Author(s): Moonshoes and Mafia

Genre: Humor

Summary: A Moonshoes Mafia crack!fic. Tenth and Martha go hunting in the TARDIS's tea cabinet. Includes violently pink flowers, Dalekanium, mud with a pinch of nutmeg, and lots and lots of boxes.

"Doctor! DOCTOR!"

There was a disgruntled "harrumph" from the main control room of the TARDIS, where the Tenth Doctor had been fiddling with the console, more to distract himself than anything. He reluctantly placed the TARDIS on self-pilot and strode over to a doorway, where his companion was looking paler than usual.

"Martha Jones, are you all right?" In truth, most of his concern was forced, he was still meandering on the river of his thoughts. Luckily, the medical student was too panicked to notice the falsity in his tones.

"Doctor, I swear I wasn't doing anything wrong. But I was exploring the TARDIS and I walked down a spiral staircase and then it hit me!"

"What hit you?" The Doctor was plainly confused.

"Dalekanium." Martha shivered for dramatic effect. "The smell of Dalekanium."

"Well, you can't possibly have done that." The Doctor said. "There isn't a Dalek within a thousand years of here."

"Miles." Martha corrected without thinking.

"Hmm?"

"The expression is within a thousand miles."

The Doctor looked back at the control console of the TARDIS. All readings were normal, it would seem...

"No, there aren't any of them there, either. Unless," He ran back to the console. "Unless, it emergency temporal shifted onto the TARDIS." He fiddled, knocked a few switches up and hit a button. "Then it could have discalibrated the internal censors so it wasn't detected. Even now it could be decertifying the quantum matrix! Quick, stay exactly where you are!" The Doctor rushed off down a hall way.

"Erm, Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"It was that way." Martha pointed back down the staircase she'd come from.

"Hmm...only thing there is the tea room."

"The...the...you're not...what?" Martha was plainly thrown off balance by the sudden turn of events, staring at the Doctor with undisguised confusion.

He chuckled. "Martha, the TARDIS even surprises me sometimes. Don't feel bad. Culture shock. Happens to the best of us." He sighed and looked down at his feet. "It's what I told Rose when we met the first time."

Martha struggled gamely to not respond to the unintended barb in his remark. "You have a tea-room on the TARDIS?"

"Well, yeah. Is that a problem? Do you not drink tea?"

Martha smiled as beguilingly as she could, under the circumstances. "I'm British. Not drinking tea would be like, oh, I dunno..."

"Skip the similes," the Doctor said briskly.

A tinny little bell went off from some hidden recess near the stairway. "Ah! And if I'm not mistaken, it's time for tea." He smiled impishly and adopted an overly-pompous tone of voice. "Would you care to take tea with me, Miss Martha Jones?"

Martha couldn't help but giggle. "By all means, Sir Doctor."

The Doctor led her down the staircase and into the room which smelled ever so slightly of Dalekanium.

"So, what type of tea do you want?" He asked.

"Earl Grey."

"Er... Don't have any of that." The Doctor replied.

"Then Twinings."

"Uh... None of that either."

"Red Rose."

"Not anymore." The Doctor said, looking at Martha pointedly.

"Tetley?"

"Tetley?" The Doctor asked. "Tetley? Come on, Martha you're in a ship which can travel through time and space, you've been to New New York in the future and Old New York in the depression and you want Tetley?"

"Then what would you want me to drink?" Martha asked.

"That…that is a good question. Come to the cupboard and pick one out."

With a waggle of his eyebrows, the Doctor winked at Martha and pulled open a golden-hued floor-to-ceiling cabinet covering an entire wall. The cabinet was the only other thing in the room beside the dingy, purplish lamp hanging from the ceiling.

Martha turned to look into the tea collection. What she saw astounded her. Rows and rows of small tea-boxes. Hundreds of them. All different colors, shapes and sizes. It was as though the teas were calling to her. She was drawn inexorably towards the collection, stretching out her right hand. The Doctor grinned.

"Better than Earl Grey, don't you think?"

"What...my God, Doctor...I didn't think you were THIS English!"

