Author's Note: Hello, fandom, I am back! Hooray! Oh dear, the Doctor's looking a bit cross. I haven't had any ideas for this fandom since May 2012 – that was ages ago, I'm sorry. I have an idea now, Doctor, so if you'll stop tapping your foot at me like that we can get on with it.

It's Snot Funny

As soon as Clara heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS materialising she was abandoning her Sunday afternoon tea, flinging her jacket over her shoulders, and sprinting out to the garden. And there it was, she sighed, right on top of her little vegetable patch. Again.

She shrugged, and jogged the last of the distance between herself and the TARDIS. Her hand had just closed around the door handle when—

"Wait!" said a voice from inside.

Clara frowned, and pressed her ear against the door. "Doctor?"

"Er... I could use some of your help," the Doctor said, "just don't let any out."

"Any what out?"

BOOM!

At the thunderous noise from somewhere in the TARDIS, Clara immediately went inside; not sure exactly what she'd see, ready to face the danger. She was expecting, perhaps, a bomb. But as she closed the door quickly behind her, she found she was surrounded by lots of tiny little green things. They looked slimy. They were jumping up and down with excitement, dancing around her feet.

"Baa!" said one.

"Baa, baa," agreed another.

There was no bomb she could see, just lots and lots of little green – Clara bent down to have a closer look at them – sheep?

There were about ten of them, and as Clara tried to work out what they were made of (she poked one, and it sort of distorted under her finger, before bouncing back into shape), there was another loud explosion.

BOOM!

"Doctor?" Clara called out, her eyes searching as much of the console room as possible.

A head popped up from the other side of the console. "Hello, Clara."

The Doctor looked terrible. He was sitting on the floor, back to the console. He was pale, had huge bags under his eyes, and was holding onto a handkerchief so tightly it was almost as if his life depended upon it.

"What's the matter with you?" Clara asked, taking a step towards him while trying not to stand on any of the little green sheep.

He sighed miserably. "I've got the – the – the – achoo! – cold," he said. He lowered his hanky to the floor, and two more little green sheep trotted out to greet the others.

"Baa, baa!" said the first.

One jumped onto his foot and looked down at the others, letting out a triumphant, "Baa!"

Clara found that her mouth was hanging open.

BOOM!

A sheep that had been standing quite near Clara spontaneously exploded, bits of green goo flying everywhere. Her hands automatically covered her ears. "Doctor, what was that?" She pointed – hysterically was arguable – at floor where the sheep had been standing before exploding. She noticed some of the goo had landed on her tights and she used a hand to wipe it off.

"It was a Snot Sheep," he said simply, as if that explained everything. Clara froze. He looked up at her. "What?"

Clara was suddenly a blur of movement, frantically wiping her hands on anything she could find. It turned out to be a railing. "Ew, ew, ew, ew – it's your snot?! Ah, ew, it's on my hands! I poked your snot!"

BOOM!

Another Snot Sheep bit the dust. Or the, er, snot... it exploded in a snotty fashion, okay?

"Breathe, Clara, just breathe," the Doctor said. He went to demonstrate, but instead sneezed, and another sheep trotted out of the hanky when he lowered it to the floor.

"Baa!" it said happily to anyone who'd listen, not at all repulsed at being made up of Time Lord bogeys.

Clara took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm alright, I'm okay." Another breath. "So... you make Snot Sheep when you have a cold – why?"

"Nobody really knows. I just catch a cold off a human – it was probably you, actually – and then Snot Sheep appear." He looked wistful. "We had Snot Sheep Wranglers back on Gallifrey. Specialists in their field, could round them up so very well. Then they'd take them to Splott."

Clara did a double-take. "Splott? Isn't that somewhere in Wales?"

"Also the name of the Planet of the Snot People, though the people prefer to be called 'Phlegm People'. They find 'snot' as a word to be offensive."

"Right," Clara said at length. "But how is 'phlegm' a better word?" she asked. At the same time as she finished asking her question, another green sheep exploded and she let out a little squeak.

Before he could answer, the Doctor started to cough. "I'll get you a drink," she said. She placed her jacket somewhere she hoped would be snot-free, and jogged off to the kitchen. She returned a few moments later with a glass of water. She paused at the top of the stairs, looking down in confusion at the little sheep that was waiting for her at the bottom.

The Doctor cleared his throat and smiled at the sheep. "Ooh, look, he likes you!"

"Great," said Clara, not certain that it actually was anything near 'great', carefully moving her feet so she didn't step on her snotty admirer.

After the Doctor had finished his drink, he explained, "On Splott, the Phlegm People and the Snot Sheep and the Catarrh Alligators all start families... so long as they don't spontaneously explode. It happens very often, that, shame really. So many broken families..." The Doctor sniffed, and Clara could have sworn there were tears in his eyes.

BOOM!

"What are we going to do with them all?"

The Doctor brightened just a little. "Round them up, take them to Splott so they can be happy," he said. "I do hope they don't explode."

Clara insisted on wearing gloves, an apron, and plastic bags on her feet (the little Snot Sheep did so like to jump up on her toes) as she helped the Doctor to round up his flock. It didn't help that he kept sneezing more of them out. One exploded so close to Clara she spilled the glass of water she'd refilled for the Doctor, only to find that some of the Snot Sheep dissolved in the resulting puddle. He was quite upset about it.

They took the Snot Sheep to Splott to live with the Phlegm People, who said that they'd welcome the Doctor any time he was sick with a cold again. The Mayor of Splott got so excited when he saw the new arrivals, he exploded. They were only the height of a short ruler, but there was a lot of snot in there. Clara was going to need a new dress.

The next day was Monday so Clara was back at work. The children were having a spelling test when one of them, Debbie, raised her hand.

"Yes, Debbie?" acknowledged Clara.

"Miss Oswald, your jacket's movin'," said Debbie, and Clara followed her pointing finger to where her jacket was draped over a chair. It was indeed moving.

"Baa!" her jacket said happily, a tiny, snotty muzzle poking out.

Clara put her head in her hands. "Oh, no..."

Needless to say, there was quite a big explosion. Some screaming. Most of the boys and one of the girls thought it was "Cool". The school was evacuated, and then everybody had the rest of the day off.

All's well that ends well, really.

The End

A/N: This fic is the result of spending too much time with sheep. They have corrupted me. Save yourselves. Thanks for reading! :)