Five More Places Martha Never Hid With the Doctor - Marshall College
Title: Five More Places Martha Never Hid With the Doctor - Marshall College
Rating: PG
Crossover: Doctor Who/Indiana Jones
Summary: Martha had a sneaking suspicion about what Dr. John Smith had called Dr. Henry Jones, Jr. to look over, and she didn't like it one bit.
Prompts: "Blue" for crossovers100, "lie" for fivebyfiction "when" for 5_times"big bang" for xoverland.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and all related characters; Lucasfilm owns "Indiana Jones" and all related characters; I own nothing.
Claim Table
“Dr. Jones, please come in,” a tall, thin man with glasses, dressed in a sensible grey suit said as he opened the door for his guest. Dr. Henry Jones, Jr., a man who looked to be in his fifties smiled from behind large, round glasses as he stepped inside and gave the first man a firm handshake. From the background, unobserved by the two men, Martha Jones watched unobtrusively as she could as she made sure the table was properly set. She’d heard stories of the great “Indiana Jones” when she was a young girl from her great-uncle, and she was curious to see what he looked like as his alter ego. The fact that the Doctor had decided to hide at Marshall College was in a way, an unexpected gift to Martha so that she could finally see the man Uncle James had talked endlessly about.
“It’s no problem, John,” Dr. Jones replied, a good-natured smile on his face. Martha watched John Smith and Henry Jones closely. She knew that the Doctor/John Smith had been poring over these books of his lately, and whenever she saw him to either force him to eat, sleep, or bathe, he was muttering about a common motif across space and time. She had a sneaking suspicion what it could be, but she didn’t know anything for certain, yet. It wasn’t like an archeologist was going to show his maid his precious artifacts or manuscripts.
“We should have some time before dinner to go over what I found,” John Smith told the older man, walking towards his study. Martha listened to the door shut before turning back to her task. She knew that Smith wanted to be undisturbed during dinner, which would leave her with time to investigate his office. She prayed to whatever deity happened to be out there that she was wrong.
After about twenty minutes, she approached the study door, pausing to see if she could overhear any of the conversation. Unfortunately, they were talking too quietly, so Martha straightened up and knocked sharply. “Dr. Smith, dinner is ready,” she announced, opening the door a crack. Normally, she wouldn’t knock, but she wanted Dr. Jones to think of her as nothing but an ordinary maid.
“Ah, thank you, Martha,” John Smith answered, getting to his feet along with Dr. Jones. Martha held the door open for them as they exited, quickly slipping a piece of paper between the door and the still to keep it unlocked.
She served dinner quickly and efficiently before withdrawing, leaving the two men to discuss whatever was in the study. Making sure that nobody was observing her, Martha quietly stole to the study and slipped inside.
“What are you looking at, Doctor?” she muttered, approaching his desk. He must have been secure in thinking that nobody would steal a peek, because the papers were all over his desk.
“Oh, no,” she breathed when she saw what was sketched on the first one. A faded blue box stood in the corner of a sketch of a stained glass window. Hardly daring to breathe, Martha’s fears were confirmed, when all the subsequent papers held different, but easily identifiable TARDIS. Biting her lip, Martha placed the papers where she found them, and as stealthily as she could, exited the dim room and made her way back to the dining room.
“…when do you think you’ll have an answer?” John Smith asked Dr. Jones, his voice muffled by the heavy wooden doors. Martha couldn’t hear her reply, but she made a note to make sure that the TARDIS was still securely hidden. The last thing she needed was an inquisitive archeologist poking around and finding the unfortunately conspicuous machine.
The chime of a bell snapped Martha out of her reverie. Taking a deep breath, she entered the room and began clearing away the dishes.
“Will this be all, Dr. Smith?” she asked, taking away his plate.
“I believe so, yes,” he answered, looking up at her with a frown. “Are you well, Martha? You look rather pale.”
“Just a bit of a scare with a spider,” Martha lied, hoping that there wasn’t a part of John Smith that remembered that Martha had no problems with spiders. “That’s all.”
“Next time you see a spider, let me or cook know, and we’ll take care of it,” he told her with a slightly condescending smile. Martha said nothing, however, and continued to clear the table. She noticed that Dr. Jones was giving her an evaluative look, which she ignored. She didn’t need him looking into her and jeopardizing them when they were so close to outlasting the Family.
Later that night, Martha sat in her room and weighed what her options were for what felt like hours. In the end, she decided to do nothing. They only had two more weeks until the Doctor could open his watch. Until then, all she could do was wait and hope that she was up to diverting any curious archeologists with too much time on their hands and not enough common sense in their heads to leave things like this alone.
