1: The Eleventh Hour - Part I

**IMPORTANT**
Anyone who has read my fanfiction 'The Twelfth Hour' can go ahead an skip to chapter 3. BUT some slight changes have been made, but you can still skip ahead.

It was silly. Why would Santa pay attention to him at this time of year? Besides, you couldn't just talk to him, you had to write a letter! Jonathan shook off the thoughts and concentrated on the problem at hand. He sat down on his bed and closed his eyes.

"Dear Santa… Thank you for the cars and all the other toys you've given me. It's near Halloween, so I hope I'm not bothering you with the season coming. But I promise it's important…it's an emergency."

He quickly glanced at his closet before closing his eyes tightly once more. "There's…something wrong with my closet. Harry says it's nothing to worry about, and says I'm just scared of shadows, but I know it's no ordinary closet. And I know this because…I can hear voices and strange noises coming from it at night. So, if you can, please send someone to fix it. One of your elves, or—or even a policeman!"

Suddenly, a strange sound interrupted his thoughts. It was a whooshing, grinding sound. Then it was interrupted with a crash. Jonathan looked up. "Be right back." He then jumped off of his bed and looked out his window. A blue box was lying on its side in the front yard. He went back to his bed. "Thank you, Santa." Jonathan quickly threw on a coat and hurried out the door.

Jonathan ran out of the door as he zipped up his jacket. He went over to the box and stood in front of it. Without warning, the doors swung out, steam pouring out of it and making Jonathan jump. Then a grappling hook was thrown out, latching on to the edge of the box. After a few moments of suspense, a hand grabbed on to the edge, followed by another. Then a head popped out. Jonathan took a step back.

It was a strange man. The man was soaking wet. He had ripped clothes, and this made him look awfully ragged. He grinned from ear to ear and Jonathan could only stare. "Can I have an apple?" he said. "All I can think about. Apples. I love apples. Maybe I'm having a craving! That's new, never had cravings before." The raggedy man stepped on to the edge of the box and sat down on it. He looked back down into the strange blue box and gazed at the interior. "Woooah...! Look at that!"

"Um…are you okay?" wondered Jonathan.

"Just had a bit of a fall, that's all. All the way down there, right to the library." He shook his head. "One heck of a climb to get back up."

Jonathan cocked his head slightly. "But you're wet. If you fell into the library, how are you wet?"

"I was in the pool."

Jonathan got a bit annoyed. "But you said you were in the library!"

"So is the pool."

There was a short silence between the two. "Are you a policeman?" Jonathan asked. The man inspected Jonathan for a moment.

"Why? Did you call a policeman?"

"Yeah, I did," said Jonathan with a nod. "Or at least I guess I did. Did you come about my closet?"

"Closet?—" The raggedy man stopped short a jerked a little bit and fell off of the box on to the soft soil. Jonathan gasped.

"Are you okay?" The strange man jumped up and opened his mouth and some strange gold dust floated out. Jonathan's eyes widened. "Who are you?"

"Not quite sure yet. Still cooking." The man shook his head and smiled. "Does it scare you?"

"It's actually not scary, just a bit weird."

"No no, the closet," the man clarified.

"Oh, well, I guess I am scared of it…"

The man grinned. "Well I can help." He bounced up and down and looked at his hand, softly glowing gold.

"Who are you?" asked Jonathan again.

"I'm The Doctor," he said proudly. He turned around and walked straight into a tree.

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The Doctor and Jonathan and were both in the kitchen as John searched the fridge for an apple. The Doctor casually looked around the room, taking everything in. "If you're a doctor, why does your box say 'police' on it?" Jonathan handed him an apple and he took it, looking slightly affronted. He sniffed it and took a bite. He then nonchalantly spit it out. Jonathan scrunched his face as the bits of food flew past his face.

The Doctor held up the apple. "This is disgusting. What is it?"

"It's an apple, like you asked for."

"This is gross. I hate apples, apples are rubbish."

Jonathan was confused. "But you said you loved apples!"

"No no no no, I like yogurt. I need yogurt. Yogurt's my favorite. Gimme yogurt."

Jonathan rushed to the fridge and grabbed a blueberry yogurt. He closed the door and went over to The Doctor. The Doctor snatched the yogurt and took a big mouthful, promptly spitting it back out. "Yogurt. It is so bland. It's just stuff with bits in it."

"But you said it was your favourite!"

