Martha Drabbles
This is my collection of Marthalicious drabbles for the lifeonmartha 1000 Drabbles of Awesome party.
Martha was unpacking in her new flat when the doorbell rang. “Oh hi, Tish,” she said opening the door. “So you came by to see the new place? Come on in.”
Tish entered, eyes downcast. “What’s wrong?” asked her sister, the smile fading from her face. They sat facing each other on Martha’s bed, like they had as little girls when they shared both a room and each other’s secrets.
“Martha, I’m pregnant,” Tish finally blurted.
“Oh! I didn’t know you had a new boyfriend. Mum’ll be shocked but this could be worse, hon.”
And it was worse, judging by Tish’s sobs. Martha put her arm around her sister. “Martha, it’s his. Three months ago, he--. That’s why Mum tried to kill him. And now, what rape counselor would believe me?”
“And you just found out now?”
“I was irregular all year. The stress, probably.”
“Tish, you’re braver than you think. And you’ve got a family who loves you, so we’ll get you through this.” The Jones sisters embraced, contemplating the difficult future ahead.
--------------
“When and where is the Doctor?”
Martha looked up from her computer at the woman in the doorway of her office. She was wearing a lab coat similar to Martha’s own, and had cold, distant eyes.
“It’s alright Dr Jones, I’m a old friend of his. I am the Rani. A scientist.”
“Did you travel with him?” Martha asked hesitantly.
The Rani laughed. “Oh, the Doctor and I go farther back than that. I knew him at the Academy.”
“You mean-” The Rani extended her hand, and Martha shook it, then held it fast in surprise. “This ring! The LazLabs symbol! This is the Master’s ring!”
“Listen, I’ll explain all of this to the Doctor, but I got the idea for my experiment from the Master, yes. I stole a Void ship and. . . gathered. . . a few hundred Gallifreyan citizens-not Time Lords-and I’ve been using the chameleon arch to create Time Lords. I wanted show the Doctor my results.”
“Did they volunteer for this process?” Martha pressed.
The Rani cracked a guilty grin. “Not exactly.”
Martha’s eyes went stern and she reached for her superphone. “Doctor, you’re not as alone as you think you are. . .”
----------------
“Was one of your previous incarnations a crossdresser?” asked Donna, regarding a Jackie O-style suit.
“What?! No!” exclaimed the Doctor, stumbling forward entangled in a python-like scarf. “That rack of clothes belonged to my friends. Travelers like you.”
Martha scanned the rack, wondering about the stories behind each one: a ‘70s pantsuit, a navy striped Edwardian bathing costume, a chavvy overall-skirt… She held up a glittering catsuit. “Who owned this?”
“Zoe Heriot. A very talented mathematician-genius, perhaps!-despite her usual outfits.” The Doctor blushed slightly.
“Try it on, Martha, “ urged Donna. Martha shrugged and obliged. When she returned, the Doctor’s eyebrows went up in interest.
“Tell me, Doctor,” said Martha, “did your past self spend all his time with Ms Heriot staring at her arse?”
--------------------
Martha was shopping in London when a boutique bookstore gave her a feeling of deja vu. She entered SPARROW & NIGHTENGALE, trying to place it. A young man in a Sandman T-shirt by the register whispered through the beaded curtain, “Sally, it’s her! The Easter egg woman!”
“You came back!” Sally Sparrow emerged from the back of the store, greeting Martha warmly. “Did everything work out in 1969?”
Recognition dawned on Martha. “Yes, thanks to you,” she said, offering her hand.
“Is the Doctor with you?” Sally asked.
“No, but I expect I’ll see him again.”
“It’s so fascinating, these days,” said Sally. “Everything’s changed. I wonder what alien literature and history is like-”
Martha considered for a moment, then replied, “You could find out. I’d recommend you check with the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce and ask if they need a historian or archivist.”
Sally and Larry exchanged glances. “We’ve only just set up shop, so we’ll have to decline,” she answered. “And wait till it comes out in trade paperback.”
----------------
“Tallulah was right! You are into musical theatre!”
“Well, yes, but that’s not what she meant and you know it!” The Doctor looked indignant. “There’s straight plays too.”
