Rule 114 - Stay Out Of The Doctor's Pockets
1.
They were out watching the fireworks on Quintillion Six, sitting together legs swinging on a rock waiting for the show to begin.
"You know, Pond," the Doctor said, "these aren't your average Earth fireworks. They're actually shot down towards the planet's surface from an extremely low orbiting moon. The effect is quite dramatic."
Amy grinned. "They're coming right at you?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes," he said, clearly settling into lecture mode. "Although of course, the geothermal properties of the planet's atmosphere make it impossible for the..." He oomphed as Amy jostled him solidly in the ribs with her elbow.
"Don't destroy the magic of it for me. I want to experience it without knowing for sure that it's perfectly safe, okay? More fun that way." she said.
"Fine, fine, Pond. Whatever you need." He smiled and leaned back on his elbows, peering up into the darkening sky.
Finally the show started, and even the Doctor had to admit that the sight of a firework coming down from far up in the sky and exploding overhead was both beautiful and utterly alarming. The crowd around them ooohed, aaahed, and ducked appreciatively.
Amy, dressed as always in the shortest allowable skirt, shivered as a cool breeze picked up. She burrowed in closer to the Doctor, her head nuzzled into his shoulder.
"Here," he said, shrugging off his tweed jacket. "Wear this."
Amy snuggled into it happily, breathing in the jacket's inimitably great smell - tweed and cloves and a tiny bit of something akin to motor oil and something she couldn't identify at all. Space? Does space have a smell? Anyways, it was a happy smell and she was hit with a wave of contentment. She crammed her hands deep into its pockets, and then leapt to her feet with a shriek.
"What?" the Doctor cried, hopping to his feet with sonic in hand and glancing around them in a wide circle. "What happened?"
"Something bit me! In your pocket!"
"Shhhh!" said a voice from behind them. "Get down! You're ruining the view!"
The Doctor pulled Amy back down to the rock face. "Amy, quiet down," he murmured in a low voice. "You're going to start a riot. I absolutely promise you that nothing in my pocket is capable of biting you."
Amy leaned over and poked him in the chest. "I know a bite when I feel one, Mister. What have you got in there, a gerbil?"
The Doctor pointedly ignored her and stared up at the sky. "Watch the show, Amy."
"You do! You do have some kind of rodent in there!"
He turned and gazed at her steadily. "Can we just put a pin in this for now? Please hush up." He kept eye contact with her for a few moments to make sure she heard him. Finally she flopped down beside him (this time with her hands nowhere near the jacket) and tried to enjoy the show. Which wasn't easy thinking about what might be climbing around inside her borrowed coat.
2.
"Ok, Doctor," Amy said a few hours later as they unlocked the door of the TARDIS and stumbled in. "Spill it."
He blinked at her innocently. "Spill what?"
"What," she said menacingly, "is living in your coat?"
"Amy, Amy, Amy..." he put on his best persecuted look. "Nothing."
"So you won't mind if I have a look then?"
"Be my guest! Well you already are my guest," he said, stopping to consider that for a moment. "That doesn't make any sense, really. But help yourself! Mi jacket es su jacket, as they say," the Doctor called as he disappeared into the library.
Undeterred, Amy plopped down cross-legged on the console room floor and tentatively reached into the pocket on the left. At first the usual things one might expect - well the usual things for a Time Lord, maybe - came out.
Two older, nonfunctioning models of the sonic screw driver.
A jammy dodger or two.
Bubble gum.
Kitchen twine.
Safety scissors.
Batteries. Lots of batteries.
The Doctor wandered out to see how she was doing. "I'm going to start a movie, do you want to join me?" he called.
"Nope," Amy called, "This is way too interesting."
Amy found herself feeling bolder as nothing with teeth emerged and started digging more forcefully.
An umbrella.
A Darth Vader pez dispenser.
One of those weird frisbee things from Tron.
A vial full of sparkling bead-like pollen.
Fourteen handkerchiefs.
Four extra red bow ties.
Clown shoes and a nose.
A small green book entitled "Poisons and You! How to Avoid Them."
A collapsible digging shovel.
"This is getting ridiculous," Amy muttered. "I haven't even gotten to the second pocket yet."
A small bicycle, possibly sized for a monkey.
Three large, interlocking hoops.
One half of the kind of box a magician saws through, with no lady inside.
Something that looked a lot like a mandolin.
A VHS exercise tape.
Allen wrenches of all shapes and sizes, stuck together with a rubber band.
An inflatable bath toy.
Crayons.
Silver polish.
Eleven golf balls, bright yellow.
Two hours later the Doctor returned to find Amy centered in a small clearing surrounded by the most bewildering pile of things.
"Are you still at this?" he asked. "Honestly, Pond. Go to bed."
"I hardly need to," she joked. "I'm sure I'll find a blanket and a pillow in here eventually."
"Yes, well, this is all well and good fun, but I'm afraid I simply have to put an end to this science project of yours," the Doctor replied primly. "You're messing up my filing system quite badly. Organization is important."
Amy blinked up at him for a beat or two.
"You have an organization system for this?"
"Of course! How else do you think one could manage infinite pockets? Everything is alphabetized and sorted into it's own quantum container. Cross indexed and referenced in the central computer and in the sonic." He flopped down on the jump seat. "And that is why I always know where something is when I need it."
"Except for the correct date and time," Amy pointed out.
"Ah! Ah ha." He agreed. "Yes, well, there's no way to store that in a pocket."
Amy rolled her eyes as she stood up, surveying the mess she'd made. She gently picked up the coat with a thumb and forefinger, still a little wary of it, and handed it back to the Doctor. "Here. I give up."
"So you admit you were wrong about wild beasts living in there?" he asked.
"I admit no such thing. But if there is, god knows you would have it indexed under some planet I can't even spell, cross referenced by it's DNA code." She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "Well, good night!"
"Hey!" he called after her rapidly retreating form. "Hey! What about all of this mess?"
Amy gave a quick little wave and blew a kiss as she disappeared down the corridor. Undoubtedly to take a bath or some such nonsense, he thought. Humans and their baths.
He took a moment to survey all of the things in the pile on the floor before picking it up and stuffing it back into the larger of his coat pockets. Indexing system? Cross referencing? As if. It wasn't a complete lie, he had always intended to install that kind of system. Instead he preferred to just reach in wildly and let fate or the universe provide whatever it thought he needed. It had always worked so far.
Except for the rodent, of course. Some mischievous child had once shoved a small animal in his coat, several years ago, and he had never once been able to locate it. There was almost no chance it was still alive, was there? Surely it couldn't have found a food source and somehow survived for two years without ever letting him know it was there? Surely it couldn't have reproduced?
He stopped and pondered it for a moment.
Naaaaaaah, not possible.
Still, he made a mental note to mix a small dose of antibiotics into Amy's morning tea tomorrow. Just in case she really did get a bite.
Better safe than sorry.