Log in

No account? Create an account
10 June 2007 @ 03:04 am
fic: doctor smith & the magical police box of wonderment. (3/?)  
Title: Doctor Smith & the Magical Police Box of Wonderment. (3/?)
Author: chibijelly
Rating: this chapter - PG for some language? I don't even know. It's crack.
Word Count: this chapter - 1,996.
Pairing: none in this one... unless oh! Is that implied Nick/Martin I spy?
Disclaimer: I own none of this.

Overall Summary: A police box suddenly appears in the middle of Sandford! As does a rather suspicious physician who goes by the name of Smith. John Smith. Could they be connected? Is he really The Doctor? And what about all the kittens!?

Notes: Sorry this took forever and a day. I was having issues. Hope it was worth the wait, though. ♥ I like how it turned out. More kittens, more crack, more Nick/Martin (lolol), more Editor...

Previous Chapters:
Part One.
Part Two.

After shoving his spare change in his coat pocket, the Doctor left a nearby convenience shop balancing two rather large brown paper bags in his arms. He had waited patiently for all of the kittens in the TARDIS to wake up, and once they did, they mewed and mewed until this thought hit him—they must have been hungry.

It was the morning time already, and the townspeople were out and about their daily routines, which proved to only irritate the Last of the Timelords even more. He hated interference, especially when the poor, defenseless little kittens were in desperate need of breakfast.

“Banana pants!” he cursed under his breath upon reaching the fountain, remembering he had to fish out the key to the TARDIS, unlock said spacecraft, and throw the sacks of cat food on board all while not being noticed by whichever police man was on watch. His timing was anything but impeccable.

But upon closer inspection, he came to realize that the officer on watch was the Sergeant from the day previous, the one who kept being reprimanded.

Danny sat on the edge of the fountain, a tattered and worn copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in one hand, a muffin in the other, and for some odd reason, a bright green towel at his side. He was more than preoccupied.

The Doctor tiptoed toward the TARDIS, still juggling the bags of cat food. After he took a few steps, he stopped to check on the guard. He was too engrossed in the text to notice him. Then, making a mad dash for the door, he fumbled with one of the paper sacks and dropped it onto the cobblestone street. Hissing through gritted teeth, he fished out the key from his pocket and unlocked the door, his eyes not leaving Sergeant Butterman until the bags of food successfully landed on the other side of the threshold. He promptly followed, the door shutting behind him.

“BANANA PANTS!” he cursed a second time, screaming loudly as his arms flailed about. Soundproof walls were a good investment.

Danny looked up from his paperback, and then he took a bite of muffin. The coast had been clear all morning. He was still a bit worried about the possible destruction of the planet and had dug out his old copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide just in case. He even had a towel next to him. Just… in case. Of course.

As he went back to his reading, he glanced down at his leg. Something was nuzzling up against it. A small kitten, to be exact. It was the most adorable kitten he had ever seen. Black-and-white in coloring with a pink ribbon around its neck.

“Awh, ‘ey there little mate,” he cooed, setting his book down atop the towel and leaning down. “Where’d you come from, eh?”

The kitten sat on its hind legs before springing up and pawing at his pant leg, meowing in its cute little manner as its tiny claws pulled at the fabric.

“You want up?” Danny asked.

The kitten meowed again, its nose twitching slightly. And then it sneezed a tiny, kitten-like sneeze.

“Awwh, c’mere then!” He picked up the small creature and setting it in his lap. “You’re a pretty kitty, you are.” He gently, carefully scratched behind the kitten’s ear, and it nuzzled against his hand, purring softly.

That was when Nicholas Angel rounded the corner and approached the fountain. “Hope things have been productive for you,” he said, covering his mouth with his hand as he yawned. “I think the Andys are going to—is that…a cat?”

Nicholas stood in front of his partner, pointing at the ball of fluff in his lap.

“Indeed it is,” Danny replied, not bothering to look up as he continued to smile and pet the kitten. It was purring quite happily as it kept on nuzzling his hand.

“A stray?”

“I s’ppose so. I found ‘er by the TARDIS.”

“No tags?”

“Only a ribbon. Can I keep it, Nick? Can I, can I?”

Nicholas stared at him blankly. That reaction automatically counted as a “yes” in Danny’s mind, and before the Inspector knew it, the little cat was being fawned over and spoiled with attention by his staff.

“Innit ‘e cute, Doris?”

“Aw, indeed she is, Danny.” Doris smiled, carefully pulling the kitten into her lap as she leaned against the edge of the desk. “What’re you gonna name her, then?”

Saxon lay in the corner, glaring over at the feline with a look of disdain.

