They had resolved to head out early in the hope that their persistence and sleepless sacrifice may induce lady luck to bestow on them her favour. 

Rose was dressed plainly and professionally, her hair piled thickly upon her head and her eyes sparkling behind delicate, school mistress’ glasses, a sight that would make even a Time Lord’s libido burn.  A pencil was tucked behind her ear and a notebook clasped tightly to her breast.  The Doctor was unchanged, claiming that his suit morphed discreetly to blend to any occasion, although he did hold the black, leather wallet, welding psychic paper firmly in one hand.

“Dr. Smith.  Coroner sent down from the city to assess recent events.  This is my personal assistant, Miss Tyler.” Rose smiled smugly at his slight syllabic stresses on the word ‘personal’.

The mortuary gates cranked scratchily open as a flustered staff member ushered them through into the building.

The morgue was as clinical and clean as could be expected of the time period and ridiculously overly manufactured instruments glinted their metallic gleam in the purely functional overhead lamp. 

“Got a new one for you.  Just came in this morning.  Great timing,” the man chuckled nervously.

“Let me know if you need anything.  Dr. Jameson isn’t in this early but I’ll alert him on his arrival.”

Rose grinned pleasantly at the man as the Doctor stared brusquely down his nose at the stammering, retreating form.

“Aowhh!” Rose retched. “What is that stench?”

The Doctor sniffed seriously at the air edging closer to the white sheeted, new comer.

“Smells like…” he clicked his tongue and took in an ample breath screwing up his features like a predator on the hunt.

“Ammonia and stinky chemistry practicals,” Rose supplied.

“Miss Tyler you’re brilliant!” the Doctor whirled on her, his coat tails flapping and buffeting a gust of air that stirred the covers of the corpse perilously.

“Not really.  Usually wound up blowing something up or burning something.  Peroxide plus Bunsen burner is not an attractive fashion statement!”

He was not deterred and hastily grabbed her by the upper arms and smacked a kiss to her forehead before running out of the room.

“I hate it when he does that,” Rose groaned and headed off in pursuit but just outside the double doors she collided with a trolley and the panicked mortician’s assistant.

“Oh sorry,” she wheezed, a little winded.

“Miss ar-r-r-e you alright?”  He pulled her to her feet and dusted her down shyly.

“No injuries accept my pride.  Hmmm…have you seen the Doctor?”