"Not anymore. New mouth, new rules. It's like eating after brushing your teeth. Everything tastes WROOOONNNGG!" The Doctor's head jerked back, as if feeling something course through his body. He brought his hand up to his forehead and slapped as he straightened once more.

"What is it? Are you alright? What's wrong with you?" asked Jonathan intensively, pestering The Doctor with his questions.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing's wrong with me! It's not my fault I can't get any decent food. You're British; make a pastry or something. How 'bout crumpets?"

"I can't cook pastries," confessed Jonathan. "But I can cook some meat."

After several minutes of him frying bacon and The Doctor drying himself with a towel, Jonathan gave him the food. "Oooooh, bacon! Bacon's good." The Doctor began to eat as soon as the plate was put in front of him. Jonathan was feeling proud of himself until The Doctor spit the food into his hand and put it back on the plate. "This is bacon," The Doctor stated. He leaned in close. "Are you trying to poison me?"

After going through beans (which were spit into the sink and being declared as "bad bad beans") and bread and butter (which was immediately thrown out the door and told to stay out) Jonathan was running out of options. "I have some pears," he suggested.

"Pears?" asked The Doctor in horror. "Are you mad? Wait!" he said. "I know what I need!" He ran over to the fridge and opened it, taking out two boxes. "Fish fingers…and custard!"

A few minutes later, Jonathan was sitting across The Doctor at the table. The Doctor was dipping the fish fingers into the custard and eating them while Jonathan had some plain custard.

"Interesting."

"Interesting. That's often good. I'm glad I'm interesting. Great. What's your name?"

"Jonathan Watson."

"Interesting. Like John Watson from the Sherlock Holmes stories." Jonathan gave The Doctor a confused look. "The colleague of Holmes. Watson." Jonathan continued to give him a confused look. "Right. Your parents must have thought it through. Speaking of which, shouldn't we have waken them by now?"

"They're not here."

"Is anyone else here?"

"No. My sister's at a friend's house."

"So you're alone?"

"I'm not scared!" protested Jonathan.

"Of course you're not scared! You're not scared of much. Box falls out of sky. Man climbs out of box. Man eats fish custard. You wanna know what I think of all this?" John gave him a look that said: 'What?' The Doctor leaned back in his chair. "That must be one heck of a scary closet you have."

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The Doctor examined the closet as Jonathan stood at the door. "I wasn't very fond of apples before. Then my mum started putting words and pictures on them, so I ate 'em." He held out an apple with the letters I O U. The Doctor gave it a weird look as he put it in his pocket. Jonathan walked up to the closet. "Can you find out what's wrong?" he inquired. The Doctor put his ear to the closet door and rubbed it, knocking on it occasionally.

He pushed himself away from it and took out a small silver device with a light at the top. "Have you ever opened this closet, Jonathan?"

He shook his head. "No, actually."

"Now why would you never open a closet?" The Doctor asked.

"Because it couldn't be opened." The Doctor turned to Jonathan. "Can you fix it?"

"Maybe. You know how an adult says everything will be fine but you know they're lying?" Jonathan nodded with a sigh. "Everything's going to be fine."

The Doctor pointed the strange device at the closet. He pressed a button and it buzzed and glowed blue. There was a bang and the door swung open. Jonathan's mouth was agape.

There was a whole different room inside! But it was definitely not part of the house. It was futuristic, but a bit dark, since the lights weren't on. The Doctor was not phased by this in any way whatsoever, seeming to have had experience with this sort of thing. Suddenly, someone came into view. They were of normal height, but weren't normal humans at all. They had two extra fingers (as the glove indicated) on each hand. They were bald, but the head was wavy. The actual head! They seemed shocked that The Doctor and Jonathan were looking in through the doorway. "Intruders! Raise the alarm! There are two intru—" Though the strange person didn't get to finish the sentence. The Doctor slammed the door shut and pointed his small machine at the doorknob, making a buzz and a click.

Jonathan was in shock. "Who was that?" he asked worriedly. "What was that?"

The Doctor started pacing the room. "That was a Chuntarian. An alien. They hunt and collect and sell people corpses. It's morbid, but it's their way of life. That was the Chuntarian ship, but why does your closet lead to it?" Then some strange noises interrupted. The Doctor looked out the window. "No!" He ran down the staircase and ran out the door. He hurried to the box. "It needs to be fixed. Quick jump into space at the edge of the solar system and jump into the future should give a good start. That should do it!"