“Don’t get too attached,” Nicholas called from the desk inside his office, his hand covering the mouthpiece of the receiver. He wheeled his chair over so he could look through his doorway, taking the phone with him. “The cat stays here until someone comes to claim it, and that’s final.” Always the rain on everyone’s parade, he was.

And then he went back to whispering into the phone, giggling occasionally like a school girl, idly twirling the phone cord with his fingers as he leaned against his desk.

Danny frowned, utterly disappointed, but Doris pat him on the shoulder in a comforting manner. All the meanwhile, the kitten had pounced onto the desk. It wandered over to him and then took off to explore the various items on the desk. It lapped at the melted contents of an ice cream bowl.

“I hope no one comes to claim you,” Danny mumbled, resting his chin in his hand as he watched the kitten finish up the ice cream. “I’ve always wanted a cat.”

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor had managed to dig out bowls and other such containers from some of the many rooms on board. He set them out on the floor in the main control room and then proceeded to feed the grumpy little felines. They all pounced upon the food like the fierce predators they were. And soon enough, the Doctor stood off to the side, holding an empty cat food bag as the—well, it must’ve been close to seventy or eighty—kittens ate their brunch. There was no purring, no meowing, no noises of annoyance and the like, just the sound of little teeth munching, and that was music to his ears.

He would worry about litter boxes later.

Stepping over the little furry bodies, the Doctor approached the control panel and set to work. He had several orders of business to attend to: find Martha, fix the rifts in time (where they were located and just how many there were he hadn’t the slightest idea), and find homes for the kittens and get them out of the TARDIS before they spawned again and caused any more trouble.

It wasn’t until an hour or so later that he felt something was wrong.

“J.K.?” he asked aloud, taking his spectacles off as he looked around the control room. “J.K. sweetie, where are you?”

There were plenty of other cats, of course, but he couldn’t spot the pink ribbon on any one of them.

“C’mere little J.K., come see daddy.” He started to tiptoe through the patches of kittens, paying careful attention of tiny tails and paws as he searched for her. But soon enough, his calm and collected attitude dissolved and the Doctor grew more frantic and panicked.

He ran toward the door of the TARDIS, his mind racing. Maybe she got out? Maybe she’s wandering around outside? Maybe someone found her? She could be in trouble! Or hurt! Or something equally as horrible! The Doctor was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly stepped on a pitch black ball of fur that he hadn’t noticed previously. In front of the door, all curled up, was a black kitten, its bright blue eyes staring up at him from the floor. It wasn’t purring, it wasn’t meowing. The black cat merely stared as if examining him. It seemed positively evil. But not evil enough.

Opening the TARDIS door, he stepped over the kitten and then hopped into the sunlight, quickly shutting the door and locking it behind him. None of the kittens could escape, not until he figured out what to do with them.

Hiding the key in his coat pocket, the Doctor set off on his mission to find J.K. First, he swept the immediate area, then the surrounding shop fronts. He stopped people in the street, asking if anyone had seen the black-and-white kitten that he loved very, very, very much. When all those efforts turned up nothing, he took it a step higher.

He did what any normal human being from the planet Earth would do—bother the policemen about it. In a tiny village where the most pressing matter of police work around was chasing swans, herding cattle, and stopping crazy old fogy cult members who murder crusty jugglers for the greater good, there would be plenty of free time to look for a missing pet.

Meanwhile, almost two-hundred-thousand years in the future, the Editor of Satellite Five was not having a pleasant day. It wasn’t easy being the one in charge of the planet Earth’s most influential source of sometimes true, but mostly false news information. The machine denied him coffee on his lunch break, the freezing temperatures of Floor 500 were bothering him more than usual—to think that spending almost a full century up there would’ve caused some sort of adaptation to occur—and Max was grouchier than the Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe normally acted.

The only solution?

“Yes, sir. One moment, sir.” He then preceded to sir the bejeezus out of his superior until the main screen tuned itself onto the only cure for grouchy alien moods—the Intergalactic Soap Opera Network. That should keep him amused for about an hour or so. Anything to stop the infernal screeching and growling and grumbling.

The Editor slipped away into the dark and cold recesses of Floor 500 for some alone time, pulling a bottle of painkillers from his blazer pocket. Sometimes he hated his job, but he was an evil genius after all. It was difficult work, but someone had to do it. Plus, the health benefits and salary weren’t things to shirk at. Not at all.

Also, he had an image to keep up, especially when the memories of his teenaged years spent at the ballet studio popped up in the back of his mind every once in a while.

“Think of the leotards. Think of how the other boys would point and laugh and then throw you in the garbage bins.” He exhaled deeply, and then popped a few pain pills, tilting his head back to swallow them dry.

