Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 10
Title: Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam, Sam/Annie
Rating: PG
Chapter: 10/?
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows. The BBC, Kudos does.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write. The last chapter was a complete dud, I know. So hopefully this will make up for it; I find it has plot. Yes, I have found the plot bunny once more *giggles* Chris's POV; 'cause he's cute an' all.
About: The 'team' *cough* interrogate an odd girl with odd eyes who saw something seriously odd yesterday. Yes, I have seen that "odd thing" that she saw before. Seriously.
The chilly afternoon wore on as one confused school-girl after another filed into the classroom-made-interrogation-room, their eyes all going wide, round and shocked as they learned of Mr. Garland’s fate. Every single one of them so far answered with roughly the same comment; ‘I saw nothing... that’s awful.’
Chris looked up from his bored daze as Martha came into the classroom, sighing wearily to herself as she brought in yet another tray of coffee to the boys; the ceramic mugs clinking together as she placed them down on the desk. She’d been made the ‘coffee girl’ for the afternoon; what with the weather being so cold and her being a skirt an’ all. Martha Tyler... Chris thought, trailing the name lazily over in his mind. At least now he had gotten used to seeing her around, and surely he’d stopped blushing by now. It wasn’t that he liked her; aye, she was a pretty bird, but it wasn’t that. She jus’ reminded him of someone else. Which made him remember something else, and that made him blush. Something that happened years ago, when he was on a student exchange to a London school. Something involving his pants dropping an’ the teacher Miss Jones bein’ there and... oh... Chris felt his ears going red again. Blimey! Think of something else, think of something else! What had his ol’ gran always say to him when he was embarrassed? When you’re giving a speech, and you’re embarrassed Christopher, imagine everyone in their underclothes. Yes, that was it. Oh no, that’s no good, no good at all!
“Here you go Chris,”
“Ha? Oh, hmm... uh ch-cheers Miss Jones.”
Oh no... I didn’t, did I? Chris looked down onto the coffee which was placed before him, desperately trying not to look at the bird.
“I-I mean Martha. Martha Tyler... Tyler... not Jones... Mrs. Tyler... Martha.”
His eyes betrayed him and cast a quick glance at Martha. A small curve of a smile twitched on one side of her face as she looked at him, bending over the desk slightly to give Ray his coffee. The latter was peering down her shirt, his mouth in an ‘O’, before getting a slap on the back of his head from the owner of the shirt.
“It’s alright Chris. We all make mistakes.”
It wasn’t just Martha making him nervy; it was the never-ending horde of giggling, mindless, hormone-raging schoolgirls gazing down at his pocket with the juicy-fruit inside as he told them it was their turn to come in the room. God how he hated teenage girls.
“That’s why we needed you down ‘ere! To make us all a good ol’ cup o’ coffee! Sam, who’s next on that endless list of yours? ‘Ow many bleeding girls were in this bloke’s class! It’s as outrageous as a black bird’s tits on a cold Sunday mornin’.”
“Susan F-o- I can’t decipher the rest, it’s all smudged with coffee and-”
“Chris, go fetch Susan.”
“Right Guv,” he nodded and got up, his chair screeching on the floorboards as it slid away from the desk.
“-and you’ll be ecstatic to know she’s the last one.”
“And then the Lord praised the day when the great and bountiful Gene Genie was home for beer-o’-clock.”
Chris opened the door and poked his head around the corner, his eyes resting on the solitary figure sitting cross-legged on the floor; her head bowed, staring at the floor.
“Susan?”
Immediately the girl’s head snapped up to look up at him. One blue and one hazel eye stared out from short strawberry-blonde hair; done in the style Annie usually had hers in, with a red bow pinned to one side. Her face was heart-shaped and softly featured full red lips which seemed to quiver timidly as her mismatched gaze met his.
“It’s my turn now, isn’t it?”
“Yup. This way.”
“What’s your name?”
“DC Skelton. Through ‘ere please.”
“Got a first name?” her tone was gentle, soft and not prying, unlike most of the other girls. Still, she sat on the ground, unmoving. Stubborn.
“It’s Chris. Up you get and through ‘ere.” He hitched the door open with one arm.
“Nice to meet you, DC Chris Skelton.”
Susan smiled and got up, brushing past him as she walked through the door. Chris closed the door behind them and almost bumped into the lass; she had the sense to stop still, right in front of him and stood staring at the ill-fitted group of the coppers and the skirt sitting at the desk. Chris had to admit, they looked rather daunting. Even Mrs. Tyler, with her dark, staring eyes, boring down and down into your own. Oh... dammit. He could feel his ears turning red again.