"Jump into space? Jump into the future? How? It's just a box!"

"It's not just a box! It's a time machine. It can travel through space too."

"But I want to go with you!" protested Jonathan.

"You can't. It'll kill you until it's fixed. Five minutes, that's all. I'll be back in five."

"Then can I go?"

"Maybe. Geronimoooooooooo!"

The mysterious blue box disappeared with grinding whooshing noises and the light on top blinking. Jonathan ran back inside and into his room. He took his backpack off of its hook and began putting clothes and other things in it. He zipped it up and ran outside with it, proper shoes and a cap on. He went into the front yard and sat down on the short brick wall. He sat there and waited, telling himself: "He said five minutes, it'll probably just take one more." Jonathan continued telling himself this for quite a while. Sooner than he though he would, Jonathan fell asleep, only to be found by his sister the next morning.

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All was calm in the outskirts of London. Nothing exciting was happening. Then suddenly, a noise broke the silence. It was like a leaf lower with rocks stuck in it…for lack of a better description. This noise was coming from none other then a blue box that slowly began to fade into the scene. Once it was solid, the door swung open and a man stepped out. He wore a messed up tie with a ripped shirt and pants torn at the knees. The clothes gave him a ragged appearance. This man was The Doctor. He looked around and saw the house he needed.

The Doctor ran up to the door. "Jonathan!" he yelled. "Jonathan, I figured out what was wrong! I know all of it now, but you have got to get out of this house!" He put his sonic screwdriver up to the door handle and pressed the button. The Doctor had to hit it on his hand a few times to get it to work. Once the door was open, he hurried inside.

The Doctor ran up the stairs and into Jonathan's empty room. He put his ear against the closet door. Taking out the sonic screwdriver, he scanned it. "There's still a bridge," he muttered. "There's still a bridge to the Chuntarian's ship!" said The Doctor in a raised voice. He bounced up and down. "Can't anyone hear me?" Something wasn't right. He heard a floorboard creak behind him. The Doctor was about to turn around when something hit him in the back of the head, knocking him out cold.

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The Doctor slowly came to his senses. He blinked several times, trying to quickly regain full consciousness. "Great. Brand new me. Just what I need, a clonk on the head." He looked up and saw a man. He had his arms folded as he looked down at The Doctor. The Doctor tried to stand but fell back down when he realized his hand was zip-tied to the desk. He looked around, knowing he was still in Jonathan's room.

"Who are you and why are you here?" the man asked, getting straight to the point.

The Doctor ignored the question and threw out his own. "Who are you? Where's Jonathan?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Jonathan?"

"Yeah, that little ten year old boy! He lives here!"

"Nobody has lived here for a two and a half years," he said, shaking his head. The Doctor groaned, realizing he was late. Really late.

"Great, right. Two years. Well who are you? No one lives here, why are you here?"

"I was in the neighborhood when I saw that box out front. Plus, sometimes I work alongside the police."

"So you're with the police?"

The man paused. "Yes."

"Well we need to get out of here. We need to leave, now."

"Why?" he asked.

The Doctor was getting impatient. "Just cut me loose, okay? The Chuntarians will overtake this house then infiltrate the planet. We need to get out of here! The closet won't remain sealed forever!"

"The closet? The Chuntarians? Are you mad?"

"Don't you realize?" The Doctor asked in a hushed tone. "The world is in danger!" The man turned around to look at the closet. He stepped towards it. "What…what are you doing? Get away from it!" The Doctor reached in his pocket only to find his sonic screwdriver missing. He searched the room for a pair of scissors to cut the zip-tie. He spotted some not that far from him, having fallen off the desk. He reached out to grab it, but couldn't reach. The Doctor looked back up at the person who was jiggling the handle of the closet door. "Don't open that door!"

"I can't," he said. He faced The Doctor. "What was that thing in your pocket?"

"It's called a sonic screwdriver, does it matter? Now come back here and cut me loose!" The man ignored The Doctor's protests and reached into his pant pocket, taking out The Doctor's sonic. "Give that to me!" he ordered. The man pointed it at the doorknob and pressed the button, making it buzz. "How do you even know how to work that?" The Doctor asked, mostly to himself. "Do I just have a face no one listens to?"

