"But maybe if I press a few more of these studs – "
"Hugh."
" – then something will happen? But the red wire from the studs – "
"Hugh?"
" – goes to this wonky rubbery thing. What is that, a spleen?"
"Hugh."
"What?"
"That red light's flashing."
Laurie turned, searching the myriad of dials and knobs and buttons and gizmos before settling on the light in question.
"Ah. So it is. What do you want me to do about it?"
Fry sighed. "Well seeing as you're the one who insisted on poking around in all the technical muckery, I thought you might be so kind as to find out what a flashing red light means?"
"Oh, just because I'm the curious one, I have to fix the problem? I haven't the foggiest what that red light means – "
The cavernous chamber jolted, the disconcerting sound of what seemed to be a rather large piece of metal shearing in half resounding somewhere somewhere beneath them.
" – but I'm guessing it has something to do with that."
Fry rubbed his temples exasperatedly. "Can I take you nowhere without risking our lives?"
Laurie rolled his eyes, turning to the console and giving the red light an experimental tap. "Oh, please. Name one other time, I dare you."
Fry pressed his lips together. "Absinthe shots in Stockholm."
"Oh come off it, you know you loved – "
"You insisted on the both of us consuming tumblers of the stuff, Hugh. On the presumption that, and I quote, 'it'll knock you on your arse either way'."
"Hey, you didn't have to listen – "
"Polo in Wales. Dancing atop Buckingham Palace. The Pentagon."
"Alright fine, so I haven't – "
"I could go on."
"I'd rather you didn't. So I haven't always had the best judgment. I don't see how that's gonna help now."
He leaned on the console, and a rather loud but muffled sound caused the floor to shake.
"Oh dear," Laurie said, "That was an explosion."
"Oh for goodness sakes," the Doctor said, shoving Laurie out of the way and beginning to frantically work the console. The latter sprawled on the floor, not entirely sure of what just happened.
"Ah," Fry smiled cordially, stepping toward the Doctor. "I take it you're the owner of this establishment?"
"Yes," the Doctor said, not looking up from his work. "It's my TARDIS and I trying to keep it from exploding, thank you."
Fry rubbed his chin, nodding. "Ah, I see."
The Doctor blinked, as if just noticing something, as he looked up at Fry. "Um... who are you exactly, and how did you get in here?"
"Oh yes, how rude of me. My name is Stephen Fry, and the gentleman with the bruised coccyx is my colleague Hugh Laurie."
Laurie responded by picking himself off the floor and dusting off, nodding and shooting the Doctor a dirty look.
"As for how we got here," Fry continued, "That's a funny story, actually. See, the two of us were purchasing crepes at a rather charming local establishment, and quite out of nowhere this wonky blue box materializes and lands right atop us."
"Unexpected, to say the least," Laurie added.
The Doctor's eyes widened. "Wait... a relative spacial displacement? That... doesn't normally happen with humans."
"Well, perhaps this was a special occasion," suggested Fry.
"Maybe... I don't know how else to explain why I was suddenly hanging from a windowsill in Brighton."
"There, y'see?" Laurie grinned, "All worked out."
"Um, actually no. The entire structure of the TARDIS is on the verge of detonating, which would cause a massive implosion wherever the TARDIS has occupied in the last century." He narrowed his eyes as he brought out his sonic, pulling open a panel. "What exactly did you do?"
Laurie scratched his head, "Can't rightly recall. I was just fiddling around with the dials. Thought I saw an espresso machine somewhere in that mess."
"Also we buggered atop the console, just there," Fry added, pointing nonchalantly.
The Doctor gaped, "You wouldn't..."
Fry chuckled, "Of course not, good man!"
"Or... would we?" Laurie waggled his eyebrows, prompting a sigh of exasperation from the Doctor and a roll of Fry's eyes.
Another rumble. The Doctor wiped sweat from his brow as he rerouted another connection. Despite Laurie's insistence that he had merely "fiddled with some dials", the entirety of the console's wiring was a jumbled mess. He could swear he even glimpsed an empty Jelly Babies wrapper in there.
"Okay," he said, shuffling out from under the console. "I've rigged an emergency reset of the control room's active field, which should stabilize the internal structure long enough for the TARDIS to repair itself. Brace yourself, it may be a bit jarring."
A few moments passed, and the air took on an odd thickness. With a loud "POP", about forty Daleks suddenly materialized in the control room. Laurie found himself sitting atop one's head. Several eyestalks swept to and fro, understandably perplexed.
"So," Laurie rubbed his hands together, grinning ear-to-ear, "who's up for absinthe shots?"