Martha scanned the shelves, marveling at his collection. Private Lives, 1930: Noel Coward, Gertrude Lawrence, Laurence Olivier. Anyone Can Whistle, 1964: Angela Lansbury, Lee Remick, Harry Gaurdino. The Black Crook, 1866: Annie Kemp Bowler, Charles Morton, Marie Bonfanti. Pal Joey, 1940: Gene Kelly, Vivienne Segal. Mata Hari, 1967.
“They made a musical about Mata Hari?” Martha asked.
“Not everything in that collection is a classic. That’s the performance of Off-Broadway flop Mata Hari that’s infamous for the dead heroine reaching up and scratching her itchy nose.”
“Putting It Together, 1998. Why does this have a sticky note that says ASK JACK WHAT HE WAS THINKING?!”
The Doctor took the disc wordlessly and fed it into the TARDIS’s read-slot. The performance began onscreen. “Oh!” exclaimed Martha.
“Rogue Time Agents should not engage their hobbies so carelessly,” the Doctor growled.
Linkage if you don't get the joke
-----------------
“Doctor, we’ve been investigating all day and we’re getting nowhere. Why don’t we stop for something to eat?” Martha looked worn out and dehydrated. “I think we passed a bakery a while back.”
The Doctor agreed, and soon they were sipping lemonade and eating three-plum pie at the counter of The Pie Hole.
“Do you think we should ask the owner about the situation?” whispered Martha.
“I’d advise against it, Martha; small communities all over the universe tend to be rather superstitious. They’d never believe us.” His gaze wandered, and he smiled in pie-induced bliss. “I say!” he called to the owner. “This pie is like nothing I’ve tasted on Earth! What’s your secret?”
Ned froze, knife poised above a lemon meringue pie. “Organic fruit,” he said, but what he thought was: They’d never believe me if I told them. . .
-------------------
The twenty first century is when everything changed, as a friend of mine is fond of saying. The same is true for my life. One day I was just another med student cramming for exams, and the next, I was on the moon confronted with rhino-faced alien law agents. That day, I met the man who changed my life forever: the Doctor.
This is the story of my travels in time and space with the Doctor, how I lead a global resistance in a year that never was, how I became a doctor in my own right and then worked for Torchwood and UNIT, and how I came to found the first hospital on the Moon. This is the story of Martha Jones.
--------------------
Go, Martha, go! Leave comments here or at the lifeonmartha 1000 Drabbles of Awesome Cheering Section
Martha was unpacking in her new flat when the doorbell rang. “Oh hi, Tish,” she said opening the door. “So you came by to see the new place? Come on in.”
Tish entered, eyes downcast. “What’s wrong?” asked her sister, the smile fading from her face. They sat facing each other on Martha’s bed, like they had as little girls when they shared both a room and each other’s secrets.
“Martha, I’m pregnant,” Tish finally blurted.
“Oh! I didn’t know you had a new boyfriend. Mum’ll be shocked but this could be worse, hon.”
And it was worse, judging by Tish’s sobs. Martha put her arm around her sister. “Martha, it’s his. Three months ago, he--. That’s why Mum tried to kill him. And now, what rape counselor would believe me?”
“And you just found out now?”
“I was irregular all year. The stress, probably.”
“Tish, you’re braver than you think. And you’ve got a family who loves you, so we’ll get you through this.” The Jones sisters embraced, contemplating the difficult future ahead.
--------------
“When and where is the Doctor?”
Martha looked up from her computer at the woman in the doorway of her office. She was wearing a lab coat similar to Martha’s own, and had cold, distant eyes.
“It’s alright Dr Jones, I’m a old friend of his. I am the Rani. A scientist.”
“Did you travel with him?” Martha asked hesitantly.
The Rani laughed. “Oh, the Doctor and I go farther back than that. I knew him at the Academy.”
“You mean-” The Rani extended her hand, and Martha shook it, then held it fast in surprise. “This ring! The LazLabs symbol! This is the Master’s ring!”
“Listen, I’ll explain all of this to the Doctor, but I got the idea for my experiment from the Master, yes. I stole a Void ship and. . . gathered. . . a few hundred Gallifreyan citizens-not Time Lords-and I’ve been using the chameleon arch to create Time Lords. I wanted show the Doctor my results.”
“Did they volunteer for this process?” Martha pressed.
The Rani cracked a guilty grin. “Not exactly.”
Martha’s eyes went stern and she reached for her superphone. “Doctor, you’re not as alone as you think you are. . .”
----------------
“Was one of your previous incarnations a crossdresser?” asked Donna, regarding a Jackie O-style suit.
