The Doctor is depressed from losing yet another companion. Who better to help him with his problems than Silence Dogood?
This is my first Doctor Who attempt. I hope you like it. It's goanna be a two-part story.
This is the tenth doctor by the way. And it is right after he leaves Martha but before the Titanic Christmas episode. Pretend instead of the ship crashing into the TARDIS when he walks in he goes somewhere first.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Doctor, Doctor Who, or BBC.
The hum of the TARDIS creaked until the sound vanished all together. Soon everything became still. Everything became quiet. Silence. His world was silent. He was alone once more. He didn't even know where he was.
The spiky styled, brunette hair moved with the man's head as he looked towards the monitor. The dark outline of brick was all he saw. He turned a gage to get a different view. The same image appeared on the other two sides of his ship, including the door, but on the third side there was a dark, wooden door. Of course the door would be on the side opposite to the TARDIS' door. He rolled his eyes, annoyed.
He walked slowly over to the controls, and laid his hands on the metal handle of the lever. He should leave this place, wherever or whenever he was. He didn't want to be around anything or anyone. Maybe he'd just go float around in space for a few hours to collect his thoughts.
No he needed to do something. He had to keep moving. He needed to find something that could keep him occupied until he could find someone else to befriend. Someone else to loose. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind.
He sighed and looked back at the monitor. But what could he do in a closet?
Maybe he should search for excitement somewhere else. Like Yugon, the planet where the men had three heads and the women four arms. Such a lovely people that lot. Or maybe he'd visit his old friend Peter. Perhaps not. He did have a tight schedule, running a religion and all. Perhaps go on a tour of the midnight planet. He'd always wanted to. He looked over at the screen.
The door was a normal wooden door. There was bound to be something behind it. He looked back at his controls.
"Aw, the heck with it," he shouted as he slammed the lever down, and the grinding buzz started up.
When the TARDIS landed the blue doors were facing the wooden one.
The Doctor slowly pulled open the TARDIS doors. He didn't know what lay beyond that door. He moved his hand, finding the antique metal handle to go down opening the unlocked door. Slowly he pushed his head out of the door way and peeked around. Seeing no one around he closed the TARDIS doors and the wooden door behind him, then took a few steps towards the middle of the room.
The room was brick, like the walls that had encased his ship, with a wooden floor. Wooden chairs were put on a green oval rug of to the right side of the room. A small stone fireplace heated the area. In the corner to his right a short bed was accompanied by a wooden nightstand. An unlit candle sat on top of the small table. On the wall next to the bed a window let the morning light shine in. He was on the second or third floor judging by the view of the rooftops he saw through the window. A wardrobe's, on the other side of the room, door was left ajar leaving the brown sleeve of an overcoat sticking out.
"Mid-1760's," he whispered under his breath. "The colonies by the look of it."
The room did not have the usual smell of horse that typical colonial homes had. Instead it smelled more like perfume. French, perhaps German in origin.
He walked over to the old-fashioned desk that had papers sprawled over it. On top was a printed newspaper dated May 4, 1766. Underneath was a bold headline but he ignored it. He knew it would be something that had to do with the tax increase. He wasn't interested in the boring part of politics at the moment. He moved on to another paper.
It was a letter. Written in a woman's handwriting and scented, though the smell was not as appealing as the aroma that filled the room. He pulled out his glasses and read the letter. It was signed by a woman named Cosette.
"A thank you letter, from a French girl," he said out loud to no one.
He looked down at the other papers. More letters handwritten and scented, signed by more French women. Elice, Renee, Patrice, the list went on.
Among the mess there were tax reports and a business log. He read through them as well. He was looking through a trade agreement when something next to the door, which led to some unknown place, caught his eye. It was a piece of paper crumpled up into a ball, and by its state had been stepped on and shoved forgotten up against the wall's edge.
He walked over and picked it up, unwrinkling it as best as he could. He stretched his arms out to get a better view of the scribbled lines. They formed a design, the blueprints to what seemed to be a glass armonica.
Suddenly the doorknob of the door he was standing a few feet in front of started rattling as the person on the other side had trouble opening it. As it finally swung open the Doctor turned his puzzled face away from the paper in his extended arms to look at the newcomer.
"Confounded door… must fix it one of these days," a voice mumbled as he entered the room.
The Doctor's eyes widened.
The short, slightly older gentleman who had walked in, eyes glued to a paper he was reading in his hand, stopped when he saw the converse sneakers and pin-stripped pants of the Time Lord blocking his path to the desk. He slowly looked up, his long graying hair falling behind his shoulders as he did so. The Doctor kept his surprise look.
Standing before him was one of United States founding fathers.
One of the most credited inventors in Earth's history.
Standing before him was Benjamin Franklin.
And he was stark naked.
A/N: The second part will be up soon.
Thanks for reading!