fancomicrelief Doctor Who (Gen)
Title: The Best Medicine (Or: When the Doctor Saved Cmic Relief) 1/8 & 2/8
Summary: Earth. London. 2011. Comic Relief. Can the Doctor save the day?
Rating: G
Spoiler Warnings: None
Word Count: ~400
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related properties belong to the BBC. I'm only playing about in Russell's playground.
Notes: The idea for serialising this only came the other day so bare with me while I backpost. Written for fancomicrelief. If you enjoy please give a thought to donating to Comic Relief.
Pretitles
Sometimes the Doctor lets the TARDIS do as she pleases, one of the many joys of having a living ship, lets her choose where they go next, when they go next.
When Martha leaves is one of those times. The Tardis bounces back and forth across the universe, back and forth through time, as if she can’t decide where/when she wants to be. The Doctor does his part - sorting out problems as they go along - misses having someone to talk to that can talk back but knows he’s not ready for another companion so soon.
He’s just thinking that maybe he might steer the Tardis towards Cardiff, it has been a while since he saw Jack, when she changes course and he nearly falls over at the suddenness of it. The Tardis is putting on speed with a purpose she hasn’t shown over the past few months.
“What is it, girl?” the Doctor asks, mouth full of jam sandwich, “Seen something you like?”
The Tardis, as usual, is silent in response but seems to hum with a little more energy. The Doctor takes that as a yes.
“Excellent!” he says, stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and chewing quickly. He bounds around the ship with renewed energy, searching for his good coat, and feels the excitement of a new adventure come over him.
The Tardis lands with a thump as he finds his coat in the corner of a room he didn’t realise still existed. He runs back and checks the console to find out where he is.
“Earth, really? Seems to me you’re a little over fond of the planet at the moment,” the Doctor says and is rewarded with something like an offensive sound from the Tardis, “Well, okay. I’m fond of it too. So Earth. London, naturally. 2011. March. Oh - it’s Red Nose Day. That’s normally fun. All those silly noses and sillier comedians. Could be fun”
Realising that he’s chattering away to the console like a mad person, not that there’s anything wrong with being mad, the Doctor stops himself. He shrugs his coat on and straightens his tie as he crosses to the door, patting his pocket to make sure the sonic screwdriver is safely in place.
“Well then,” he says, nodding to himself, “Time for a new adventure”
And he swings the door open.
The Introductions
Russell is having a bad day, he reflects as the gaseous whatever-it-is wafts towards him. It should’ve been brilliant. His first Comic Relief. He felt honoured. Everything had seemed great at the start - he got to meet Lenny Henry and have a laugh and ran into Mark during rehearsals, which was always fun. Then things started going weird.
Watching the rehearsals he and Mark had both agreed that, somehow, the show wasn’t particularly funny this year. Even the usual comic gold of Little Britain seemed to fall flat - and yeah, Russell admitted that it was a bit old now, but it was usually still funny.
Mark had said something to Matt Lucas about it and Matt had taken offence, which made sense Russell guessed, but soon after Mark disappeared and Russell began to worry. In a completely heterosexual manner. He had a look around backstage but there was no sight of Mark and the stagehands kept acting as if they didn’t know who he was talking about.
He decided to let it lie a while and headed for the dressing room he was meant to be sharing with the other man. He passed David’s room along the way and heard an argument coming from inside. Curiosity overcame him and he peered through the partly open door. He wished he hadn’t. Something like a big cloud of gas was hovering in front of David and the other man was backing away fearfully. He kept on saying ‘no’ over and over again - Russell nearly pushed the door open and went to David’s rescue. The gas flashed for a moment then followed into David’s open mouth and up into his nostrils.
