a traveler from an antique land

The Doctor had earlier randomised the coordinates for her TARDIS to spice things up a bit, give herself some adventure after a few strangely dull tries; the sort that ended in explaining to a slightly deaf, very old Barcelosian couple that she hadn't actually meant to land in their rock garden, it was a very lovely rock garden, she'd just be going now. No, she'd rather not stay for tea, if it's all the same to you. Eighty years, really? You don't look a day older than seventy, the pair of you.

At any rate, she was hoping for a bit of adventure this time, and when she poked her head out the door, she got it.

"...ovely." The Doctor spotted a Slitheen in its natural form, looming over someone she couldn't see. Adventure she wanted, adventure she got. Where was that vinegar when she needed it?

"Then sniff this!"

She stopped rifling through her pockets for something vinegary. Hold on, she recognised that. "Sarah-Jane?"

With a sound that could be described as 'VWOORP VWOORP' and a small wind coming from seemingly nowhere, a blue police call box materialises at precisely seven o'clock. The Doctor bounces out to find her passenger for the night, one James Norrington, who did not present himself immediately.
"Jamie!"

The TARDIS has a much more 'grown' look to it now. Support columns twisting their way up to a high ceiling, and the walls and ceiling are brown and gold. The corridors follow this pattern to a slightly lesser extent, and Doctor leads the way through them to the Wardrobe Room.

"The TARDIS has changed a bit since you were here," the Doctor says, a bit unnecessarily.