"Well...you could say I've been collecting. Being nine hundred and forty-five years old has its perks, you know."

With a smile, Martha reached out for an arch-topped box. The chosen crate was shiny, ornate, and about five times heavier than it should have been. She knew at once that it was the object that has been giving off the smell of Dalekanium. She took off the lid. The pungent, slightly acidic smell of the dried tea hit her nose harder than the Dalekanium itself, and she scrunched up her eyes to control the watering.

The Doctor looked at the yellowish powder in the box with distaste. "Dalek tea. You, er...you don't want that."

Martha laughed slightly. "Dalek tea? Daleks drink tea?"

"Well, yes. They're civilized, too, of a sort..." He said. "I once had tea with the emperor. But that's a different story... Anyway, you don't want it. Daleks couldn't make good tea to save their skin..."

The Doctor looked up. Daleks couldn't really be said to have skin, could they? Not the way he'd seen them.

"Err... Shells. Here," he said, reaching up and grabbing for something, "Try the Sycorax, you'll love it."

"Why shouldn't I have it?"

"Well," The Doctor said, reaching for the tea box, "Er... The flavor's all wrong, and... Erm... It causes sugar to burn up if you put it in, so why don't you just give it to me and we'll—"

"It's alright," Martha said, "I don't take mine with sugar. Anyway, that's not possible. No form of life would cause sugar to combust." She could tell the Doctor was hiding something about it, and she was just curious. You didn't get through med school without a bit of curiosity to at least get you through the classes.

"Well," said the Doctor, "I.. Er…" Suddenly, he remembered something. He didn't like lying, but he wouldn't have to. After all, it was a good reason by itself not to drink Dalek tea. "Dalek eyestalks tint everything blue, and as they get older the tints get worse, all clouded. The older Daleks who are out of commission for combat are the ones who have to pick the tea, and... Well, they often get it confused with everything else, so you might not actually be drinking tea."

Martha could tell The Doctor was hiding something. "Come on, what if it really is tea?" She asked, "It's a million to one shot, but it might be right!"

"Err, well, it must be steeped in a very specific and very rare liquid," the Doctor explained, "And I don't have any. So let's drop the subject and have a nice cup of Sycorax."

"Well, what is it?"

The Doctor, in a manner most unlike himself, shuffled his feet, shrugged his shoulders and said, rather flatly, "Well…"

"Yes?"

"You know how you never saw Daleks use the loo..."

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Oh, no, Doctor...you've got to be joking!" Martha made a face of absolute revulsion. "I mean, Daleks are bad, but they wouldn't steep their tea in their own...euuugh. Please tell me you're joking."

"Martha Jones, do I look like I'm joking?"

For a moment, Martha looked as though she was going to be sick. Indeed, she made a convulsive movement and a strange choking sound. The Doctor took a step toward her. She looked at him, shook her head, and regained her composure within a matter of seconds. Still, the way she hastily put the box of Dalek tea back on the shelf bespoke of her continuing revulsion.

"Feeling a bit better?" The doctor reached for a small, leathery-red sack. "Now, how about some Sycorax?"

"No," Martha responded, almost petulantly. "Can't we have Time Lord tea?"

The Doctor made a face. "Hah. Time Lord tea, that's a good one. Interfering with tea leaves is considered an offense on Gallifrey. Though...I do have my own tea. I have a garden somewhere in the TARDIS, I don't remember which turn you take, though..."

"Can't we have some of your tea?" Martha plucked a delicate silver box from the shelf below the Dalek tea. It was an extremely fancy box, with ornate filigree work covering every surface. A golden "3" was woven in on the lid. "How about this?"

"Ah, yes, that." The Doctor held out his hand for the box. "From my Third Incarnation. Excellent flavor."

"Can we have that, then?"

"Well, uh..." The Doctor pulled at his earlobe, as he did so often when nervous. "I'd love to, but I have nothing to reverse the polarity of the tea kettle with..."

"What?"

"Doesn't matter, we can't have it," The Doctor said, "go on, pick another one."

"Can't you use your Sonic Screwdriver?" She asked.

"Of course not, Sonic Screwdrivers are for opening doors. Well, and a few other things, but that's only the newer models. And they can't reverse the polarity of anything."