“What?! No!” exclaimed the Doctor, stumbling forward entangled in a python-like scarf. “That rack of clothes belonged to my friends. Travelers like you.”
Martha scanned the rack, wondering about the stories behind each one: a ‘70s pantsuit, a navy striped Edwardian bathing costume, a chavvy overall-skirt… She held up a glittering catsuit. “Who owned this?”
“Zoe Heriot. A very talented mathematician-genius, perhaps!-despite her usual outfits.” The Doctor blushed slightly.
“Try it on, Martha, “ urged Donna. Martha shrugged and obliged. When she returned, the Doctor’s eyebrows went up in interest.
“Tell me, Doctor,” said Martha, “did your past self spend all his time with Ms Heriot staring at her arse?”
--------------------
Martha was shopping in London when a boutique bookstore gave her a feeling of deja vu. She entered SPARROW & NIGHTENGALE, trying to place it. A young man in a Sandman T-shirt by the register whispered through the beaded curtain, “Sally, it’s her! The Easter egg woman!”
“You came back!” Sally Sparrow emerged from the back of the store, greeting Martha warmly. “Did everything work out in 1969?”
Recognition dawned on Martha. “Yes, thanks to you,” she said, offering her hand.
“Is the Doctor with you?” Sally asked.
“No, but I expect I’ll see him again.”
“It’s so fascinating, these days,” said Sally. “Everything’s changed. I wonder what alien literature and history is like-”
Martha considered for a moment, then replied, “You could find out. I’d recommend you check with the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce and ask if they need a historian or archivist.”
Sally and Larry exchanged glances. “We’ve only just set up shop, so we’ll have to decline,” she answered. “And wait till it comes out in trade paperback.”
----------------
“Tallulah was right! You are into musical theatre!”
“Well, yes, but that’s not what she meant and you know it!” The Doctor looked indignant. “There’s straight plays too.”
Martha scanned the shelves, marveling at his collection. Private Lives, 1930: Noel Coward, Gertrude Lawrence, Laurence Olivier. Anyone Can Whistle, 1964: Angela Lansbury, Lee Remick, Harry Gaurdino. The Black Crook, 1866: Annie Kemp Bowler, Charles Morton, Marie Bonfanti. Pal Joey, 1940: Gene Kelly, Vivienne Segal. Mata Hari, 1967.
“They made a musical about Mata Hari?” Martha asked.
“Not everything in that collection is a classic. That’s the performance of Off-Broadway flop Mata Hari that’s infamous for the dead heroine reaching up and scratching her itchy nose.”
“Putting It Together, 1998. Why does this have a sticky note that says ASK JACK WHAT HE WAS THINKING?!”
The Doctor took the disc wordlessly and fed it into the TARDIS’s read-slot. The performance began onscreen. “Oh!” exclaimed Martha.
“Rogue Time Agents should not engage their hobbies so carelessly,” the Doctor growled.
Linkage if you don't get the joke
-----------------
“Doctor, we’ve been investigating all day and we’re getting nowhere. Why don’t we stop for something to eat?” Martha looked worn out and dehydrated. “I think we passed a bakery a while back.”
The Doctor agreed, and soon they were sipping lemonade and eating three-plum pie at the counter of The Pie Hole.
“Do you think we should ask the owner about the situation?” whispered Martha.
“I’d advise against it, Martha; small communities all over the universe tend to be rather superstitious. They’d never believe us.” His gaze wandered, and he smiled in pie-induced bliss. “I say!” he called to the owner. “This pie is like nothing I’ve tasted on Earth! What’s your secret?”
Ned froze, knife poised above a lemon meringue pie. “Organic fruit,” he said, but what he thought was: They’d never believe me if I told them. . .
-------------------
The twenty first century is when everything changed, as a friend of mine is fond of saying. The same is true for my life. One day I was just another med student cramming for exams, and the next, I was on the moon confronted with rhino-faced alien law agents. That day, I met the man who changed my life forever: the Doctor.
This is the story of my travels in time and space with the Doctor, how I lead a global resistance in a year that never was, how I became a doctor in my own right and then worked for Torchwood and UNIT, and how I came to found the first hospital on the Moon. This is the story of Martha Jones.
--------------------
Go, Martha, go! Leave comments here or at the lifeonmartha 1000 Drabbles of Awesome Cheering Section