A/N: I got the idea for this Fan Fiction a while ago actually, and it's still a work in progress, but I'll see how it goes! I won't be updating much on this story though, for it does take a while for each chapter to be written. :)

Chapter One

The sound of her heels clicking down the hallway floor was an indication to John that Clara had something to yell at him about, because, well, usually she did. He didn't mind it though, albeit in the first few months of working together every time she spoke to him it seemed as if she had this look of hers as if she wanted to slap him in the face. "It wouldn't hurt if I did, considering that your chin just serves as main defense." She snapped at him in admonishment yet slight flirtation. Clara Oswald had always seemed to find John rather notorious, a persona that spoke for itself, and though she would claim him to be utterly idiotic, she had the heart to laugh at him in admiration on the inside. Not like she would ever admit that anyway.

TARDIS, private eye agency located in Manhattan of New York, the most prestigious type of detective performance one could commission. John Smith, a rather unusual human being at the most, one who thinks that fezzes are cool and that tweed coats are still in style. Clara Oswald, the one to mainly boss him around at times and to force him to cooperate, for it wasn't obscure, John had the performance of a three-year old. He was one to think that fish fingers and custard was a brilliant concoction and that adults only waste their money on lamps and vegetables, and the thing that peeved her the most, he just couldn't stay still.

She walked into his office that early afternoon, neatly placing a few files onto his desk. One would suspect that Clara would just presume he'd get on with his work, but no, there were certain rituals that were committed to Clara's job, and one of those was to deal with his inability to cooperate in general. He pettily glanced up from the book he was reading, not taking any interest in the papers placed before him, which was usually expected of him. And in return, Clara raised an eyebrow at his responses, yet she wasn't the bit slightest surprised.

"Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, authority figure of the New York City's most lucrative array of exhibits at the City Museum." Clara explained the lesson like an exasperated teacher, opening the file to reveal a cover page of information. She turned the folder around in order for it to face him, still reading his book, Clara's words seeming to have no impact. He probably wasn't even paying any attention, yet he attempted to convince her that he was by a slight distracted nod of his head. Clara sighed. "Why does it always seem as if I'm talking to myself?" she said, feeling slightly hopeless.

"Huh?" John replied, oblivious to the fact that Clara was indeed trying to talk to him. Clara lowered the book from his face to meet his eyes, and she stared at him in slight anger an annoyance, much like an exasperated teacher.

"Put the book down, and do your bloody job."

"But I was reading!" he whined back, attempting to release the book from her grasp, only to find that it wasn't much use. Clara snatched the book out of his hands successfully, the front cover boasting their words, Melody Malone, Private Detective in Old New York Town. Clara stared at the rather improper cover image in suspicion.

"You're only reading this book for it's cover aren't you?"

He glared at her in defense. "No, I wasn't!"

Clara smirked as he clumsily tried to retrieve his book, at which point Clara only held it further away from his grasp. It was a pain in the derrière to get him to cooperate at times, therefore making her job even more difficult than it really should have been. Not as if Clara didn't like it, out of all things, she was rather enjoying it. "You seem to have a slight interest into malapropos cover images, don't you Doctor?" Clara teased, using the name she usually called him by. She didn't have a favorable liking into the name of John Smith; she thought it was just plain boring.

"I-it's not like that!" he sputtered out in protest. He attempted to grab the book from her by quickly reaching across his desk, thereby leaving him in a rather awkward position, at which at that point Clara hooked her index finger onto his ridiculous bow-tie, forcefully tugging his idiotic face to meet hers. If he wore just a normal tie, this would've been much easier. She lightly commented to herself as she looked him in the eye.

"You do your work and make my job a bit easier; understood?"

John gulped, as for one, he was being violently pulled at by the neck, and, well, Clara could be one feisty and utterly terrifying assistant. He slowly nodded, at which at that point Clara smiled politely back at him.

Seven Months Ago

John tapped on the marble coffee table he sat at in, trying to act as if he were preoccupied in reading Jane Eyre, for he was never really quite sure why he was reading it in the first place. He stared at the words as if they might have belonged to some peculiar alien dialect, and with the amount of sleep he had gotten in the previous night, a peculiar alien dialect was probably what he really thought it was. Alec had informed him to wake up early that day to meet up with this mysterious girl by the name of Clara Oswald, apparently his new, as he would say, 'associate'.

"Fine young girl I must say, very attentive, a bit feisty if you ask me but I thought that would straighten you up a bit." Alec had commented weeks prior, and John wasn't sure if those last words of his were intended to be a light playful insult or if he had really meant it. But by the looks of it, Alec probably meant it.