Rating: PG
Crossover: Doctor Who/Indiana Jones
Summary: Martha had a sneaking suspicion about what Dr. John Smith had called Dr. Henry Jones, Jr. to look over, and she didn't like it one bit.
Prompts: "Blue" for crossovers100, "lie" for fivebyfiction "when" for 5_times"big bang" for xoverland.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and all related characters; Lucasfilm owns "Indiana Jones" and all related characters; I own nothing.
Claim Table
“Dr. Jones, please come in,” a tall, thin man with glasses, dressed in a sensible grey suit said as he opened the door for his guest. Dr. Henry Jones, Jr., a man who looked to be in his fifties smiled from behind large, round glasses as he stepped inside and gave the first man a firm handshake. From the background, unobserved by the two men, Martha Jones watched unobtrusively as she could as she made sure the table was properly set. She’d heard stories of the great “Indiana Jones” when she was a young girl from her great-uncle, and she was curious to see what he looked like as his alter ego. The fact that the Doctor had decided to hide at Marshall College was in a way, an unexpected gift to Martha so that she could finally see the man Uncle James had talked endlessly about.
“It’s no problem, John,” Dr. Jones replied, a good-natured smile on his face. Martha watched John Smith and Henry Jones closely. She knew that the Doctor/John Smith had been poring over these books of his lately, and whenever she saw him to either force him to eat, sleep, or bathe, he was muttering about a common motif across space and time. She had a sneaking suspicion what it could be, but she didn’t know anything for certain, yet. It wasn’t like an archeologist was going to show his maid his precious artifacts or manuscripts.
“We should have some time before dinner to go over what I found,” John Smith told the older man, walking towards his study. Martha listened to the door shut before turning back to her task. She knew that Smith wanted to be undisturbed during dinner, which would leave her with time to investigate his office. She prayed to whatever deity happened to be out there that she was wrong.
After about twenty minutes, she approached the study door, pausing to see if she could overhear any of the conversation. Unfortunately, they were talking too quietly, so Martha straightened up and knocked sharply. “Dr. Smith, dinner is ready,” she announced, opening the door a crack. Normally, she wouldn’t knock, but she wanted Dr. Jones to think of her as nothing but an ordinary maid.
“Ah, thank you, Martha,” John Smith answered, getting to his feet along with Dr. Jones. Martha held the door open for them as they exited, quickly slipping a piece of paper between the door and the still to keep it unlocked.
She served dinner quickly and efficiently before withdrawing, leaving the two men to discuss whatever was in the study. Making sure that nobody was observing her, Martha quietly stole to the study and slipped inside.
“What are you looking at, Doctor?” she muttered, approaching his desk. He must have been secure in thinking that nobody would steal a peek, because the papers were all over his desk.
“Oh, no,” she breathed when she saw what was sketched on the first one. A faded blue box stood in the corner of a sketch of a stained glass window. Hardly daring to breathe, Martha’s fears were confirmed, when all the subsequent papers held different, but easily identifiable TARDIS. Biting her lip, Martha placed the papers where she found them, and as stealthily as she could, exited the dim room and made her way back to the dining room.
“…when do you think you’ll have an answer?” John Smith asked Dr. Jones, his voice muffled by the heavy wooden doors. Martha couldn’t hear her reply, but she made a note to make sure that the TARDIS was still securely hidden. The last thing she needed was an inquisitive archeologist poking around and finding the unfortunately conspicuous machine.
The chime of a bell snapped Martha out of her reverie. Taking a deep breath, she entered the room and began clearing away the dishes.
“Will this be all, Dr. Smith?” she asked, taking away his plate.
“I believe so, yes,” he answered, looking up at her with a frown. “Are you well, Martha? You look rather pale.”
“Just a bit of a scare with a spider,” Martha lied, hoping that there wasn’t a part of John Smith that remembered that Martha had no problems with spiders. “That’s all.”
“Next time you see a spider, let me or cook know, and we’ll take care of it,” he told her with a slightly condescending smile. Martha said nothing, however, and continued to clear the table. She noticed that Dr. Jones was giving her an evaluative look, which she ignored. She didn’t need him looking into her and jeopardizing them when they were so close to outlasting the Family.
Later that night, Martha sat in her room and weighed what her options were for what felt like hours. In the end, she decided to do nothing. They only had two more weeks until the Doctor could open his watch. Until then, all she could do was wait and hope that she was up to diverting any curious archeologists with too much time on their hands and not enough common sense in their heads to leave things like this alone.