Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 7
Title: (Previously "Life on Mars?") Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam
Rating: PG
Chapter: 7/?
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 more. I realised just then that I accidently changed the POV from Sam to Gene in the first couple of paragraphs. Whoops *headdesk* please ignore it, I'll change it later. This is just a bit of a babble, not too much plot in this chapter, just mainly getting Martha out of the pit she fell in (not literally).
About: Phyliss gets a blast from the past and Gene gets introduced over the phone to Captain Jack.
Sam led Martha into the station, unsure what to make of her. Was she just some loony from the street who’d tried to cover up a murder? But then again, how did she know how to find him, and how did she know of his situation? She seemed sane, apart from the odd remark. Not much different from himself, actually.
“Mornin’ boss,” Phyllis greeted, not looking up from her paperwork.
“Morning Phyllis,” he returned the greeting.
“Phyllis? As in Phyllis Dobbs? Oh my God it’s you!” Martha exclaimed excitedly.
Phyllis looked up, recognition and joy dawning on her face. She stood up and walked around the desk, looking up and down at Martha.
“Martha Jones! My word, you haven’t aged a day!”
“You look pretty good yourself!” Martha smiled and embraced her warmly.
“It’s been what, 27 years?”
“I know, too long!”
“Where’s the Doctor?”
“He’s... not here.”
“How’d you get here then?”
“A friend dropped me off,”
“You must have some pretty good friends! So what you doing down here this time?”
Sam coughed, drawing attention to himself.
“Phyllis, Martha is my wife,”
“You’re wife? If my memory serves me correctly, you were pretty keen on the Doctor. What happened?”
“He never saw it that way. Anyway, that was a long time ago.”
Gene felt the need to cut in and stop this gibberish.
“Oi! What you think this is, a CWA meeting? Lost and found, now!”
“Is she a witness?”
“No, a suspect.”
“You’re joking! What the bloody hell for? Looking pretty? Martha couldn’t hurt a blooming fly!”
Gene grabbed Martha-Joan’s arm and went to pull her away.
“Hey! Get your hands off me! I can walk myself down there!”
He followed the indignant Martha-Joan, who was following Sam to the Lost and Found. He glanced back at Phyllis, who was beaming from ear to ear. He’d never seen her that bloody happy before.
Gene sat down in his chair, scowling at Martha-Joan.
“What were you doin’ for the past 24 hours?”
“Is this your interrogation room? It looks more like the back of a pub!”
“I repeat my question. What have you been doing in the past 24 hours?” he raised his voice and slammed his fist on the table.
“Alright! Alright! I was at work, worked from 4pm to 6pm yesterday, did the night shift from 4 am, and then I made my way here.”
“Where’s your work? And that still leaves the entire yesterday bleeding afternoon Sherlock,”
“I work at the Royal Hope Hospital in London. And that was last night, my shift. So I was still in London when that murder took place.”
“I didn’t know cleaners worked such demanding hours!”
“Like I said before! I’m a doctor!”
“Got any credentials, Nancy Drew?”
“I left them on my coat and I left my coat in my locker at the hospital during my break,”
“How bloody convenient!”
“Martha is a doctor, Guv, I’d know. I’m her husband, remember?”
Gene shifted in his seat and moistened his lips with his tongue.
“So, supposing you are a black medical bird, can anyone vouch for your alibi?”
“Umm, oh wait! Jack was the last person to see me in the hospital. He popped down for a hello.”
“Is there somehow we could contact Jack?” Sam piped up. He was being unusually quiet, the bloody poof.
“Well, I have my mobile; I could give him a ring,”
“Mobile what?”
“Phone!” Sam and Martha exclaimed in unison, as if it were as obvious as Dame Edna’s fake tits.
“What’s that?”
“It’s like a phone, except its portable.”
Sam chuckled, obviously finding something funny.
“It’s 1973... Darling. Mobiles don’t work. There are no networks, no signal. Besides, even if there was signal you couldn’t call across time!”
“Yeah, but I have a Superphone. It can call anyone, anytime, throughout the universe, in any timeframe. The doctor made it do that for me,”
“That’s amazing! How?” Gladys asked.
That twerp Tyler looked as though he was about to piss his pants in shock.
“Don’t get me to explain it. Here, let me call him.”
Martha-Joan took out a small metal rectangular streamlined object and flipped it open. The “mobile” made a few noises and bleeps as she poked its insides. Finally she put it on the table and it made a small purring noise, like a muffled ringing phone.