Russell had backed away sharply, lest he scream like a girl and alert the whatever-it-was to his presence. He ducked into an alcove and tried to stop himself from hyperventilating. Then David passed him - looking perfectly normal; except for a slight purple sheen to his skin. Something had actually taken him over. Like an alien or something. Suddenly the Canary Wharf thing and the big monster in Cardiff and all the other things the government had said were hoaxes or brought on by mass hallucinations seemed a lot more real.
He was hiding in his dressing room when the wossname that was currently menacing him found him.
“No, honestly, it’s okay,” Russell had said, “You don’t need to do anything. I won’t say anything”
“Negative,” the thing had said in a flat monotone, “You are too funny. You must be placated”
“Too funny?” the absurdity had been the first thing to strike him, “But it’s Comic Relief, mate. It’s all about the funny!”
“Negative,” it had said, drifting towards him, “You are too funny. You must be placated”
Russell ran because, lucky for him, the thing wasn’t blocking the door. It chased him down the corridor and just as Russell was despairing for his life the police box had appeared. As if by magic.
Russell is about to yank the door open when it opens outwards to reveal a man dressed in a long coat and smiling jauntily. Russell and the wotsit freeze. The smile fades from the man’s face as he takes in the scene before him.
“Oh God,” Russell says a little pathetically, his accent coming on strong, “Please help me”
The other man shakes himself and nods, throwing a hand out which Russell grabs gratefully. The man pulls him inside the police box and slams the door shut behind him.
“Close call, eh?” the man says, smiling again. Russell looks nervously at the door and the man, following Russell’s eyeline smiles broader.
“Oh don’t worry,” the man says, clapping him on the shoulder, “Nothing can get in the Tardis that she doesn’t want to get in”
“Um. The Tardis?” Russell says, looking at the man quizzically.
“You’re standing in her,” the man says, spreading his arms expansively, “Which, come to think of it, sounds a bit off - doesn’t it? Particularly in English -”
The man continues speaking but Russell doesn’t hear him. He’s just realised that he’s standing in a room significantly larger than the box was on the outside.
“Who are you?” Russell asks, looking around in wonder.
“Me?” the man says, as if it’s an odd question to ask, “I’m the Doctor”
To Be Continued
Summary: Earth. London. 2011. Comic Relief. Can the Doctor save the day?
Rating: G
Spoiler Warnings: None
Word Count: ~400
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related properties belong to the BBC. I'm only playing about in Russell's playground.
Notes: The idea for serialising this only came the other day so bare with me while I backpost. Written for fancomicrelief. If you enjoy please give a thought to donating to Comic Relief.
Pretitles
Sometimes the Doctor lets the TARDIS do as she pleases, one of the many joys of having a living ship, lets her choose where they go next, when they go next.
When Martha leaves is one of those times. The Tardis bounces back and forth across the universe, back and forth through time, as if she can’t decide where/when she wants to be. The Doctor does his part - sorting out problems as they go along - misses having someone to talk to that can talk back but knows he’s not ready for another companion so soon.
He’s just thinking that maybe he might steer the Tardis towards Cardiff, it has been a while since he saw Jack, when she changes course and he nearly falls over at the suddenness of it. The Tardis is putting on speed with a purpose she hasn’t shown over the past few months.
“What is it, girl?” the Doctor asks, mouth full of jam sandwich, “Seen something you like?”
The Tardis, as usual, is silent in response but seems to hum with a little more energy. The Doctor takes that as a yes.
“Excellent!” he says, stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and chewing quickly. He bounds around the ship with renewed energy, searching for his good coat, and feels the excitement of a new adventure come over him.
The Tardis lands with a thump as he finds his coat in the corner of a room he didn’t realise still existed. He runs back and checks the console to find out where he is.
“Earth, really? Seems to me you’re a little over fond of the planet at the moment,” the Doctor says and is rewarded with something like an offensive sound from the Tardis, “Well, okay. I’m fond of it too. So Earth. London, naturally. 2011. March. Oh - it’s Red Nose Day. That’s normally fun. All those silly noses and sillier comedians. Could be fun”
Realising that he’s chattering away to the console like a mad person, not that there’s anything wrong with being mad, the Doctor stops himself. He shrugs his coat on and straightens his tie as he crosses to the door, patting his pocket to make sure the sonic screwdriver is safely in place.
