Thank my magnificent Merida hair for this one. It nearly went down the drain this morning!
Just an Average Day in 1969
It had been a long day already, and it wasn't over yet.
Fiddling with her keys and seeking out the one for the flat they'd rented, Martha jammed the TARDIS key into the lock once and dropped the keys twice before managing to get inside. As soon as she had kicked the door shut behind her, she fell halfway onto the kitchen counter, spilling groceries out. A can of Vienna sausages rolled out and along the counter, a container of cold cream following, and Martha sighed, checking the eggs for any damage. She began to shuffle the perishables into the refrigerator. "Doctor? Are you here?" she shouted. No reply.
Martha continued to put the groceries away. He'd probably gone off to run around with his "timey-wimey detector" and frighten ordinary people.
Then, from the direction of the bedrooms, came the sound of a thud, and Martha suddenly realized that she'd heard the water running. Suddenly panicking—had the Doctor fallen in the shower?—Martha ran towards the bedroom and burst into the bathroom. What she saw was not what she expected.
The Doctor, fully dressed, but without his suit jacket, his tie hanging down, washing his hair in the sink.
Martha could think of only one thing to say.
"Umm…"
"Oh! Martha. Hello!" the Doctor said, turning slightly to look at her (and getting water in his eye in the process.) "I was just examining the sink… and then thought… why not, I might as well…" But Martha could see the tell-tale blush spreading across the bridge of his nose.
"You were trying to get something out that you'd dropped down the sink," Martha realized. "And then your head got stuck." The Doctor's shoulders drooped.
"Yup." Martha laughed.
"Come on, let's have you." She turned the water off—the Doctor yelping as it went cold on the back of his neck just before she shut off the cold as well—and then maneuvered his head around the faucet as gently as she could. It wasn't very well. She poked him in the eye at least once ("Ow! Martha, that hurt!"), and put her finger in his ear ("Now that's just mean!") at least four times before she managed to get him out. "You don't have to stick your fingers down the drain, Doctor," she coached him. "It might be in the trap."
"I knew that," the Doctor said. She ignored it. Opening the cabinet under the sink, she pulled everything (what was the salad dressing doing in the bathroom?!) out, grabbed the trash can to catch the drips, and began to remove the trap. She pulled out the u-shaped piece and handed into the Doctor.
"There you are. You didn't have to get your head stuck in a sink for that," she said. The Doctor began to blush again, but was silent, worming his missing piece out of the trap. Martha gazed at it in concern. "Will that still work? It looks pretty damp."
"It'll work," the Doctor said. Martha smiled.
"I'm going to go make dinner," she said, ruffling his still-damp hair, ignoring his protests. She really did love the Doctor, but he wasn't half an idiot sometimes.
"Martha?" She turned back. The Doctor sounded hesitant. "Thank you." Martha smiled and went on to get dinner.