Chapter One

It was freezing.

The Doctor hurried back to the TARDIS waiting for him on the hill, retracing the tracks he had left earlier in the snow-like precipitation.

Though, on opening the door, he hesitated.

‘Off we go again?’

His breath danced in the December air, a fleeting ghost against the night. For a moment, he saw swirling blue lights in his mind’s eye, and the weight of recent losses pressed on him.

Astrid was gone.

And before her, Martha had left him too.

Alone again, he felt the cold creeping under his coat, seeping into his trainers and wrapping around both of his hearts.

He tried to think about which adventures still lay ahead of him, but honestly, he didn’t feel like going anywhere in particular.

That was new.

Might as well stay here a little while longer, the Doctor thought. It’s Christmas, after all, and there must be someplace this old fella can have some fun.

Maybe he could also invite Mr Copper—the man might be rich now, but nobody sells houses on Christmas Eve. What could it hurt to spend a few more hours with the self-proclaimed Earthologist and get a few of his false assumptions right? Or rather not, which was way funnier.

But when he closed the TARDIS door and turned, there was no sign of Mr Copper at all. The tracks in the snow-like precipitation led straight from the hill to the streets, which lay silent and still.

‘Speedy little gramps.’

So, change of plan.

The Doctor went back to the street with the newsagent, still finding it open and his favourite old man with the red woolly hat right in the centre of it.

Come to think of it, he was the only person in sight. The streets were dark and eerily quiet. Understandable, perhaps, after last year’s Christmas—and the year before that. Not to mention, the Doctor had just barely stopped the space version of you-know-which unsinkable ship from crashing right into Buckingham Palace. He could hardly blame them for being cautious. Still, he knew plenty of people stayed in the city over Christmas. And now, with the danger passed and even a bit of, well, sort-of snow falling—more like spaceship sediment, really—shouldn’t they be out enjoying themselves?

Weren’t they taking the whole “silent night” thing a bit too literally?

‘Fancy a coffee, skinny man?’ asked newspaper gramps, extending a steaming mug towards him.

The Doctor took it, nodding a thanks.

‘Where is everybody?’ He leaned against the display stacked with all kinds of newspapers and magazines. ‘I get the whole “Christmas caution” thing, but come on! Everyone’s safe now—because, frankly, I saved you. Again. Like last year. And the year before. Honestly, it’s practically a Christmas tradition at this point. So why’s everyone still hiding? The skies are clear, the danger’s gone—shouldn’t they be out celebrating?’

‘You really haven’t heard, have you, skinny man? Where’ve you been hiding the last couple of weeks?’

‘Well, here’n’there, have been basically travelling. And it’s not “skinny man”. I’m the Doctor.’

‘Oh, so you’re exactly what we need right now, aren’t you?’ the old man said, then muttering, ‘Not that the others were of any help so far, though.’

The Doctor leaned forward on the stand. ‘That sounds very interesting. So…?’

‘Funny you didn’t notice. You know no one who’s gotten it so far? Well, ain’t you one lucky guy.’

‘ ’Scuse me?’

‘It all started a few weeks ago, right in time for Halloween. The timing was really damn good to scare people, I tell you. And ever since then, it’s been spreading like a freaking pandemic!’

‘Again? Didn’t you lot have enough of this last time?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Oh. Oh! Sorry, my bad. It’s still more than a decade off for you. And two decades. And lucky you, really—you won’t have to live through all that… literally sickening stuff in about fifty years from now. Time’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Never quite lines up the way you expect. I always get it mixed up in my head.’

The old newspaperman took the cup out of the Doctor’s hand. ‘Seems like coffee is a no-no for you.’

‘Nah.’ The Doctor grinned. ‘You’ll get used to the talking after a while. Either way, what about that pandemic of yours?’

‘You see,’ the newspaperman began, ‘people are falling asleep.’

‘Well, that’s what they’re supposed to do at night, isn’t it?’

‘No, you don’t understand. They’re going about their day—working, talking, walking—and then, out of nowhere, they just…’ the old man made a thudding sound as if something heavy crumbled to the ground, ‘…fall asleep. Doesn’t matter where they are or what they’re doing. Just… poof!’

‘Poof…?’ The Doctor repeated, thoughtfully.

The old man shook his head in disbelief. ‘Funny thing is: They just won’t wake up afterwards, no matter what.’

The Doctor straightened up. ‘Now that’s interesting.’

‘Numbers were increasing so much during the last days, that most of the people stay at home caring for their relatives or spouse or mate or any other person affected by this strange disease.’

‘I see. Any clues as to where it’s coming from? Or what causes people to just drop dead tired?’
‘Which one of us is the doctor here, eh? Do I look like a scientist to you?’

‘Well, twelve points in the mad scientist look-alike contest, if you ask me,’ the Doctor muttered, but was quick to clap his hands. ‘Well, you’re right, I’m the Doctor!’ He smiled brightly and pointed to the stack of newspapers on the display. ‘But you’re not selling these for nothing, are you?’

‘There are no news about it, you know. This topic is not even front page anymore. Here, have a look.’

The newspaperman handed the Doctor a newspaper saying ‘Mad Christmas!’ in big letters, going on about how prices have gone up for turkey and potatoes and dried fruit and whatever you’d need to fill your table on Christmas Eve.

‘Turn to page four. Bottom right corner.’

The Doctor did as he was told. He pulled out his glasses from his front pocket and started to read.

‘Another one hundred and sixty-five cases of sudden sleep in London just within the last couple of days?’

‘Doesn’t sound like much, but actually it’s kind of an exponential growth by now.’

‘But it says nothing about research of the causes, how it’s spread, things the victims have in common, nothing! Why? Why wouldn’t anyone be interested in finding out more about all that?’

‘ ’Cause it seems like, anyone who started investigating it and leading some kind of research about this disease would rather sooner than later come down with this very same disease as well.’

‘Fear,’ the Doctor exhaled. ‘But that’s so unlike you humans, just being afraid and letting everything go down the drain. There must be people trying to find out what’s wrong.’

‘Yeah, the health department is still trying its best, working overtime like crazy. But what should they do – the more people work on this, the more of them fall victim to this disease.

The Doctor nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s not gonna work for long anymore. Any other parties involved?’

‘How do you mean that?’ the old man asked. ‘It’s not like there’s a special unit just for investigating a strange pop-up pandemic.’

The Doctor’s face lit up. ‘But what if… there is.’

He handed the paper back to the old man, who stared at him in bewilderment. ‘Thanks, newspaper gramps. I owe you one. Gotta go!’

‘It’s not “newspaper gramps”, it’s Wilf, Mr Doctor!’ the old man shouted as the Doctor was already halfway down the road.

‘And it’s not “Mr Doctor”, just the Doctor, Wilf.’

‘Okay, “the Doctor”, where are you off to, then?’ Wilf called after him.

The Doctor turned, grinning. ‘To find some people who might actually have a clue what’s going on.’

Then he was round the corner and on his way to his old acquaintances.