“Well then,” he says, nodding to himself, “Time for a new adventure”
And he swings the door open.
The Introductions
Russell is having a bad day, he reflects as the gaseous whatever-it-is wafts towards him. It should’ve been brilliant. His first Comic Relief. He felt honoured. Everything had seemed great at the start - he got to meet Lenny Henry and have a laugh and ran into Mark during rehearsals, which was always fun. Then things started going weird.
Watching the rehearsals he and Mark had both agreed that, somehow, the show wasn’t particularly funny this year. Even the usual comic gold of Little Britain seemed to fall flat - and yeah, Russell admitted that it was a bit old now, but it was usually still funny.
Mark had said something to Matt Lucas about it and Matt had taken offence, which made sense Russell guessed, but soon after Mark disappeared and Russell began to worry. In a completely heterosexual manner. He had a look around backstage but there was no sight of Mark and the stagehands kept acting as if they didn’t know who he was talking about.
He decided to let it lie a while and headed for the dressing room he was meant to be sharing with the other man. He passed David’s room along the way and heard an argument coming from inside. Curiosity overcame him and he peered through the partly open door. He wished he hadn’t. Something like a big cloud of gas was hovering in front of David and the other man was backing away fearfully. He kept on saying ‘no’ over and over again - Russell nearly pushed the door open and went to David’s rescue. The gas flashed for a moment then followed into David’s open mouth and up into his nostrils.
Russell had backed away sharply, lest he scream like a girl and alert the whatever-it-was to his presence. He ducked into an alcove and tried to stop himself from hyperventilating. Then David passed him - looking perfectly normal; except for a slight purple sheen to his skin. Something had actually taken him over. Like an alien or something. Suddenly the Canary Wharf thing and the big monster in Cardiff and all the other things the government had said were hoaxes or brought on by mass hallucinations seemed a lot more real.
He was hiding in his dressing room when the wossname that was currently menacing him found him.
“No, honestly, it’s okay,” Russell had said, “You don’t need to do anything. I won’t say anything”
“Negative,” the thing had said in a flat monotone, “You are too funny. You must be placated”
“Too funny?” the absurdity had been the first thing to strike him, “But it’s Comic Relief, mate. It’s all about the funny!”
“Negative,” it had said, drifting towards him, “You are too funny. You must be placated”
Russell ran because, lucky for him, the thing wasn’t blocking the door. It chased him down the corridor and just as Russell was despairing for his life the police box had appeared. As if by magic.
Russell is about to yank the door open when it opens outwards to reveal a man dressed in a long coat and smiling jauntily. Russell and the wotsit freeze. The smile fades from the man’s face as he takes in the scene before him.
“Oh God,” Russell says a little pathetically, his accent coming on strong, “Please help me”
The other man shakes himself and nods, throwing a hand out which Russell grabs gratefully. The man pulls him inside the police box and slams the door shut behind him.
“Close call, eh?” the man says, smiling again. Russell looks nervously at the door and the man, following Russell’s eyeline smiles broader.
“Oh don’t worry,” the man says, clapping him on the shoulder, “Nothing can get in the Tardis that she doesn’t want to get in”
“Um. The Tardis?” Russell says, looking at the man quizzically.
“You’re standing in her,” the man says, spreading his arms expansively, “Which, come to think of it, sounds a bit off - doesn’t it? Particularly in English -”
The man continues speaking but Russell doesn’t hear him. He’s just realised that he’s standing in a room significantly larger than the box was on the outside.
“Who are you?” Russell asks, looking around in wonder.
“Me?” the man says, as if it’s an odd question to ask, “I’m the Doctor”
To Be Continued