Martha looked over the tea shelf and started reaching out towards one of the boxes. The Doctor shook his head, so she grabbed a different one. It was a cacophony of colors, reds and yellows and pinks, all laid over with a bright blue polka-dotted six in the middle.

"What about this one?" She asked.

The Doctor made a circle with his finger slightly, "You'll... er... turn it around."

"Warning," She read from the back, "Tea is unstable. Tea is unstable? How can the tea be unstable?"

"Well, it causes quantum flashes in the brain's memory center."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I may start calling you Rose."

"Oh," She said, and hastily put it back. Rose seemed to be a touchy subject for the Doctor. She finally found a tea in a black and grey box, which featured in the middle a circle made of pink flowers encompassing a smiling, cheerful looking rhinoceros. "What's this?"

The Doctor made an odd snorting noise. "That, Martha, is the tea of our dear friends, the Judoon."

"No. Way." She looked at the slightly larger box, turning it over and over in her hands. Carefully, she pulled back the lid. She stared, then imitated the Doctor's snorting noise. The violently pink powder inside was too much for her. Martha collapsed into giggles. "You can't be serious," she said, replacing the box on the shelf with some difficulty, as she was shaking with laughter. "The Judoon drink this stuff? What do they make it out of, rose petals and sunshine?"

"No, actually," the Doctor said, seemingly oblivious to her sarcasm. "It's made of a flower—"

"A flower?" Martha slumped against the wall, howling with mirth.

"--a flower called Esornet," he continued inexorably. Though the Doctor too, was laughing. "It's slightly pinker than the stuff in that box. They go picking the flowers in the spring to make into Judoon tea. Not bad, if sickly-sweet's your kind of thing."

It took several minutes for Martha to return to a state where she could talk coherently again, and several more for her to stop laughing. She took a few breaths, than pushed herself up from the wall and returned to the tea shelves.A small, glowing vase of a lovely, ethereal azure hue caught her eye next. She reached for it. The glass, or whatever it was made of, was so thin that she was afraid she would end up crushing it in her bare hands. Yet it held, and Martha was able to examine the shimmering blue substance inside. "This is absolutely beautiful," she mumured. "What is it?"

"That belongs to the Gelth."

"The who now?" Martha asked, hypnotized by the ground Gelth tea.

"The Gelth, they're beautiful creatures. Not always nice, but beautiful." The Doctor said wistfully.

"Well, will it cause my head to explode or something?"

"No, not at all." The Doctor said, "But, well, you know how they say that tea, sometimes, goes right through you?"

"Yes?" Martha asked, examining the ornately decorated blue glass. It was strong, yet somehow it was as light and thin as paper.

"Well, THEY have never had a tea made by incorporeal life-forms." He said. Martha inhaled the tea slightly, and to her surprise the powder drifted up into her nose. It smelled beautiful, but she decided, perhaps, to put it back. She wanted tea that would stay liquid, and she didn't have to worry about whether or not it would drift through her tongue.

" So, not this one, then?"

"Not that one, then." The Doctor said.

She looked back at the big cupboard, and found an empty space. On it, written on a piece of folded paper, was the word "Cyberman."

"Cyberman?" She asked, "What's in that? Did you run out?"

"No, I couldn't find any Cyberman tea."

"Cybermen, aren't they robots?" Martha asked. Cybermen and Daleks and Judoon. Oh my... It was certainly quite an extensive tea cabinet. "Are you sure they have tea?"

"Of course they have tea." The Doctor shrugged, "Everyone has tea. I never heard of a species that didn't have tea. I just wasn't allowed to take any. It's the only thing missing in my collection."

"You tried, but you weren't allowed?"

"Well, they said I wasn't compatible, and would have to be upgraded." The Doctor answered.

"Then what happened?"

"Well, after that I couldn't hear them. I was too busy trying to escape. When the Cybermen say you need to be upgraded, you don't generally want to hang around. In fact, if they say anything, you don't generally hang around. In fact, if they're around, you don't generally hang around. In fact, as a rule, I just try not to be around when they are. You understand. And you won't want that," he added as she reached for a red and black tea box. He paused for dramatic effect, and continued. "That's the tea of the Beast."

