Disclaimer - I own nothing. I am simply a massive fan who glues herself to the telly whenever Sam or Gene appear. Hope you like this fic, it's just a Life On Mars / Doctor Who crossover. Enjoy.
You Saw Nothing
Pacing into A-Division CID, Sam breathed heavily, "not still here, am I?", he thought to himself. Somehow, the car accident turned the Dark Ages into his home. For now. Until he could find out the reason why he was there in the first place, then he could make his way back to 2006. But for now, Dark Ages it had to be.
Swinging the double doors to the office open, he glanced around to see the many gormless coppers dotted around the room, doing everything and anything besides their jobs. Playing cards, drinking Coca-Cola and reading obscene magazines, then opening the pages vertically and raising their eyebrows in surprise. He found Gene kicked back at Ray's desk, his white (well, at least they used to be) loafers resting on a pile of case reports.
"Guv," Sam acknowledged Gene's presence.
"Gladys," Gene in turn acknowledged his.
"Anything going?" Sam inquired, pulling up a plastic chair and lifting his feet onto the table, assuming the same position as Gene.
"Some blokey's in reception arguing with his bird about 'not wanting to get the police involved'. Calls himself John Smith. If I had a tenner for every time I heard that bleedin' name, Gladys…"
"Sounds a bit Camden Market," where had he got that phrase from? Camden Market wasn't fishy. Too much time with Chris, he put it down to, "I'll sort it out, don't want you pulling a hamstring getting off your behind." Sam prepared to heave himself to his feet.
"You know what, Sammy boy? I don't intend to." Gene folded his arms and lolled his head back. As Sam dropped his legs off the table and headed down the corridors, the dank, dark, dingy corridors, he began to hear voices being raised, becoming louder as he approached.
"Look, I told you already, no need…" he heard a Northern male voice say.
"Tough, we're here now, so spit it out…" another voice, female this time, except more-or-less London-y dialect. Opening the door to reception, Sam caught sight of a tall, dark short-haired man waving his arms about frantically towards a shorter, blonder, younger girl. Phyllis looked on from behind her desk and sighed when Sam joined her.
"Giving me a right headache, they are." Phyllis nodded towards them.
"Erm, excuse me, er, there is a fine for wasting police time." Sam folded his arms and furrowed his eyebrows at the couple who ceased arguing when Sam spoke. The man turned to face him, then shot a scowl back at the girl, then back to Sam.
"Sorry, officer—
"Detective Inspector Tyler."
"Yes, er, pardon me, DI Tyler," he looked at the girl, "ooh, look Rose, another one of your bloody Tyler lot," then returned to face Sam, with a bright beaming smile across his face, "I'm here to report, a, er, lost jacket. Black leather, very much like yours," the man grinned animatedly. Why he looked so jolly only a split second after his dispute with the girl, Sam couldn't figure.
"Right then, if, er, you could follow me please, I'll show you to Lost and Found." Sam raised his eyebrows at Phyllis, then turned and ushered them through the door behind him. As they walked, the man started conversation.
"The name's John. John Smith. And this is Rose Tyler. Hey, you two might be related!" The man giggled, but was promptly quietened by a sharp jab in the stomach by the girl. Sam could hear the man squeal in pain and saw him through the corner of his eye, rubbing his side and frowning at her. Sam thought it best not to comment that he knew not of any relation named Rose.
Opening the grubby door to Lost and Found and peering inside, Sam glimpsed Gene with a ruffled criminal in his clenched hands, barged up against a wall. Stepping inside and allowing John and Rose to follow, Sam coughed, grabbing Gene's attention.
"Don't mind us, Guv. Just looking for a lost jacket. Carry on." Sam glanced down at his feet, feeling a bit awkward.
Gene noticed an idiotic man grinning from ear to ear standing tall behind Sam, followed by a blonde plonk. Uninterested, Gene resumed kicking in the nonce.
"Sam rummaged through the many boxes on the many shelves, twitching every time he heard the slam of the criminal against the four walls, screaming that he was innocent. Seemed like Gene was back into work-mode, making sure he got a confession out of an innocent person.
John fixed his eyes on a pile of leather on the bottom shelf, cried "Eureka!" and crouched to retrieve the jacket. He patted it down and gasped with joy as he reached inside a pocket and retrieved a long, tube-shaped object with a blue bulb on the end.
"Er, yeah, that puzzled Phyllis a bit when she saw it, so she left it in there." Sam scratched the back of his neck.
"Thanks a lot, DI Tyler. Wait a minute, don't I know you from somewhere?" John creased his forehead in confusion.
"I don't believe so, Mr Smith."
"You sure?" Mr Smith turned to Rose and whispered, "there's gotta be a reason why I haven't told him my name yet," yet failed to prevent Sam from hearing.
Sorry the plot bunny's escaped me, I'll write more soon, please R&R!