Okay so first Doctor Who fanfiction, so sorry if it's quite... sucky. Believe it or not , I first came up with an idea for this story when I saw an advert for a foot massager which said in small print' If you experience any medical problems, consult your doctor' And it just made me think... It's actually longer than I expected, which is good? I actually have no idea where this will end up going but oh well. I had fun writing this and fun reviewing it (I was watching Supernatural when I posted this)
Either way, here we go...
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Doctor Who, just my OC thank you very much :)
"So tell me, Miss Rivers, for how long have you been experiencing these... hallucinations."
I sighed deeply and closed my eyes, leaning back against the plush oval pillow.
"Since... I got back from the war. They always appear. Fallen friends, enemies I've only caught a glimpse of, sometimes even my superior officer" I explained, trying to ignore the scratching off my therapist's pen on her tiny reporter's notepad.
"I see... and do these visions ever say anything to you?"
"Sometimes… if I ever feel… suicidal, I can hear my friend's voices telling me not to quit and my superiors telling me to man up." I replied, remembering my head sergeants piercing voice.
"Thank you for your time, Miss Rivers, perhaps it would be best if you left now and had a rest. I might be able to issue you some pills, but in the meantime, take some aspirin if you feel sick or dizzy." She informed me, packing away her little notebook away.
"Thank you, doctor" I said.
I swung my long legs off the sofa and sat up, rubbing my neck and stretching in a rather cat like way.
"And if you experience any problems with time travel, please consult the Doctor."
Huh? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
"Um, don't you mean consult my Doctor?" I asked
"Yes, that's what I said. Consult your Doctor if you experience any pain or nausea whilst seeing these hallucinations." She said in her clipped voice, tucking away her belongings into a burnt orange briefcase.
"Oh I could've sworn you said something else." I muttered, swinging my backpack wildly with one hand as I put it on, ignoring her skeptical look.
"Either way, goodbye Doctor Stella, I'll see you next time." I called out, ambling out the door leisurely.
Now that's over, maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Miriam Rivers and I have one arm. Perhaps that's not the best way to introduce myself but oh well. I served in the beautiful country of Great Britain's army for five years, starting at the young age of twenty-three. I trained hard and hard, pushing myself way past my limit, and eventually I was deployed to Afghanistan. I was there for quite a long while, that was until some bastard left us a little surprise in the form of a bomb. One big boom later, I'm left armless and scarred, with half of my comrades dead and the rest of them scared shitless of war.
I've only actually been in Britain for around a month now; I was too scared to return home, my mother would have had a heart attack at my one arm, so I spent a few years in my family's native country of Sweden. Eventually, my usually kind lesbian aunties got tired of me hiding with them and kicked me on the nearest plane back home. Although, I still haven't moved away from London, my family luckily lives in Somerset so no chance of seeing them here. I haven't technically been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder but as you have probably already deducted, I do suffer from hallucinations. Fun.
Now, let's go back to my charming walk through London, shall we?
I walked through the streets of London, passing various hobos as I travelled on the stuffy subway. I hate going on the subway, I always have since when I went to London when I was younger and I got stuck next to a man who farted throughout the entire journey and smelt like he'd bathed in shit instead of water. Either way, I was glad to finally get of the stupid train and return to the above ground.
I sat on the mossy wooden bench next to the bus station and pulled out my mobile phone. I wasn't exactly a very technical person so i didn't have a fancy-pancy Iphone or android, I did have a good old HTC which could barely get Wi-Fi. I honestly was not expecting it to buzz angrily so I almost dropped it onto the street but my thigh-gap-less thighs saved my phone from its almost imminent death. I checked it moodily and found out that the text was from my sister. How strange. To be honest, I thought she thought I was still in Sweden. The text read:
PHONE MUM AND DAD, THEIR WORREID SICK U BITTCH :(
I sighed and shook my head at my sister's immaturity, and her bad spelling, and attempted to call them. It rang and rang before I got an automated female voice say: You do not have enough credit to make this call.
Well shit. Now I have to find a phone box or something. I jumped up from my seat on the bench, a snot nosed brat immediately claiming my place, and I headed off to look for one. I don't know how I achieved it, but I somehow managed to find myself in a dirty street, with chavvy mums smoking fags and thirteen year old boys who think they're hard and badasss. Gre-ay-et.
Releasing yet another depressing sigh, I strolled down the avenue until I was stopped by a giant blue box. Sweet. Wait a minute, what was that writing on the top of the door? Ohh, so it's a Police Phone Booth. Surely they don't sue those things anymore, I'm sure no-one will mind if I use it a second. I walked over to it and tried to swing the door open causally but it was locked bummer. I couldn't hear any voices, perhaps if I knocked, someone would answer? Yeah, that's what I'll do!
I banged loudly on the door and yelled at the person inside.
"Come on, get your ass outta there, some of us gotta make important phone calls." I yelled banging continually into the door swung over. A man opened it and I stared at him. He wore a brown suit of sorts, reminiscent of my father outfits, a bow tie, hair that was almost in a quiff and a big grin.
"Sorry, we're not in and we don't want to buy some girl scout cookies so bye." He said attempting to shut the door.
"Hey wait a second buddy; I wanna make a phone call."
He stopped shutting the door, and held it open and squinted at me, pulling his suity blazer down.
"You have pointy nose y'know, it's quite noticeable." He said and I glared angrily at him and stroked my nose.
"Leave my nose alone, plus you can't say much Mr I-wear-a-bowtie-cuz-I'm-better-than-you. Plus, you have a big chin."
"But bowties are cool!" He protested, after twirling around in circle and straightening it up. "And my chin is a rather attractive chin, if I do say so myself."
"Sure whatever you say, can I please make my phone call now?" I asked, tapping my foot impatiently.
"Ah well, here's the thing, we don't exactly have a phone in here, the old girl doesn't like them very much, but there's a great phone booth behind me! He said happily, pointing around the side of his box. "Should work like a charm for you, what with your pointy nose and all."
I scowled angrily; I so do not have a pointy nose, and then grudgingly nodded at him in thanks and gave him a slight wave with my one hand. "Sure mate, thanks for the tip."
After a particularly long phone call, involving me holding the phone in my mouth whilst punching in the numbers with my only hand, I finally got to leave the tight cramped space of the phone booth. But then, as I started to walk towards the nearest bus stop, I noticed something, where had that weird guy with the 'attractive' chin and bow tie gone? And more importantly, where did the Police phone booth go? I wondered, looking around. I'm pretty sure these things don't just disappear. Maybe it was one of the hallucinations. With a shrug of my shoulders, I wandered off down the street whistling then. Maybe my hallucinations aren't just dead people after all.
So what did you guys think, to continue or to not continue? You decide. Please read and review for me please and give me some feedback about the Doctors first appearance, I'm still really unsure whether or not I portrayed him right or not? Thanks for reading!