The Case Of The Missing Time Lord

The Case Of The Missing Time Lord

From the Casebook of Vastra Tsayja

20 December 1893
London, England

Observation is the biggest key to any investigation.  It is also a skill few seem willing to adequately cultivate.

Jenny and I were ushered into the rather spacious office of Miss Dorothy Gale McShane.  We had, of course, felt it best to leave Strax with the carriage below on the streets.  He does get overly excited at the prospects of an investigation.  Especially if said investigation might involve subtlety and discression.

The woman who guided us into the office appeared to be somewhat harried.  There were indications of tears around her eyes.  Jenny walked a pace behind me keeping up the illusion that I was her employer and not her wife.  The Victorian dislike of relationships between two people of the same sex never ceased to amaze me.  Among my own people, the Silurians, such a relationship would be quite well known, and in fact rather common.

My immediate reaction to the office was that it was far too big for the space that it supposedly occupied.  I began to scan the room for other anomalies as Miss McShane finished with some paperwork.  The first thing I noticed was the embroidered seal on the wall to the left side of the large picture window behind Miss McShane’s desk.  An ordinary eye might take it for some bit of Celtic knotwork, but I recognized it as a slightly altered form of the Seal of Rassilon.  I had seen the seal in the Doctor’s TARDIS roughly a year before this meeting during the unfortunate business with Dr. Simeon and the Great Intelligence.

The harried young secretary quickly gave our names and with her gilt pen, McShane indicated the seats on the opposite side of the desk from hers.  She did not look up or make any other movement but to finish the paperwork in front of her.  I took a seat, and as usual, Jenny stood to my left one pace back.  I took the time to observe the rest of the room as I could.

On the desk were several photographs; however, these photographs were severely out of place.  One of the photographs was of a round-faced man in a beige hat with his chin resting on the question-mark shaped handle of what appeared to be an umbrella.  Next to it were photographs of four women.  The first was wearing what appeared to be a fur stole.  Her black hair was pulled back and he red lips indicating a slight and mischievous smile.  The second was a slightly mousy woman with brownish hair and wearing a straw hat.  The third was also dark haired and looked rather seductive.

The fourth photo was more faded than the others, and bore a slight indent where it had been picked up and put down repeatedly.  The woman in the photograph had a heart shaped face and pale curled hair.  In fact, her hair was pale enough to be nearly white.

“Miss Flint, you are welcome to take a seat as well.  There is no use in keeping up pretenses in this office,” Miss McShane said without looking up.

I looked up at Jenny and gave her a very quiet nod.  We kept up the pretense of being Lady and Servant while about town largely to avoid all out scandal.  Miss McShane was an enigma.  She had appeared in London about some fifteen years ago with a substantial amount of money.  She and her companion, a woman named Romana de Ventura had set up the A Charitable Earth charity dedicated to helping refugees and immigrants coming into London.  In some cases, those immigrants seemed to arrive and then depart again.

“I am curious.  Vastra.  That certainly is not an English name, or Irish or Scotts.  May I ask where you are from?”  Miss McShane said, without looking up.  I was finding the whole thing rather annoying.  How dare she toy with us in this manner.  However, I decided it was best not to make a scene and possibly beg another appointment as an excuse to leave.

“It is Hindi,” I said, lying.

“Interesting.  Especially since I do not believe you have ever set foot on the Indian Subcontinent.”  Miss McShane finished writing something down.  “It really has been a very, very long time, Vastra.”

I must admit to having been taken aback when Miss McShane looked up from the paperwork in front of her.  Indeed, it had been a long time, and I said as much.  “Ace?  Indeed, it has been a long time.”  I lifted my veil.

“Do you really know her?” Jenny asked, laying her hand on mine.  I smiled.

“Indeed.  It was a very long time ago.  I was on patrol when I came across Miss McShane and her traveling companion at the time.  They apparently had stopped near one of our settlements to try and stop a group of Daleks who had gone into the past to try and disrupt Earth’s future or something like that.  Your companion took a shot from one of those Daleks for me.”

“She did.  It is alright, Vastra.  I don’t expect you to remember everything about what happened, and I do not blame you either.”  Ace turned to Jenny and said “That companion is now my wife.  And yes, she is a Time Lord.  For that matter, so am I.”  She said, forestalling the next question.  Ace picked up one of the pictures and handed it to Vastra.  “This is her current incarnation.  Will you take the case?”

I smiled and said “Of course, for an old friend.  But there is just one thing I don’t understand.  According to the Doctor, there are no Time Lords left in the galaxy.”

Ace smiled.  “The Doctor is wrong from time to time.  Romana and I were exiled from Gallifrey.  She risked her life and her position at the time to make me a Time Lord as well.  When the others found out, we ran as far and as fast as we could.  Eventually, we stopped here for a while and got to caught up in thwarting Torchwood.  Apparently without the Matrix, we cannot sense each other over any distance.”  Ace looked down at the desk.  “We’ve stayed her long after Gallifrey tried to call us back to help in the Time War.”

“I am sorry,” I said.  “I’ll get to work as quickly as possible, and I know exactly where to start looking.”

To Be Continued.