There was no need to run. At least, not yet. No, a very brisk, smart pace would do it, because there was absolutely no reason to panic. So the TARDIS had gotten some funny readings. So they were the kind of readings that would herald the end of days and all things. That was okay, because what he read had to be wrong.
But it had been worth checking out, anyway. He keyed in the coordinates. On opening the door, he found he was a little ways off course - he'd keyed everything in fine, he found on second calculation, but the TARDIS had chosen to land a here, instead. Not unusual! She would have her reasons.
So he left her behind and walked to the location instead. And apparently what he'd seen on his screens was false, anyway. Because there was absolutely nothing in this football field except wet grass and churned up mud.
Even so, that feeling did not go away. And when he was in sight of the TARDIS again, the Doctor began to run and closed distance in a few long-legged strides. He shut the door behind himself and yanked off his trenchcoat, leaving him in a blue pinstripe suit and red chucks and he threw his coat into the fork and it ... fell to the ground.
He stopped suddenly.
The lights were wrong. The console, wrong. That wasn't there before, and neither was that ...and this ... this wasn't his ...
"What?!" he exclaimed in a high, stunned voice. "What?"