It would've been a lot quicker, the Doctor figured, to take the TARDIS over to that man's house, the one where something happened to Illyria. His mind had rationalized that it would be a bad idea, that if something horrific had happened to her they were part of events, that if there was a creature it could get to the TARDIS, the extreme unlikelihood that he could make so short a jump without making an error...all these things went into the reason for his walking the several blocks to the house instead of travelling.
That, and the walk did him some good. Thinking, pondering, working on what to say.
He would need that, he figured. After all, he wasn't his fourth incarnation, didn't just talk whatever came into his mind. He needed to be a thinker, needed to plan, think, manipulate. Figure out what happened to Illyria. How he could make it right.
He remembered someone once told him that everything was made to be about him. How he could help her, how he could make it right. This had to be different. It had to be about Illyria...fixing what went wrong.
He depressed the doorbell and listened for the telltale chimes that seemed to resonate throughout the entire home. Big house, he mused as he waited.