“I’ve put it on loudspeaker so we all can hear and speak to Jack,”
Someone must have answered the phone as a voice announced from the contraption,
“Hello, Captain Jack Harkness speaking,”
He had an American accent and a flirty voice.
“Hey Jack! It’s Martha!”
“Oh hey Martha! Sorry, I was using my earpiece. I got your text just then though.”
“Can you confirm the last time you saw me?”
“That would’ve been at around, uh, 7am this morning in the Royal Hope Hospital, London. How come?”
“I’m being suspected for murder,”
“You’ve been in Manchester for what, under 3 hours and you’ve got yourself being a suspect? Wrong place, wrong time, eh?” Jack chuckled.
“You chose the place and time, don’t you forget.”
“How could I forget?”
“How am I going to get home Jack? Didn’t that cross your mind?”
“Sam’ll get you home,”
“This is DCI Gene Hunt. Are you done babbling nonsense even Picasso couldn’t make sense of?”
“Nice to meet you DCI Gene Hunt. Are you as handsome as you sound?” Jack laughed flirtingly.
Gene almost fell off of his chair at the comment. There was no way he was going to let this poof flirt with him. If Jack had been in the room with him he would’ve punched him in the gut so hard that he would’ve flown around the world in 80 seconds. He looked at Martha-Joan, to see what her reaction was. She’d just slapped her palm onto her face and shook her head wearily.
“Jack! Now’s not the time to flirt!”
“Can’t I even say ‘Hello’?”
“For you, that’s flirting!”
“Quoting the Doctor eh?”
“He was right though. A spot on calculation about you Jack.”
“OI! Can we stay on bloody task for one bleeding minute? Martha-Joan, what the hell were you doing with a cricket bat? Picked it up from the oval, no doubt? Or do you just carry it around with you everywhere?”
“You’d be surprised what a lady carries around in her purse. I once knew a girl who always kept a cookoo clock in her bag. Never quite found out why.”
“Not helping Jack.”
“Sorry,”
“But I can answer that one. I put it in your pocket, because Sam, well she told me to,”
“Why? And who?”
“It’s your ruby slippers, Martha. You’re ticket home,”
A ‘beep, beep, beep’ noise came from the mobile as Jack hung up.
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam
Rating: PG
Chapter: 7/?
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 more. I realised just then that I accidently changed the POV from Sam to Gene in the first couple of paragraphs. Whoops *headdesk* please ignore it, I'll change it later. This is just a bit of a babble, not too much plot in this chapter, just mainly getting Martha out of the pit she fell in (not literally).
About: Phyliss gets a blast from the past and Gene gets introduced over the phone to Captain Jack.
Sam led Martha into the station, unsure what to make of her. Was she just some loony from the street who’d tried to cover up a murder? But then again, how did she know how to find him, and how did she know of his situation? She seemed sane, apart from the odd remark. Not much different from himself, actually.
“Mornin’ boss,” Phyllis greeted, not looking up from her paperwork.
“Morning Phyllis,” he returned the greeting.
“Phyllis? As in Phyllis Dobbs? Oh my God it’s you!” Martha exclaimed excitedly.
Phyllis looked up, recognition and joy dawning on her face. She stood up and walked around the desk, looking up and down at Martha.
“Martha Jones! My word, you haven’t aged a day!”
“You look pretty good yourself!” Martha smiled and embraced her warmly.
“It’s been what, 27 years?”
“I know, too long!”
“Where’s the Doctor?”
“He’s... not here.”
“How’d you get here then?”
“A friend dropped me off,”
“You must have some pretty good friends! So what you doing down here this time?”
Sam coughed, drawing attention to himself.
“Phyllis, Martha is my wife,”
“You’re wife? If my memory serves me correctly, you were pretty keen on the Doctor. What happened?”
“He never saw it that way. Anyway, that was a long time ago.”
Gene felt the need to cut in and stop this gibberish.
“Oi! What you think this is, a CWA meeting? Lost and found, now!”
“Is she a witness?”
“No, a suspect.”
“You’re joking! What the bloody hell for? Looking pretty? Martha couldn’t hurt a blooming fly!”
Gene grabbed Martha-Joan’s arm and went to pull her away.
“Hey! Get your hands off me! I can walk myself down there!”
He followed the indignant Martha-Joan, who was following Sam to the Lost and Found. He glanced back at Phyllis, who was beaming from ear to ear. He’d never seen her that bloody happy before.
