covers. The bedside table on his side was cluttered with medicinal supplies: two thermometers, a stethoscope, a few pill bottles, and an abandoned cup of tea. A washcloth was draped over his forehead and there was a chair by his side.

Him. Knock.

She moved to rap her knuckles on the door just as her ears picked up a commotion inside. She froze, listening intently to the cries of fear escaping from underneath the door. Shit. Whoever was in there needed help. She tried the doorknob, but it was locked. She could break the door down, but what if one of them were standing behind it? The door to the bedroom she'd been examining flew open and a trio rushed inside, a whirring mechanical Christmas tree on their heels. Nora gritted her teeth and looked around for some sort of answer, only to notice a small group of people in Santa masks standing by her car holding remotes. She watched the way they moved the stick, then looked back to the tree. A blonde girl was whispering to the man on the bed, but she ignored them in favor of confirming her suspicions: the Santas were controlling the tree.

She dropped her bag by the door and vaulted over the railing. She was a few floors up so the landing wasn't exactly pain-free. The Santas weren't even looking at her. Their gazes were fixed on the floor she'd just dropped from. She tilted her head, scowling. Really? No appreciation for the fact she just jumped from like, the third floor and landed like a fucking superhero?