"The Beast." Martha repeated, now looking dubiously at the box in her hands. "Like Satan, or someone?" Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh my God, you've met Satan?"

"Well, what your race calls Satan," the Doctor said calmly. "Many other races have horned gods of dissent and war. The Time Lords just know him as the Beast." He looked at the box in Martha's hand with mild interest. "I was found it interesting that the Beast had a tea...honestly, can you imagine that? Satan sipping tea! Though that box you're holding--" it was really more of a small crate; it was far bigger than the Dalek box, though lighter. If Martha had set it on the floor, it would have stood about to the middle of her shin. "--that box you're holding would have only made a cup of tea for the Beast."

"He was that big?"

"He was that big."

Martha shuddered and slid the box back into its original position. A twinkling of light caught her eye from the shelf above it, and she pulled out yet another tea box. It was relatively simple, compared to the other containers in the Doctor's collection. If anything, it resembled the cufflink box of a well-to-do Victorian gentleman. An austere "8" was engraved into the top.

"So this is from your Eighth regeneration?"

"Yup." The Doctor smiled. "Very good, Martha Jones, you're catching on."

"So can we have this, then? You don't need to reverse the polarity of the tea kettle or add Dalek urine, do you?"

The Doctor grimaced. "Well, no. But there's the simple fact that Americans never mastered the trick of making tea. I'm no exception."

"You were never American, you're an alien."

"Yes, well, I regenerated there."

"Oh..." Martha said. "Probably for the best. They can't make tea."

"Ah, but you can't make coffee."

"True." Martha replied. Well, perhaps if it was American tea, it would best be left alone. She didn't want that. She reached for another numbered box, this one carefully labeled 11. The Doctor quickly leaped at her and knocked her hand away. "We can't drink that! Are you mad?"

"I thought the numbered boxes were yours." Said Martha, confused and taken aback by the Doctor's reaction. "You wouldn't poison it or something?"

"No, but we can't have that one."

"Well, why not?"

"I haven't brewed it yet. Can't have tea you haven't brewed."

"But... It's right there."

The Doctor stood still for a moment, scratching his chin,"Well, yes, it's THERE all right, but I haven't, in fact, brewed it. One of the dangers of time travel. So we can't have it until I figure out how to make it."

"Oh..." She said, and looked again, taking another numbered box. "Have you made this yet?" She asked.

The box was old and dusty. It was all black, with a silvery-white "1" engraved on it.

"Hmm? You'll have to speak up."

"I said, 'Have you brewed it yet?'!"

"No need to be that loud," The Doctor said, "I'm not deaf you know. No, that one's made with a Gallifreyan tea leaf that causes loss of hearing if improperly made."

"And?"

"I didn't make it right."

"That would explain several things," Martha muttered, staring darkly at the black-and-white box. And she wasn't just talking about the tea, either.

"Are you sure you don't want that Sycorax now?" The Doctor said hurriedly, sensing the stormy mood that threatened to engulf Martha. "Or we could have some of the Judoon, if you like..."

"No," Martha said shortly, reaching for another box to hide her anger and confusion. "Let's have this."

The Doctor looked at the plastic cube in her hand with apprehension. "I don't think you want that either, Martha."

"You can't say that until you've seen it."

Martha began trying to open the boxy figure, hunting for the hairline crack that would allow her to see the powder inside. Trouble was, there wasn't one. The Doctor folded his arms and assumed his best innocent face, watching Martha get ever more frustrated. He figured that if she was going to get upset, better she take it out on tea than on him.

With a loud swear, Martha finally admitted defeat about five minutes later. "Dammit," she snarled, giving the cube one last shake. "How on Earth are you supposed to open that?"

"You're not."

"I'm not? Then how the hell am I supposed to get the tea out?" Martha's language became rather foul when she was annoyed.

"There's no need to get the tea out of anywhere."

The Doctor's smiling calm irritated Martha. "Well if we're going to have tea, we can't very well boil the bloody box--"

"There's no need to get the tea out of anywhere because that is the tea."