Alec informed him that he was to meet her at this apparently commercial coffeehouse that John had never heard of before in his life, therefore making him feel like he was getting old at a young age of twenty-seven. Hell, he didn't even know what this Clara girl looked like, nor did he know anything about her for the matter.

So he just continued to very slowly attempt to read Jane Eyre while half-asleep.

~.~.~

Behind the coffeehouse's reflective glass doors, Clara Oswald raked her fingers through her long brown strands of hair, for though she wasn't one with vanity issues, she liked to make a good impression. She nonchalantly strolled in like any other twenty-four year old customer would do, staring up at the chalkboard menu located above the glass counters filed with things frankly out of her appetite. The dust of the chalk defiantly spread across the board, smearing letters in various places, to Clara's slight annoyance, but that was the consequence of using chalk. Too messy. Clara felt the need to shake her head, but then finding the reason not to. She had to act as one, ordinary, uncaring human being. Clara then stuffed her left hand into the pocket of her crimson red trench coat, looking around for a bit until her hand met the feeling of a crumpled up paper at her fingertips. She pulled it out and carefully smoothed it out with her small hands, revealing to her a rather messy form of handwriting.

Man in a bow-tie. Can't miss it.

Clara had received the note that morning under her welcome mat, she suspected it was from Alec, the man whom she had talked to on the phone when arranging her new former job. Above all things, she was excited, but she hid her feelings rather well with a sophisticated kind of manner. Shouldn't be too hard to find this guy. Clara thought, shrugging to herself nonchalantly and placing the note back into her pocket. Alec had told her she'd be working with some man whose name was John Smith, which Clara found the title rather ordinary, for John Smith was the most common name she'd ever heard of. The place was fairly busy, but it didn't take much looking around until she spotted him.

He was sat at the third table from the left, surrounded by tables that were lined along the windows, and must she say, she was rather surprised at his appearance. Fairly good looking, she must say, but just so confusing. His hair was gravitational at one fairly particular lock that seemed to cover a portion of his forehead, his eyebrows rather thin; green eyes that scanned the lines of a new edition of Jayne Eyre, and a chin that certainly spoke for itself. He wore a bow-tie around his neck, a deep violet purple tweed coat framing his physique, and must she have the right to say, Clara had mixed feelings about the way he looked.

~.~.~

She daintily placed a tea cup on his table, a gesture that surprised John, for he expected at least a decent hello. She sat down at his table, offering a smile which told John that this girl wasn't the least bit of shy. At first glance she didn't even look like a girl older than twenty-one, with her petite structure and rather short height. Her brown eyes looked attentive and she had a retroussé nose, brown hair that was pulled into a proportionate bun at the back of her head. "You're my new associate?" John asked her, the word associate sounding defiantly out of place.

"I was going to ask the same to you." Clara replied blankly, her eyes focused on stirring a spoon in her tea cup.

"You don't look like an associate."

"Neither do you." Clara retaliated back in a friendly manner, eying his bow-tie. "And I prefer the term companion." she smiled back at him, her words certainly putting him off track.

He simply looked at her for a few seemingly unimportant seconds of his life, for out of all the people he had worked with, none seemed as responsive as Clara. She didn't seem to mind (Or for that matter, care.) about the amount of time he wasted just staring at her, it was almost as if she was expecting it. He shook his head in objection for that matter, but she was the one to speak up first.

"So, John, if I'm going to address you, must I use a different and slightly more interesting form of epithet?" Clara asked politely, the statement in the form of a question not seeming as an insult, but they both knew that it kind of was.

John frowned slightly. "Such as...?"

Clara looked up to the ceiling as if something up there were to help her think. "Is there a word for total screaming genius that sounds modest and a tiny bit sexy?" she suggested, a statement that designated that she certainly wasn't skeptical in speaking her opinion.

"Doctor. You call me The Doctor."

Clara smirked. "See what you did there." she replied, taking a generously long sip of tea, and when it was placed back down on its saucer, it sat nearly empty. Clara then reached into the front pocket of her coat and pulled out a small ripped piece of journal paper, lightly tossing it onto the page of the book he was reading, and as it met his eye, John glanced at it in slight confusion. "What's this?" he questioned her, holding it in between his index finger and thumb, looking at it in puzzlement.

"My number." Clara raised her eyebrows at his response, him then noticing the series of numbers neatly written in purple pen. Clara then stood up, for she didn't need much conversation to become aware of the fact that her next job was going to be rather enjoyable, in the most peculiar of ways. She wasn't apologetic for the little amount of time they had for conversation, for she had other things to do. She straightened her red coat and stuffed both hands into her pockets, then turning away to leave. But before she paced away, she faced him politely, deciding just to tease him for the fun of it. "Catch you later, Chin Boy." Clara winked.