Plumbing...Plumbs
A man lay on the floor, white froth dripping from his mouth. Panicked dinner guests dashed about the room, issuing pointless exclamations of dismay. Rain pounded against the windows, adding to the chaos of the night.
And the door flew open, a man sweeping into the house, grinning with anticipation.
"I'm the Doctor," he announced, "And I'm here to help."
A thunderclap punctuated this declaration.
All around the room heads turned, bedlam turning into silence, everyone staring at the strange man.
Donna came bursting into the room. She skidded to a halt before the gaze of a dozen eyes.
"Uh…Hullo." Donna gave a small wave before heading over to the Doctor. Still aware of the eyes, she harshly whispered to him out of the side of her mouth, "If you're gonna go busting into random doorways, the least you could do is TELL ME!"
But the Doctor's attention was riveted by the dead person. He put a hand out to cut off Donna's tirade and stalked over to the comatose victim. A person was kneeling beside him, hand on his neck. He looked up at the Doctor's approach. "I'm afraid there's not much left for you to do, doctor- he's dead." He stood up and gestured somewhat helplessly. "I'd only just met him."
The Doctor crouched down alongside the body and put on his glasses. Examining the head he sniffed at the flecks of foam lining the man's mouth. "Hmm…that shouldn't be there…" he mumbled, his eyes lighting up.
A rather heavy-set man pushed his way through the crowd of people watching the Doctor. "Excuse me there, good sir, but I rather think this is a matter for the bobbies now. That man was murdered!" He puffed up importantly at this declaration.
The Doctor stood up and flashed the psychic paper. "Detective Inspector Bishop- Scotland Yard."
Behind him, Donna cleared her throat rather loudly.
The Doctor half-turned back towards her. "Ah yes, and this is my…um…associate." He rubbed his upper lip and turned back to the man expectantly.
"Hang on," someone called out from the crowd, "You're a doctor and a detective?"
"That's right," said the Doctor, spinning to meet the new voice. He dipped his head to the side. "Actually, I'm double-certified in criminology and law. Able to catch the bad guys and put them away, ha ha!"
His joke was met with stony silence. Behind him, Donna let out a derisive laugh.
"Okay," the Doctor said, raising his eyebrows. He switched tactics. "Can anyone tell me why you believe this man was murdered?" He put his hands behind his back authoritatively.
The heavy-set man clapped a hand down on the Doctor's shoulder. Donna snickered. The Doctor looked at the hand as though it was a dead fish.
But the man's enthusiasm could not be dampened. "Someone ran into the party," he said, gesturing excitedly, "Just bloomin barged in, and dragged poor Harry there into the back room. Was gone before we could even blink. Next thing you know, poor Harry comes staggering out, coughing up a storm, and drops to the floor…dead." He said the word 'dead' with some thrill.
The Doctor started heading towards the back room.
"Wait!" An old woman came running up. She stepped in front of the Doctor. Her head came up to his stomach. "You can't go in there- we've had a plumber in and he said no one was to go in there." The Doctor stepped sideways. She shadowed his move. "The pipes are leaking gas or something. No one's to go in there!" Again the Doctor tried to move around her, again she blocked him. "The plumber's coming in tomorrow…YOU WILL WAIT UNTIL THEN." She rose to her full five feet and pushed a finger in the Doctor's chest.
He stepped back, slightly dazed. Then his face brightened. "Funny you should mention it, but I just happen to plumb…plumbs. In my spare time." The Doctor scratched the back of his head.
Everyone looked at him.
Donna rolled her eyes.
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The door slammed shut behind the Doctor and Donna. A gust of wind pelted them with rain.
The Doctor looked slightly shocked.
"Someone got kicked out of a party," Donna said in a sing-song voice. She jabbed the Doctor in the arm. "Next time let me be something! We might have gotten away with it."
The Doctor grimaced and looked at her. "Bit much, huh?"
Donna held her thumb and pointer finger up. "Just a bit, yeah."
With a sigh, the Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking away from the house. "Fine," he called over his shoulder, "You can be the plumber next time."
Donna choked slightly and ran after him. "Not on your life, Spaceman. Next time I'm the detective!"
I'm just waiting for a Doctor Who episode where someone questions the authority of the Doctor's psychic paper. You know it's gotta happen sometime!