"What?"

"That's Nestene." He looked at the cube of plastic with a grin. "Bit too smooth for me."

"Well, can we have it?"

"Not unless you want a laminated tongue, Miss Jones."

"Euuugh." She looked at the cube as though she had a bad taste in her mouth and placed it back in its place by the Gelth tea. "No thanks."

She continued searching through the tea cupboard. Something caught her eye out to the corner of the cupboard. She reached into the back. A lever. The Doctor had a secret lever, like in some sort of detective novel.

"Doctor," She asked, "what happens if I pull this?"

"Well," The Doctor asked. "That's the rest of my tea collection."

"You had more?" Martha asked, "And you didn't tell me? You had me looking through plastic tea and American tea and Dalek-piss tea and you had MORE?"

"Well, there isn't much of it... I mean, there's a lot, but it's not very varied."

Martha pulled the lever and it turned around. What remained was a large group of purple and yellow colored boxes. "ALL of that?"

"Well," The Doctor said, "It's not a lot. And it isn't exactly the best, anyway. It's Isolus tea. You remember the Isolus, don't you? The girl with the picture..?"

Martha looked blankly at the Doctor. "Oh," he said. "That was Rose, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Martha replied definitely.

"Well, as I said, it's not very good."

"Then why do you have so much of it?" Martha demanded.

The Doctor looked intently at the wall of tea for a second. "Because," he said slowly. "it doesn't like to be alone..."

Martha looked confused.

"Anyway." The Doctor flipped the lever again, turning the Isolus-side back into its regular position, though Martha had noticed something in his eyes as he hurriedly turned away from her. "I've got thousands of teas here, literally, so you haven't even scratched the surface yet. Keep looking."

Martha snatched the first box within her reach off the shelf. It was made of some kind of shimmering, burgundy metal, and it gave off a faint smell of roasted meat that made Martha open the box to see what was inside. Surely tea leaves didn't smell like beef and mutton.

"And that," the Doctor said, "is Raxacoricofallapatorian tea."

"Raxa...Raxacory...Raxi...who now?"

"The Raxacoricofallapatorians come from the planet Raxacoricofallapatorious," the Doctor said, as though this was everyday knowledge.

"Well, I guessed that," Martha huffed, now running the reddish-brown flakes through her fingers. "But what do they look like?"

"Big, green fellows," the Doctor said conversationally. "Kind of like the little green men your race thinks aliens are, only on steroids."

"Ah." Martha found that her mouth was starting to water, the smell from the substance was so delicious. "So what's in their tea?" It was now more of a game, finding out which ingredients were in each box.

"You'd never believe me if I told you."

Martha punched him playfully in the side. He winced. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Doctor, you've been showing me teas made by Ghosts, teas that don't want to be alone, and teas made by Americans. You think I wouldn't believe you if you told me what was in this one?"

The Doctor sighed. "Fine. Well, the Raxacoricofallapatorians have this one family, the Slitheen. Nasty buggers...anyway, the Slitheen are the family who make the tea most often." He shivered for dramatic effect. "One of the things that they're good at is disguising themselves as "bigger" humanoids, using that victim's skin. So what do you suppose they make their tea of?" He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "I'll give you a hint, it's not a tea for vegetarians."

It took Martha a minute to catch on. "So you're saying they make the tea out of dried innards?"

"Yup."

"I don't believe you!" She was horrified.

"See? What'd I tell you, hm?"

Martha looked dejected for a moment. "Oh. Sorry."

"Quite all right."

Martha looked back into the tea cupboard. So many teas. From all the races of the galaxy. Not surprisingly, they mostly had odd tastes, it would seem. The remains of the people they'd killed, their own urine (and often not even a tea leaf in that.) She came upon another old box. It was earth-toned for the most part, the colors of autumn, deep reds and dark greens, and lots of brown. Written on it in a carefully printed handwriting was the number 4.

"This another one of yours as well?" Martha asked.

" Yes, but you won't like it. It's a bit sweet."

Martha opened the small box and peered in. She inhaled slightly. It WAS sweet. It smelled of a candy, like...