“You can sit here Susan,” Boss smiled warmly at the girl, waving his hands at the chair on the opposite side of the desk to him and the Guv. The Guv just grunted and pulled his chin down towards his chest.
“Thank you.”
“I’m DI Tyler, this is DCI Hunt, DS Carling, Dr. Martha Tyler and I can see you’ve already met DC Skelton.”
Susan had pulled out her chair, screeching in much the same way Chris’s had, and sat down. Chris sat down himself, next to Ray.
“Tell me about Mr. Garland.”
“Well, he couldn’t put his hands flat on his shoulders. But then again, no man can.”
“Don’t play games with me.” Gene’s fist slammed down on the wooden desk, making Susan jump.
“I’m not, I’m sorry. But there’s Snakes and Ladders in the back cupboard if you change your...”
The girl jumped as the Guv stood up threateningly, green eyes ablaze.
“Now I’ve had a day longer than a chase between a dog with a bone danglin’ in fron’ tied to a fishing rod on his back. You’d better answer my questions in a straight, truthful demeanour or I can fine you fer wasting police time!”
“Sorry, Detective Chief Inspector Hunt. What is your question?”
“Were you playing cricket on the cricket ground yesterday afternoon with the rest of Mr. Garland’s class?” Boss asked Susan calmly.
“Yes, I was, what happened to him? He’s not at school today.”
“E’s been bludgeoned to death.”
Boss shot Gene a withering look.
“Thanks for putting that so eloquently, DCI Hunt.” Boss turned his gaze back to Susan, “Did you see where Mr. Garland went after that? Do you know if he was meeting anyone? Did you see anything unusual, out of the ordinary? Just think back to yesterday,”
Susan’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, and chewed on her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, ready to speak. Chris made a mental note of this Good Cop Bad Cop routine played out on a difficult case such as this one.
“No, I didn’t see were he went, don’t know if he was meeting anyone, but I did see something odd.”
“Whatchya see?”
“I just told you.”
“What did you see which was out of the ordinary?” Now even the boss was looking annoyed, each word came out strained and straight to the point.
“I think you’d think I was mad.”
“We won’t. What did you see that was odd?”
“A letterbox. It was on a roof.”
“A bloody letterbox?!” the Guv spat, well beyond annoyed.
“It’s not every day in which you see one’s letterbox on their roof, am I right in saying so?” the teenage girl blushed, her eyes lowering to her lap.
“Which roof?”
Chris spun on his seat and looked over Ray, Guv and Boss’s shoulders, whom were doing the same as himself, at Martha Tyler.
“Well Nancy Drew, when Manchester’s mailmen go mad and start using letterboxes as weapons of mass destruction before putting them logically on rooves, I’ll know who to turn to!”
“But it’s odd, eh? I mean, what good does it do to put a letterbox on their roof?”
“That is a little odd actually,” Chris nodded his head in agreement.
“It was number 37, I think, but I can’t remember which street exactly. I didn’t take notice of that. It was just within viewing distance from the oval,”
“It’s Christmas time soon, do ya think someone might’ve pu’ it on the roof ready fer when Santa comes down the chimney?” Ray turned his head to the Guv, his blue eyes sneering, if that were possible to do with your eyes.
“No, there was no chimney.”
“And that’s all you saw? What a waste of police time!” Guv looked down at his watch and clasped his hands together cheerfully, “Beer-o’-clock gentlemen!”
Ray, Boss and the Guv stood up and started to head out to the door.
“You, uh, can go now,” Chris jerked his head towards his door, looking into Susan’s mismatched eyes.
“What about the letterbox? Don't you think it’s worth checking out?” Martha stood, hands on hips, staring disbelievingly at the Guv’s bulk.
“If you deem it absolutely necessary Wonder Bosoms, you can take Chris and only Chris with you on your mad yet insignificant quest to the holy bollocks of letterboxes on a roof.”
“Can’t I take Sam instead? No offence or anything Chris,”
“None taken.”
“Sam is my DI and he is on duty til I say so, goes where I say so and right now he goes with me to the pub. As much as I would love your never ending insane chit-chat down at the pub-”
“Why Chris then?”
“Because he is the only one who might be stupid enough to give a damn about a letterbox. Ray, Sam; pub, now.”
"Sorry Martha, it's been a long day. Don't know whether chasing after letterboxes is a good note to end it on. The pub on the other hand... I'll meet you there. Chris can show you the way," The Boss reasoned.
On that note, Guv, Boss and Ray strode out the door, leaving Martha and himself alone together and bewildered.