The man opened the door with a creak and stepped inside. The Doctor's hearts were beating quickly. He reached for the scissors again, managing to reach out and grab them. The Doctor then got to work trying to cut the thick zip-tie with the flimsy scissors.

Back in the closet, the man was in shock. It was a whole different place! He went further inside, exploring the place that was definitely not part of the house. It was futuristic, and mostly metal. He looked here and there before running into someone. Their eyes narrowed. They had seven fingers on each hand and a bald, wavy head. The man's eyes widened. "Intruder!" yelled the alien. "Intruder on board!" Suddenly a hand grabbed his arm. It was The Doctor.

"Run."

The Doctor and the still unnamed man were running as fast as they could. "Intruders! Raise the alarm!" Lights flashed and the two men ran. The Doctor grinned as he looked back and saw four Chuntarian guards in hot pursuit. The two men ran through the door and into the bedroom. The Doctor grabbed his sonic from the man and closed the door, locking it.

They both leaned against the door, panting and trying to catch their breath. "So," said The Doctor, "what's your name?"

"Is that really important right now?"

"Well I'm not going to call you 'guy' or 'you' anymore, so I'm going to need your name."

"When I need to tell you, I'll tell you." He pushed off from the door. "Now can you tell me why this door—" His phone dinged, interrupting his sentence. He sighed and took it out, looking at the text message.

Get to Scotland Yard
-SH

"What's that?" asked The Doctor, trying to get a look.

"Nothing," said the man, jerking his phone away. "I just need to go."

He began to walk away and The Doctor followed. "You're unfazed about the fact that you just walked onto an alien space ship. You act like you've seen it before; why?"

He tried to wave it off. "I've seen strange things in my life, okay?" They walked out the door and into the front yard.

The Doctor was about to say something until he saw the brick wall out in front. The same brick wall Jonathan had sat on. "Wait wait wait." The Doctor ran over to it and did some half circles around it. "That's strange. When I came last, I landed on it. Half of it was smashed to pieces!" He looked closely at the newer side. "But this has to be at least fifteen years old!" He sniffed, rubbed, and licked the wall. "It's twenty years old," he said quietly. "I'm not two years late…I'm twenty years late." The Doctor turned to the man. "You told me no one has lived here in two years, but the part of the wall I broke is twenty years old, how is that?" The man opened and closed his mouth a few times. "How is that possible? Two years and twenty years, how are they the same? They aren't! Why did you say two and a half years?"

The man snapped. "Well why did you say only five minutes?!" he yelled.

The Doctor was silent. "J-J…" he stuttered.

Jonathan Watson hailed a taxi. He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said in a not sorry tone, "I have to get to Scotland Yard." He climbed into the cab and left a confused and upset Doctor in the front yard of his old house.

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Sherlock and John stood in Lestrade's office. Sherlock had noticed John was awfully quiet since he came back from the suburbs of London. He had clearly been running, but why? He was slightly angry, but at whom?

"We've got kidnappings," said Lestrade, giving Sherlock a folder. He opened it. "There's—"

"Murders," said Sherlock.

"Excuse me?" said Lestrade.

"Murders. Not kidnappings. There's some blood on the carpet in this photo," Sherlock said, holding it up, "and there's a little bit of blood on the table in this one." He held up the other picture.

"Of course we saw that, but our sources tell us that it was not a murder. There was no motive. These are just normal, everyday people! No money for ransom and no political importance to result in a kidnap, let alone a murder!"

"Chuntarian," said The Doctor, walking casually into the room. "They're the cause. But that doesn't make sense, they know it's against the galactic laws to attack a class five planet!"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" wondered Lestrade.

"I'm The Doctor," he said simply.

"You're acting worse than my sister," muttered John.

"I'm The Doctor, I'm worse than everybody's sister…That's not how I'm introducing myself. Now! We need to get back to Jonathan's old house and stop them before there's more attacks."

"It's just John now, Doctor," John muttered.

The Doctor turned to the blogger. "Why'd you change it?"

"Not enough like the stories."

"Do you know this guy?" Lestrade asked John, jabbing his thumb towards The Doctor.

"Clearly," Sherlock said. "Is this who you're angry with, John?"

"I don't believe I know your name," said The Doctor.

"Sherlock Holmes," he said. The Doctor stopped moving around and stood stock still, looking at Sherlock. He walked closer to him.

"You? You're Sherlock Holmes? But…how is that possible?" He turned swiftly around, looking at the others. "What year is it?"