"Jelly Babies?" She asked. "You made a tea out of Jelly Babies?"

"Yes, well, at the time..." The Doctor started.

"How is that even possible?"

"Well," The Doctor replied, "It's easy. You just remove the gelatin which holds the ingredients in suspension, and..."

"So, this tea is mostly sugar?"

"Yes. Do you want some?"

"No, thanks." Martha answered. If she wanted sugar in water, she'd make that. She put the tea back in its place, and selected a box. It was black, almost completely. It should not have been possible for a box of tea to appear evil, and, yet, this one managed it.

"You won't want that."

Martha sighed slightly. "What's wrong with this one?"

"That," The Doctor said, "Is the Master's tea."

Martha laughed "The Master? Doctor, I didn't know you were into that."

The Doctor simply stood his ground. "That is the most evil tea in the universe."

"More evil than the Beast?" Martha asked.

"Yes," the Doctor replied, "More evil than the Beast."

Martha considered for a second.

"And how, exactly, is it possible for a tea to be evil?"

"Well, er..." The Doctor said, "I... It's just evil, okay? Why does it need to be a "How?" with you all the time? If I explain, you won't get it, so I'll just say it's evil."

"Oh." Martha said, "Okay..." She replaced the box of tea on the shelf, and moved her finger over.

"Karfelon... Kraal... Krillitane... K-9?" She stopped at a silvery box with electronic-like writing on it.

"K-9's tea? Oh, I've been looking for that!" The Doctor cried as he took the box from her. He laughed like a little boy as he turned around in his hands, opened the lid, licked his finger and stuck it into the large-grained silvery powder. He was smiling like a madman, even when his face indicated that K-9 left something to be desired in the cuisine department.

"Dear old K-9," he chuckled, replacing the box on the shelf. "Wonderful dog, but couldn't make tea to save his circuits."

"It's that bad?"

"Affirmative."

"So why d'you have it then?"

"Same reason I have the Dalek tea, Martha." He winked roguishly. "Now go ahead and pick another box that suits your fancy."

Now picking random boxes purely for the fun of it, she reached up on tip-toes for another one. This one was wood, but painted to look like tartan. The number "2" was poker-burned into the lid. That was really the only special thing about the Second Doctor's tea. Martha looked disappointedly into the box. "Which one have you got there, Martha?"

"Your Second incarnation's tea."

"Oh? That's probably the closest thing I have to Earl Grey on the TARDIS. Would you like that?"

"Not right now." She caught sight of the Doctor's expression which rivaled hers in disappointment.

"What?"

"I would like a tea like that," he murmured. "It's all right, though. Go ahead and pick another one."

The next box she took was very rough-hewn, as though shaped with primitive tools. Strangely, though, the box, instead containing of the whispering, sandpapery sound of powder, sloshed whenever she moved it. "What's in here, Doctor?"

"Ah," The Doctor said, "That is a very special tea from a good friend of ours. I'm sure you remember Lazlo?"

"You don't expect me to believe that Lazlo gave you this, do you?" Martha asked incredulously. They'd only left New York minutes ago. And she was sure The Doctor wouldn't have had time to go put this tea away. It had been such a short time.

"Well, not just now, no." The Doctor said. "I stopped by in a few months a year or so ago."

"Doctor, I won't even try to comprehend that sentence."

"Well, it's quite simple, really." The Doctor said. "I stopped by a time which was for him a few months from now, but for me a year or so ago, and got it as a thank you gift."

"So he thanked you for something you hadn't done yet?"

The Doctor gave one of his winning smiles. "That's the beauty of time travel, isn't it? You don't know what you've done until after you do it. And then it's too late."

Martha leaned over and sniffed the foul mixture. She tore her head away in disgust. "EUGH! What's that?"

"That," The Doctor said, "is Pig Slave tea."

Martha looked at the Doctor in horror. "You mean Lazlo actually drinks this stuff?"

"Yes."

"But what's in it?"

The Doctor leaned over it and sniffed slightly. "Mud." He said.

"You mean," Martha said, almost retching "They drank MUD?"

"Of course not. It's got a pinch of nutmeg."

