his_sarah_jane: (sarah and ten)
Sarah had to admit: Brittany, France was a change of scenery for them. The seaside town she and John had found themselves sent to was awfully quiet compared to the hustle and bustle of London. It was, in fact, a little too quiet for Sarah Evans' taste. A little too slow. Certainly not the holiday she would have chosen.

But, then again, they weren't exactly here on holiday, were they? It was something much more than that. Rumors of mermaids and sea monsters from off the coast. Something, it seemed, that Torchwood and the French government both wanted to hide.

Which meant, of course, that Mr Chapman wanted to know everything.

So here she was, groaning as the early morning sun trickled in through the window of the inn room they were sharing. The alarm clock by the bed was going off loudly. Only 4:00 a.m. but screaming at the pair to awake.

Bloody fish and their bloody dawn feedings.
his_sarah_jane: (excuse me?)
"If you have something to tell me, then tell me, otherwise we can stop wasting each other's time."

Her hands remained positioned on hips as her right foot tapped up and down. She eyed him warily, almost doubtfully.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

All around them, gentry mingled in gorgeous dress, with fur shawls and long gowns and men in tuxes, not a single hair out of place. Chandeliers twinkled in the dim light and the occasional glow of mobiles make their users stand out.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

The blue satin material of her dress switched with the slightest movement of her hips as she continued to tap her foot impatiently. She stared at him, brown eyes anything but warm. For the fifth time tonight, he had tried to distract her from her mission. She needed this interview with Peter Tyler and she was determined to get it.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

A sigh. He had been babbling for the last five minutes straight. The smile plastered on her face couldn’t grow any faker as she nodded to those occasionally passing. Finally, her resolve broke. “Look, John, i If you have something to tell me, then tell me, otherwise we can stop wasting each other's time.”

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes widened, glasses doing very little to conceal their shock. He held his neck erect, stiff against the bowtie and suit he wore. He blinked once and choked.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.


“I… er, that is to say-”


Tap, tap, tap, tap.

She shook her head when he stuttered again, far too busy staring at her than bothering to concede to her demands. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to walk away. A strong grip on her wrist stopped her. She turned around, ready to tell him off and yet, yet she couldn’t.


Her nervous and impatient tapping of her foot had returned. She had to get her proof that Peter Tyler had been elected the new head of Torchwood due to his affair with a Martian. Didn’t he realise that?


Tap, tap, tap.

“No more wasting time. Marry me.”


She stopped tapping, she nearly stopped breathing. This time it was her turn to look like a deer startled in the headlights. The look lasted seconds – no, eons – until she nodded. Even if he was just trying to protect the Tylers again, he looked too sincere to mean it for any other reason.

“Yeah,” she whispered softly, story forgotten. “You know, I think I will.”
his_sarah_jane: (grin)
So far, living in the same flat hadn't resulted in any casualties. She reasoned that this was probably a good thing. The last time she had shared any sort of dwelling with a man had been over two years ago. It had been her brother (non-biological, but brother nonetheless) and it had been during the resistance against the Cybermen.

They were not memories she liked to remember. She hadn't been much of a help, after all, kept there only as a member of the press willing to leak the stories to the rest of the world.

Still, living with John Smith so far hadn't been all that awful. There had been a few awkward moments. There was that time she had thought to be home alone and was caught walking from the shower to her bedroom with towel draped over her arm rather than her body. And then the day she had awoken to find John in the kitchen in little more than a pair of boxers.

Yesterday, though, had been mildly awful. They had had their first row in weeks, arguing over the details surrounding the birth of a part-lizard, part-human baby in west Croydon. It had resulted in Sarah storming away. Later, he had worked up the courage to invite her to the zoo in apology.

So here she was, standing by the metal aquarium building as a zeppelin passed overhead and waiting impatiently for John to return with the maps. At least, Sarah had to say, he had picked a nice day for an outing.
his_sarah_jane: (sarah and ten)
It had been a lead Sarah Evans had been investigating for weeks now. Rumours of a cyberman in central London had been plaguing The Inquisitor office ever since the lot of them had mostly vanished from the face of Earth. This latest, reported by a middle-aged tube worker right off the midnight shift, seemed just about as skeptical as any other report they had heard.

Still. Sarah's interest had been piqued. From what she could remember of the invasion, the man's account had seemed surprisingly accurate. At the very least, it could be quite possible that someone had found an abandoned shell.

So, she stood on the corner of Oxford and Bond, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for John to show up.
his_sarah_jane: (sarah and ten)
004.Gut feeling


[ooc: thank you to [livejournal.com profile] sarahs_attic for beta’ing help.]


his_sarah_jane: (Default)
Sarah Jane Smith

April 2011

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