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam, Sam/Annie
Rating: PG
Chapter: 10/?
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows. The BBC, Kudos does.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write. The last chapter was a complete dud, I know. So hopefully this will make up for it; I find it has plot. Yes, I have found the plot bunny once more *giggles* Chris's POV; 'cause he's cute an' all.
About: The 'team' *cough* interrogate an odd girl with odd eyes who saw something seriously odd yesterday. Yes, I have seen that "odd thing" that she saw before. Seriously.
The chilly afternoon wore on as one confused school-girl after another filed into the classroom-made-interrogation-room, their eyes all going wide, round and shocked as they learned of Mr. Garland’s fate. Every single one of them so far answered with roughly the same comment; ‘I saw nothing... that’s awful.’
Chris looked up from his bored daze as Martha came into the classroom, sighing wearily to herself as she brought in yet another tray of coffee to the boys; the ceramic mugs clinking together as she placed them down on the desk. She’d been made the ‘coffee girl’ for the afternoon; what with the weather being so cold and her being a skirt an’ all. Martha Tyler... Chris thought, trailing the name lazily over in his mind. At least now he had gotten used to seeing her around, and surely he’d stopped blushing by now. It wasn’t that he liked her; aye, she was a pretty bird, but it wasn’t that. She jus’ reminded him of someone else. Which made him remember something else, and that made him blush. Something that happened years ago, when he was on a student exchange to a London school. Something involving his pants dropping an’ the teacher Miss Jones bein’ there and... oh... Chris felt his ears going red again. Blimey! Think of something else, think of something else! What had his ol’ gran always say to him when he was embarrassed? When you’re giving a speech, and you’re embarrassed Christopher, imagine everyone in their underclothes. Yes, that was it. Oh no, that’s no good, no good at all!
“Here you go Chris,”
“Ha? Oh, hmm... uh ch-cheers Miss Jones.”
Oh no... I didn’t, did I? Chris looked down onto the coffee which was placed before him, desperately trying not to look at the bird.
“I-I mean Martha. Martha Tyler... Tyler... not Jones... Mrs. Tyler... Martha.”
His eyes betrayed him and cast a quick glance at Martha. A small curve of a smile twitched on one side of her face as she looked at him, bending over the desk slightly to give Ray his coffee. The latter was peering down her shirt, his mouth in an ‘O’, before getting a slap on the back of his head from the owner of the shirt.
“It’s alright Chris. We all make mistakes.”
It wasn’t just Martha making him nervy; it was the never-ending horde of giggling, mindless, hormone-raging schoolgirls gazing down at his pocket with the juicy-fruit inside as he told them it was their turn to come in the room. God how he hated teenage girls.
“That’s why we needed you down ‘ere! To make us all a good ol’ cup o’ coffee! Sam, who’s next on that endless list of yours? ‘Ow many bleeding girls were in this bloke’s class! It’s as outrageous as a black bird’s tits on a cold Sunday mornin’.”
“Susan F-o- I can’t decipher the rest, it’s all smudged with coffee and-”
“Chris, go fetch Susan.”
“Right Guv,” he nodded and got up, his chair screeching on the floorboards as it slid away from the desk.
“-and you’ll be ecstatic to know she’s the last one.”
“And then the Lord praised the day when the great and bountiful Gene Genie was home for beer-o’-clock.”
Chris opened the door and poked his head around the corner, his eyes resting on the solitary figure sitting cross-legged on the floor; her head bowed, staring at the floor.
“Susan?”
Immediately the girl’s head snapped up to look up at him. One blue and one hazel eye stared out from short strawberry-blonde hair; done in the style Annie usually had hers in, with a red bow pinned to one side. Her face was heart-shaped and softly featured full red lips which seemed to quiver timidly as her mismatched gaze met his.
“It’s my turn now, isn’t it?”
“Yup. This way.”
“What’s your name?”
“DC Skelton. Through ‘ere please.”
“Got a first name?” her tone was gentle, soft and not prying, unlike most of the other girls. Still, she sat on the ground, unmoving. Stubborn.
“It’s Chris. Up you get and through ‘ere.” He hitched the door open with one arm.
“Nice to meet you, DC Chris Skelton.”
Susan smiled and got up, brushing past him as she walked through the door. Chris closed the door behind them and almost bumped into the lass; she had the sense to stop still, right in front of him and stood staring at the ill-fitted group of the coppers and the skirt sitting at the desk. Chris had to admit, they looked rather daunting. Even Mrs. Tyler, with her dark, staring eyes, boring down and down into your own. Oh... dammit. He could feel his ears turning red again.