"Like that would make me feel better about drinking it..." Martha put the tea hastily back, continuing with her game of tea-searching. "Now," She said, reaching out for another box. This one was old and wooden as well, made of gnarled and knotted wood which had a slight red tinge to it.

"Doctor, you didn't label this one."

"That's because that," said the Doctor, "is Carrionite tea."

"Carrionite tea?" Martha opened the small box and breathed in the scent, fully expecting to inhale a sotting mixture of blood and foul-smelling magic. Instead, however, the dark, infintesmial grains smelled delicious.

"Doctor, what's in Carrionite?" She inhaled again. "It smells like ced--"

"Don't say it!"

The words were hissed with such unexpected ferocity that Martha flinched. "What?" She looked at the Doctor with hurt eyes, and he sighed.

"Er...sorry Martha..." he intoned, ruffling his hair. "But you can't do that. I made the same mistake last time I had a box of Carrionite tea. I went through hell and back to get two more usable boxes."

"Why?"

"I couldn't brew it because I named the ingredients."

Martha giggled. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

With a wistful look at the delectable contents of the Carrionite, she put the box back on the shelf. The next box she pulled out was a simple steel one, with a curly "10" etched into the stainless surface.

"This is your tea!"

"Oh, yeah." The Doctor looked quite embarrassed, but happy. "Here, open it, it should be good."

Eagerly, almost too eager, Martha flipped open the lid. For a few seconds, she couldn't distinguish anything unusual. Then--

"Achoo!"

"Careful, Martha, careful!" The Doctor cried, taking the box from her. "Don't sneeze in the tea!"

"I can't help it!" She snarled at him, sneezing two or three times in the process. "What's in there?"

The Doctor opened the box and looked quizically at the sand-like substance in the box. "Tea leaves," he said, "tea leaves, some sugar, and ginger."

"I'm allergic to ginger!"

"Fine, fine." The Doctor replaced the box on the shelf with a look of longing and turned to the sneezing Martha. With a whirr of the Sonic Screwdriver, her allergies quieted enough for her to look balefully at him. "Why do you have ginger in your tea anyway?"

"Long story."

"I've got time."

"Well, to keep it short, I've always wanted to be ginger...but I figured since I can't be ginger this time around, I can have ginger in my tea."

Martha made a very strange squeaking noise that sounded like the hybrid of a shriek of mirth and a hiccough.

"Come on," The Doctor complained, "let's just have the Sycorax. We have a train to catch."

"A train?" Asked Martha. "Can't we just... Er... Tard somewhere?"

"Well, yes," The Doctor said, "We COULD get there with the TARDIS. Which is why the TARDIS is set to arrive on the train in about an hour."

"What, you're taking a TARDIS to a train?"

"Well, yeah."

"And where are we taking the train to?" Martha asked.

The Doctor smiled. "We're taking it back to the TARDIS."

"Which is on the train?"

"Precisely. I'll set the TARDIS to show up on the train three hours later." Martha rolled her eyes. Her new friend was peculiar in so many ways. But if he insisted... She, without looking, grabbed a box of tea from the shelf. "Will this one kill me?"

"No."

"Blow me up?"

"No."

"Turn my tongue to plastic?"

"No."

"Sounds good enough for me." She said. "What sort of tea is it?"

"Well..." The Doctor said.

The Orient Express, Paris, 1893.

The aging porter pushed the trolley of teas down the hall, and stopped at one of the doors. The people inside of it, he had to admit, were peculiar looking. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked.

The man in the long coat gave a perky smile and promptly held up a steaming cup. "We're fine." He said, in a bright English accent.

"Oh, I see you are." That was odd. He didn't remember serving these two, but if they said he had...

"Err..." he started, thinking something might be expected off him, "How is the tea?"

The Englishman smiled. "Oh," He said, "It's fantastic."

Moonshoe's Note: And there you have it, a crack!fic by Moonshoes and Mafia. If you feel the need to flayme, I suggest you do it as civilly as possible. And suggest ways we can improve it along with your flayme. The authors thank you.

PS: Look at the name of the flower that Judoon tea is made from. Now read it backwards.