"2008," said Lestrade. "Can someone get this mad man out of here?" he called out.

"2008, exactly! No where near the nineteenth century! Although I must say, it is a fun place. But still! You are THE Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes. The world's only consulting detective." It was strange. Sherlock couldn't deduce the man. All he could see on him was old eyes. Eyes that held all the knowledge in the universe in them. Eyes that have seen everything. "Why are you so surprised?"

"Tell me if any of these ring a bell," The Doctor said. "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?" He got no response from the other three in the room. "Okay…A Study in Scarlet?"

"We had a case that we called A Study in Pink," said John.

"We? You named it that," corrected Sherlock. "I wasn't involved in the creation of that title in anyway. Not that I even wanted you posting our cases on your blog in the first place."

The Doctor seemed to be in shock. "John Watson and Sherlock Holmes," he said quietly. A grin broke out on his face. It quickly fell. "Fictional, but how?!" He slapped his head over and over again.

"I'm sorry," said John, "fictional?"

"I don't expect you to understand," The Doctor muttered. "Think think think think think think think think—"

An explosion rattled their thoughts. It didn't reached them, but they could feel the shake. People screamed and ran in every direction. Sherlock looked out the window and down at the ground. The building was on fire only a few floors down. He turned towards the others. "We need to vacate the building," he said. "There's a fire two floors down. It won't be long before it reaches this level."

"You three," said The Doctor, pointing to Lestrade, John, and Sherlock. "Get to the fire escape."

"But what about you?" asked John.

"I have something I need to get. And it's two floors down." He ran out of the office and wouldn't let anyone stop him.

"Well what are we standing around for?" Lestrade asked. "Let's go!" John didn't move. Sherlock grabbed him and pushed him out the door.

John looked towards the stairs and saw The Doctor running down them. He looked back to the Sherlock, then the staircase, and back at Holmes. "Sorry, Sherlock." He turned to the staircase. "Raggedy Doctor, you have a lot of explaining to do," he muttered.

John took off down the staircase, ignoring people's calls. He saw the smoke coming up the stairwell and reacted. John pulled the collar of his shirt up over his mouth and nose, trying to block out the smoke as best he could. He got down to the floor below and looked around, smoke stinging his eyes. He spotted The Doctor going further down the staircase. He ran down the steps, determine to bring the mysterious Doctor back away from the fire.

John got down to the level with the explosion. He saw a fairly large whole in the wall with smoke and fire everywhere. "Doctor!" he called out in a muffled voice. He swiveled around on the spot. There was so much smoke. "Doctor!" He coughed several times, eyes watering. Then he saw him. He was picking up the small metal device he used to open and close the closet door. He looked up and spotted John. "Doctor!"

"John! Jonathan, you're a bloody idiot!"

Smoke continued to infiltrate his lungs. He coughed again and the shirt fell. He fell to his knees, coughing nonstop. He tried to pull the collar over his face again, but his hands were covered in perspiration, making it difficult for him to get a good grip. He stood up and tried to get towards The Doctor, but flames soon blocked his path. It was too hard. There was so much smoke, so much fire. "Jonathan!" yelled The Doctor. "John, go to the fire escape! Go!" John hesitated before making his way to the fire escape. He got to the door and grabbed the doorknob. He yelped as he retracted his hand. That was gonna leave a mark. There was a fire behind the door. He was trapped in a burning building with no way out.

John tried to fight for consciousness. He did his best to stay close to the ground in not breath the fumes. But the ground was covered in ashes and fire. He heard creaking and looked up. John jumped away before getting smashed by pieces of the ceiling. Unfortunately, it got his right leg. He grit his teeth. This was bad. This was really bad. Sooner than he had hoped, John fell unconscious.

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"Wake up!"

Who was that?

"John, get up!"

Oh, they wanted him.

"Come on!"

John opened his eyes and sat up quickly. The Doctor grabbed his shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked. John winced as he put weight on his hand.

"Yeah, I-I think I'll be okay." He glanced around. They were in a dark warehouse on a hard, cold, concrete floor. "Where are we?"

The Doctor looked up and turned, taking in the room. "Don't know. I black out trying to find you, next thing I know, we're here and you're unconscious on the floor." He stood up and was stock still. "Something's not right."

"Yes, you're right. We're in a warehouse."