Coughing slightly, he swallowed again just to make sure the pills went down the right way, before straightening his tie and stalking back toward the control panels. But The Editor never reached there.

He walked from one end of the dark, dank, and incredibly frigid area of Floor 500… into the bright, breezy, and generally nice area of… wherever he was.

The light from—well, it must have been the Sun—proved to be too much for his sensitive eyes, and he squinted. The sudden change in temperature caused him to shiver, and he was absolutely stunned, flabbergasted, bewildered, as to where in the universe he could have possibly wound up. After the horrible culture shock subsided, he slipped off his blazer and draped it over his shoulder, loosening his tie with his other hand. The icicles and frost had completely defrosted, leaving him moister than was comfortable.

The Editor did the only thing he could think of as being practical—he started walking. He walked until he reached the outskirts of what must have been a small town, one that looked like the ones in the history modules, with the animal-processing stations and food-cultivating units sprinkled in the area around it.

Maybe the peoples dwelling there could tell him where he was.
Current Mood: impressedimpressed
alouette_sparraalouette_sparra on June 10th, 2007 11:30 pm (UTC)
OMG! This was well worth the wait. I laughed so hard at the entire paragraph beginning with: He did what any normal human being from the planet Earth would do—bother the policemen about it... because that was just sheer inspired brilliance.

The entire scene with the Editor... I have no words to describe my feelings. Editor in a leotard. Tee hee! And now he's in Sandford! YAY! Wonder how many people are going to mistake him for Nicholas?

Oh, and SchoolGirl!Nicholas on the phone with Deskjob was a nice touch.

This fic makes me full of happy. :)
sammiface!: doctor who | INAPPROPRIATE.chibijelly on June 11th, 2007 02:37 am (UTC)
Mission accomplished then. ♥ I love making people laugh, even when it's anything but intentionally.

Yes. The Editor wore leotards and performed in many, many ballet productions in his younger days. AND OH MAN. PEOPLE MISTAKING HIM FOR NICHOLAS? I NEVER EVEN THOUGHT OF THAT. thxbb. ♥

I originally had Nicholas just sitting in his office looking over whatever... but then when I finished the chapter was all... "Wait. Where's the Angel/Martin in this? HOLD THE PHONE. *rewrite*" And it was good. XD

alouette_sparra: Editoralouette_sparra on June 11th, 2007 02:50 am (UTC)
YOU NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT?! I mean, come on. It's bound to happen. I know I would at least do a double-take. So some little old lady whose vision is failing...

I can only imagine what would happen when Nic and the Editor finally meet. Unfortunately my mind is currently wandering down a path both highly unlikely and highly NC-17 rated. I shouldn't let my mind wander like that.

By the way, it's the Mighty Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe. No wonder he was grouchy. Not only does he have to put up with the Editor and being called Max, you shortened his title. (We all know the real reason why he trapped the Editor in the end of "The Long Game". It was because he hated being called anything but sir or the Mighty Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe, and Max was possibly the greatest insult to his great and glorious [and entirely too long] name ever.)

Shutting up now.
sammiface!: lauren cooper | i ain't bovvered.chibijelly on June 11th, 2007 03:19 am (UTC)


But I ain't bovvered. :3
alouette_sparra: brokenalouette_sparra on June 11th, 2007 03:52 am (UTC)
Yeah, I know the feeling. Hence why I've got a broken icon.
(Deleted comment)
sammiface!: doctor who | cute = understatement.chibijelly on June 11th, 2007 02:38 am (UTC)
The fogy line was just for you bb! As was all the Angel/Martin. ♥
Lady Rogue: geekauroraladyrogue79 on June 11th, 2007 05:04 am (UTC)
*cackles* The Editor is in Sandford! YAY! And the Doctor freaking out over J.K. <3<3<3
sammiface!: doctor who | jammies!chibijelly on June 11th, 2007 06:24 am (UTC)
Excessive Kumquats: Doctor/Hitchhikersacidpenguin46 on June 11th, 2007 10:45 am (UTC)
This story is completely made of awesome. Danny is so adorable, and I also loved Nick giggling like a school-girl on the phone.

And SQUEE for the Editor turning up in Sandford, or even just the entire Editor scene (yay for leotards!). Can't wait until the next installment :D
sammiface!: doctor who | jammies!chibijelly on June 11th, 2007 04:41 pm (UTC)
Thank you. ♥

Icon love!!
roach_xx on June 11th, 2007 03:20 pm (UTC)
Aww this made my day :)
I love this fic. It has everything!
Can't wait for more x3
sammiface!: doctor who | the editor.chibijelly on June 11th, 2007 04:42 pm (UTC)
Thank you thank you! More on the way. ♥