Of Fangirls and Screwdrivers—The Training Begins
He builds a new screwdriver, of course. Adds a few new settings, too. So no huge loss. And eventually, after a few more adventures, he begins to dismiss it as a fluke. Just two insane girls. Insane was in, at that point, right?
He should have known better.
The next time it happened was London, 2011.
The redhead—Lena, was it? (Thank god for semi-photographic memories.)
Anyway, the redhead shows up with her family, this time with no black-haired girl (Nadine, he remembers) in tow.
It's Martha who first notices her, and tries to physically drag him back to the TARDIS, which doesn't work, of course.
It might have been fine, if he didn't still kinda want his screwdriver back. This want drove him to call out her name, waving her over to the café where he and Martha had been sitting, drinking tea.
When she sees them, her eyes go wide, and she walks over.
"Um…hi."
"Hello. I'm the Doctor, and this is—"
"Martha, I know."
She turns to Martha and holds out her hand, prim and proper.
"Nice to meet you. Normally I'd squeal and hug you, but you have my respect, so I'll resist the urge."
Now it's Martha's turn to look wide-eyed.
"A polite fangirl. Never thought I'd see the day." She hisses at him.
"Now," Lena says, turning to him, "What'd you need?"
Her American accent comes on thick now that she says more than one word, and up close they can see her vibrating on the spot, radiating energy.
"My screwdriver. You still have it."
"Indeed I do, never leave home without it, so to say."
He holds out his hand and she looks at it curiously, head cocked.
"Can I have it back please?"
"No."
Martha cringes in anticipation of the explosion about to happen.
"No! What do you mean no! That screwdriver is-well, never mind what it is, I need it back. Now."
She grins, an accomplishment in itself.
"No can do. See, I don't have it with me right now."
Lena giggles upon seeing the twin dumbfounded looks cast her way.
"I left it with Nadine, didn't want to have to bring it through customs, that'd cause lots of awkward questions. We thought about shipping it over, but realized it would likely be scanned, so she's just keeping an eye on it for me."
"That's actually quite smart."
The Doctor sends Martha a look saying 'quiet'. Or it might have been 'I really need another cup of tea', very hard to tell with the Doctor.
She holds out her hand again, this time to the Doctor.
"Lovely to see you again, but I have to go, I'm supposed to meet my parents for crepes in half an hour, and I want to walk instead of taking the tube."
She tosses a scrap of paper on the table.
"Email address. I have a feeling there'll be some questions after this encounter.'
She stalks off, and by the time Martha and the Doctor are done realigning their own personal realities (or whatever it is they took so much time doing), the tea had gone cold.
Bloody perfect.
