Clara and the Eleventh Doctor end up in Manhattan Night Court in the nineteen eighties while being pursued by a rogue sect of Daleks.
If there is anyone from the UK who knows about the show Night Court, drop a review and I'll post your username in the Author's Note section. The show is adorably absurd. This chapter is short, but it would be too long for a one-shot.
The Doctor and the Judge
"We're in New York in the nineteen eighties, Doctor," Clara whispered as they were led out of holding area. "What are we going to do?"
"Just follow my lead," he said in a low tone. "Follow my lead and we should be able to get out of here quickly and back to the TARDIS."
"Is it functional?" she asked.
"We'll see as soon as we're out of here."
"What do we have next Mac?" the judge called out.
"A pair of British nationals," the man said as they appeared before the judge. The dark-skinned man smiled and leaned into blond-haired judge's ear. "John Smith and Clara Oswald. They claim to be spies."
"Spies," he said slowly.
"British intelligence officers!" the Doctor said.
Clara rolled her eyes. This sounded exactly like the sort of plan that would not work.
"What are the charges?" the judge asked.
"Misdemeanor theft of stolen goods," the clerk said.
"Our flight arrived late, and we needed the materials to create a weapon to ward off terror," he said. "I'll pay for all the goods now."
"To the tune one hundred dollars?" the clerk asked.
The Doctor sighed.
The prosecutor with graying dark hair in a three-piece suit leered at them.
"Couldn't the Queen loan you some money?" he said
"The banks in Britain aren't open yet," he said.
"What is the threat?" the Judge asked.
The Doctor slowly approached him.
"That is classified information," he said in a dangerous tone.
"Right," the judge said. "Counselors, would you come forward please?"
Clara and the Doctor took a step back. However, they could hear what they were saying.
"Miss. Sullivan, I can't tell you how to do your job, but might I suggest a psychiatric hold for these two?"
Clara stared daggers at the Doctor. The Doctor shrugged.
"I'm not convinced they aren't spies, Your Honor," the blond-haired woman said. "He had what looked the identification papers for that of a spy."
"Anyone can print out something on a card and claim it's real," the prosecutor said.
"Then let me see the thing," he said.
The clerk looked at it before passing it to him.
"It is nifty," he said. "Military Intelligence."
The Judge stared it.
"What are you talking about?"
"What?" the prosecutor "It's clear as day."
"What I'm holding is a blank piece of paper."
Clara stared at the Doctor, who looked equally shocked.