“You can sit here Susan,” Boss smiled warmly at the girl, waving his hands at the chair on the opposite side of the desk to him and the Guv. The Guv just grunted and pulled his chin down towards his chest.
“Thank you.”
“I’m DI Tyler, this is DCI Hunt, DS Carling, Dr. Martha Tyler and I can see you’ve already met DC Skelton.”
Susan had pulled out her chair, screeching in much the same way Chris’s had, and sat down. Chris sat down himself, next to Ray.
“Tell me about Mr. Garland.”
“Well, he couldn’t put his hands flat on his shoulders. But then again, no man can.”
“Don’t play games with me.” Gene’s fist slammed down on the wooden desk, making Susan jump.
“I’m not, I’m sorry. But there’s Snakes and Ladders in the back cupboard if you change your...”
The girl jumped as the Guv stood up threateningly, green eyes ablaze.
“Now I’ve had a day longer than a chase between a dog with a bone danglin’ in fron’ tied to a fishing rod on his back. You’d better answer my questions in a straight, truthful demeanour or I can fine you fer wasting police time!”
“Sorry, Detective Chief Inspector Hunt. What is your question?”
“Were you playing cricket on the cricket ground yesterday afternoon with the rest of Mr. Garland’s class?” Boss asked Susan calmly.
“Yes, I was, what happened to him? He’s not at school today.”
“E’s been bludgeoned to death.”
Boss shot Gene a withering look.
“Thanks for putting that so eloquently, DCI Hunt.” Boss turned his gaze back to Susan, “Did you see where Mr. Garland went after that? Do you know if he was meeting anyone? Did you see anything unusual, out of the ordinary? Just think back to yesterday,”
Susan’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, and chewed on her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, ready to speak. Chris made a mental note of this Good Cop Bad Cop routine played out on a difficult case such as this one.
“No, I didn’t see were he went, don’t know if he was meeting anyone, but I did see something odd.”
“Whatchya see?”
“I just told you.”
“What did you see which was out of the ordinary?” Now even the boss was looking annoyed, each word came out strained and straight to the point.
“I think you’d think I was mad.”
“We won’t. What did you see that was odd?”
“A letterbox. It was on a roof.”
“A bloody letterbox?!” the Guv spat, well beyond annoyed.
“It’s not every day in which you see one’s letterbox on their roof, am I right in saying so?” the teenage girl blushed, her eyes lowering to her lap.
“Which roof?”
Chris spun on his seat and looked over Ray, Guv and Boss’s shoulders, whom were doing the same as himself, at Martha Tyler.
“Well Nancy Drew, when Manchester’s mailmen go mad and start using letterboxes as weapons of mass destruction before putting them logically on rooves, I’ll know who to turn to!”
“But it’s odd, eh? I mean, what good does it do to put a letterbox on their roof?”
“That is a little odd actually,” Chris nodded his head in agreement.
“It was number 37, I think, but I can’t remember which street exactly. I didn’t take notice of that. It was just within viewing distance from the oval,”
“It’s Christmas time soon, do ya think someone might’ve pu’ it on the roof ready fer when Santa comes down the chimney?” Ray turned his head to the Guv, his blue eyes sneering, if that were possible to do with your eyes.
“No, there was no chimney.”
“And that’s all you saw? What a waste of police time!” Guv looked down at his watch and clasped his hands together cheerfully, “Beer-o’-clock gentlemen!”
Ray, Boss and the Guv stood up and started to head out to the door.
“You, uh, can go now,” Chris jerked his head towards his door, looking into Susan’s mismatched eyes.
“What about the letterbox? Don't you think it’s worth checking out?” Martha stood, hands on hips, staring disbelievingly at the Guv’s bulk.
“If you deem it absolutely necessary Wonder Bosoms, you can take Chris and only Chris with you on your mad yet insignificant quest to the holy bollocks of letterboxes on a roof.”
“Can’t I take Sam instead? No offence or anything Chris,”
“None taken.”
“Sam is my DI and he is on duty til I say so, goes where I say so and right now he goes with me to the pub. As much as I would love your never ending insane chit-chat down at the pub-”
“Why Chris then?”
“Because he is the only one who might be stupid enough to give a damn about a letterbox. Ray, Sam; pub, now.”
"Sorry Martha, it's been a long day. Don't know whether chasing after letterboxes is a good note to end it on. The pub on the other hand... I'll meet you there. Chris can show you the way," The Boss reasoned.
On that note, Guv, Boss and Ray strode out the door, leaving Martha and himself alone together and bewildered.