I lowered my eyes to stare at the ground like the coward i am. I knew there was nothing much to me, nothing attractive, or breathtaking enough for a prospective buyer to ever consider me. I was good for nothing. Vermin. Call me delusional but i had hoped for something. Somebody. Anybody. Some sort of last minute miracle. standing there alone at the helm of the small dirty podium i stood upon as the once filled theatre began to thin out, the severity of this situation struck me. The fact that not one of the hundreds of men that had gathered here today, even looked twice at me, not to talk of putting up a bid for me in the auction made my already tattered heart ache. Was i that repulsive? I Couldn't hold back the tears that stung my eyes and made twin trails of escape down both sides of my face. My lips began to tremble as violent shudders wracked my body. I had been condemned to a fate worse than death.

A massive shipping of whouffle. The Doctor and Clara travelling all over time and space. Happy to take ideas from people for things to write :)

Warning ⚠️ This is an old story that contains Johnlock and a self-insert OC from 2014. Synopsis; The Doctress is a Timelord who would prefer it if everyone stopped judging the red box by its cover. A mix of Sherlock and Doctor Who, this story is finished and is a nice, short read. It is suggested that you have watched Sherlock and vaguely understand Dr. Who before reading. Thank you.