"No. I mean, yes. I mean–…Oh!…" The Doctor trailed off, trying to find out what was happening. He felt a wave of pain course through him and he let out a hiss of pain. "It's too early for this," he muttered. "It's too soon. I'm not ready, not done yet."

It was silent for a bit and The Doctor leaned against the wall. "I haven't gotten answers," John said.

The Doctor looked up. "Wha'?"

"I said, I haven't gotten answers. This can't be real. This is one huge setup or-or something! The Chuntarian? Really? Aliens don't exist! This could easily just be one elaborate case I've involuntarily been put on!"

"It's real Jonathan," The Doctor said. "It's all real. Aliens exist. We set off the alarm on their ship twenty minutes ago. After forty-five minutes, they leave the atmosphere and blow up the planet to get rid of any evidence. We have twenty-five minutes to save the world. Why would this be a setup?"

"You said you had a time machine!"

"And you believed me."

"Well I don't know if you can't tell, but I'm not ten anymore. I've grown up, which must be something strange to you, clearly!" John yelled, gesturing up and down the Doctor.

"Growing up is never something you want to do." The Doctor paused when realization struck him. "Wait! The Chuntarian! They always go after the more special aliens. They wen't after me and you! I'm the last Time Lord, OF COURSE! And you may be asking yourself: 'Why me?' Well I'll tell you why. YOU are supposed to be fictional. These things don't often happen you know, books coming to life. Sure details can get mixed up over time and then written down. Take King Arthur for example. He's real, just not all the magic and all of that. But you exist after your time, and that shouldn't be! This is brilliant! A wonderful puzzle worth solving, but for a later day. We've been taken by the Chuntarian. I know how to defeat them but I'll need an extra hand. So…call your loved ones and say goodbye…or…stick with me and save the world."

There was a moment of silence between the two before John spoke. "No," he whispered.

"What?"

"NO!"

He grabbed The Doctor by his tie and pulled him over to the wall where a pipe was sticking out. "John!" said a very surprised Doctor. "No! Jonathan, what are you—?" John quickly pulled a zip tie from earlier out of his pocket and tied The Doctor to the pipe. "Jonathan, are you out of your mind?"

"Who are you?"

"Oh, you already know who I am."

"No. Really. Who are you, for real?"

"The Chuntarian are going to come."

"Then you better talk quickly."

The Doctor reached into his pocket with his free hand and rummaged around for a little bit before he found it. "Catch," he said, tossing an apple to John. John turned it over in his hands when he saw the letters, I O U. He looked up at The Doctor. "It's the same one," the Time Lord said, "and you know it is." He paused.

"I'm The Doctor. I'm a time traveler. Everything I told you twenty years ago is true. It's all true. I'm real. What's happening in this warehouse is real. And if you don't cut me loose right now, we will probably both die, and so will many others. We have twenty-five minutes." He put a hand on John's shoulder. "Trust me for twenty-five minutes."

Slowly, John reached into his pocket and took out his pocket knife. He cut The Doctor loose. "What do we do."

The Doctor smiled. "Get the Chuntarian's attention. And do you know what? Nothing says: 'Hey, look at me!' more than a sonic screwdriver!" The Doctor thrusted his sonic in the air and pressed the button. A high pitched buzz came from it, and the lights began to flicker. It snapped and sparked. The Doctor dropped his sonic on the ground. "No, no no no no! NO! Don't do that to me!" He kneeled down, trying to pick up the hopeless pieces of charred metal.

"Doctor," said John. The Doctor looked up to where John was looking.

"A window! Brilliant!" He ran over to the wall and looked up. "It's a bit high up there though." Footsteps could be heard.

"Um…Doctor, what was the plan after we got the Chuntarians' attention?" wondered John.

"Getting their attention was the plan," The Doctor said. "I was kind of winging it after that." He looked around frantically and spotted a box. He hurried over to it and pushed it over to the window.

"Doctor…" said John, noticing the steps getting closer.

"I know, I know!" He got on top of the box and pushed open the window. "John, go!" John got on the box and slid out the window. The Doctor turned back around and saw two Chuntarian.

"The captives are escaping!" one yelled. The Doctor held onto the windowsill and kicked away the box. He pulled himself up and out through the window. He hadn't expected such a large drop, but hey! There were bushes to help break the fall. He got up and saw John leaning on the side of the building.

"So…" The Doctor said. "Twenty-five minutes to save the world from getting burned?"