Gene sat down in his chair, scowling at Martha-Joan.
“What were you doin’ for the past 24 hours?”
“Is this your interrogation room? It looks more like the back of a pub!”
“I repeat my question. What have you been doing in the past 24 hours?” he raised his voice and slammed his fist on the table.
“Alright! Alright! I was at work, worked from 4pm to 6pm yesterday, did the night shift from 4 am, and then I made my way here.”
“Where’s your work? And that still leaves the entire yesterday bleeding afternoon Sherlock,”
“I work at the Royal Hope Hospital in London. And that was last night, my shift. So I was still in London when that murder took place.”
“I didn’t know cleaners worked such demanding hours!”
“Like I said before! I’m a doctor!”
“Got any credentials, Nancy Drew?”
“I left them on my coat and I left my coat in my locker at the hospital during my break,”
“How bloody convenient!”
“Martha is a doctor, Guv, I’d know. I’m her husband, remember?”
Gene shifted in his seat and moistened his lips with his tongue.
“So, supposing you are a black medical bird, can anyone vouch for your alibi?”
“Umm, oh wait! Jack was the last person to see me in the hospital. He popped down for a hello.”
“Is there somehow we could contact Jack?” Sam piped up. He was being unusually quiet, the bloody poof.
“Well, I have my mobile; I could give him a ring,”
“Mobile what?”
“Phone!” Sam and Martha exclaimed in unison, as if it were as obvious as Dame Edna’s fake tits.
“What’s that?”
“It’s like a phone, except its portable.”
Sam chuckled, obviously finding something funny.
“It’s 1973... Darling. Mobiles don’t work. There are no networks, no signal. Besides, even if there was signal you couldn’t call across time!”
“Yeah, but I have a Superphone. It can call anyone, anytime, throughout the universe, in any timeframe. The doctor made it do that for me,”
“That’s amazing! How?” Gladys asked.
That twerp Tyler looked as though he was about to piss his pants in shock.
“Don’t get me to explain it. Here, let me call him.”
Martha-Joan took out a small metal rectangular streamlined object and flipped it open. The “mobile” made a few noises and bleeps as she poked its insides. Finally she put it on the table and it made a small purring noise, like a muffled ringing phone.
“I’ve put it on loudspeaker so we all can hear and speak to Jack,”
Someone must have answered the phone as a voice announced from the contraption,
“Hello, Captain Jack Harkness speaking,”
He had an American accent and a flirty voice.
“Hey Jack! It’s Martha!”
“Oh hey Martha! Sorry, I was using my earpiece. I got your text just then though.”
“Can you confirm the last time you saw me?”
“That would’ve been at around, uh, 7am this morning in the Royal Hope Hospital, London. How come?”
“I’m being suspected for murder,”
“You’ve been in Manchester for what, under 3 hours and you’ve got yourself being a suspect? Wrong place, wrong time, eh?” Jack chuckled.
“You chose the place and time, don’t you forget.”
“How could I forget?”
“How am I going to get home Jack? Didn’t that cross your mind?”
“Sam’ll get you home,”
“This is DCI Gene Hunt. Are you done babbling nonsense even Picasso couldn’t make sense of?”
“Nice to meet you DCI Gene Hunt. Are you as handsome as you sound?” Jack laughed flirtingly.
Gene almost fell off of his chair at the comment. There was no way he was going to let this poof flirt with him. If Jack had been in the room with him he would’ve punched him in the gut so hard that he would’ve flown around the world in 80 seconds. He looked at Martha-Joan, to see what her reaction was. She’d just slapped her palm onto her face and shook her head wearily.
“Jack! Now’s not the time to flirt!”
“Can’t I even say ‘Hello’?”
“For you, that’s flirting!”
“Quoting the Doctor eh?”
“He was right though. A spot on calculation about you Jack.”
“OI! Can we stay on bloody task for one bleeding minute? Martha-Joan, what the hell were you doing with a cricket bat? Picked it up from the oval, no doubt? Or do you just carry it around with you everywhere?”
“You’d be surprised what a lady carries around in her purse. I once knew a girl who always kept a cookoo clock in her bag. Never quite found out why.”
“Not helping Jack.”
“Sorry,”
“But I can answer that one. I put it in your pocket, because Sam, well she told me to,”
“Why? And who?”
“It’s your ruby slippers, Martha. You’re ticket home,”
A ‘beep, beep, beep’ noise came from the mobile as Jack hung up.