This was not on my list of things to write, however, deathly-shipper wrote me a lovely piece for my Doctor-Companion role swap AU (on their AO3 account under DeathShipper) and I started thinking about another kiss the Tenth Doctor received and this is the result of that.
David Tennant as the plucky companion gets his Scottish accent because I said so. Also, some of my shipper side came out as I was writing this, but it's not super noticeable so you can read them as strictly platonic.
A murder, a mystery, and Agatha Christie - well, at least John was enjoying himself. The Doctor worried every so often that between the disasters they faced and the utter ridiculousness of her life, he'd one day get fed up with her and walk off.
But he faced this challenge as he had faced all of them so far - headfirst and with enough enthusiasm for both of them (which was necessary, given that she was quickly losing her patience with these people - all of whom she was certain were lying at least a little bit, none of whom believed she could actually be a policewoman). Not that she could blame him. It was Agatha Christie, after all.
"Come on, Agatha," John encouraged. "What would Miss Marple do? She would have probably overheard something vital by now because the murderer just thinks she's a harmless old lady."
"Clever idea," Agatha said thoughtfully. The Doctor smiled at John as she took a sip of her drink. "Miss Marple, who writes those?"
"Copyright, John Smith," the Doctor said, nodding towards John. When he shot her an astonished look, she shrugged and said, "What? Can't I look after my companion?"
John rolled his eyes fondly at her and turned back to Agatha. "Don't copyright me. Well, if you want to, we can split it - John David Smith, there are too many John Smith's in the world, don't want to get things mixed up."
"John."
"What, you were the one who said-"
"John," the Doctor repeated, her hand placed over her chest. "Something is inhibiting my enzymes."
Without warning, she let out a loud cry of pain and jerked forward, nearly doubling over on herself as her whole body convulsed. "I've been poisoned!"
In an instant, John and Agatha were out of their seats and at her side.
"What do we do?" John yelled, turning from Agatha to the Doctor and back again. "What do we do?!" His hands fluttered about, going from holding her hand as she thrashed and twitched to holding her as she nearly climbed out of her chair in desperation as her muscles spasmed. The Doctor grabbed his shoulder and held it so tightly he nearly cried out, but he grabbed her hand with his own and held on to it as tightly as he could.
"Bitter almonds, it's cyanide," Agatha declared as she smelled the Doctor's drink, a horrified expression on her face. "Sparkling cyanide."
In any other circumstance the Doctor would have paused to laugh at the unintentional reference, but she nearly flew out of her seat, using John's shoulder to propel herself forwards and out of the room, knocking over a lamp as she did so. She threw open the door and burst into the kitchen on unsteady legs - and heels, damn them - and nearly smacked into the wall, but managed to stagger forwards and grab onto the first person she saw - the footman, Davenport.
"Ginger beer!" She yelled, pulling on his coat. When he merely gaped at her, she groaned loudly, let him go and raced towards the shelves. She seized the bottle she needed as soon as she saw it, knocking over everything else on the shelf as well.
John and Agatha ran into the room just in time to see her take a drink of the ginger beer and start pouring the rest out all over herself, splashing it onto her dress and hair. John hovered anxiously, his hands reaching out as though to hold her and looking more worried than he ever had (and wasn't that saying something), while Agatha regrettably had to say, "I'm an expert in poisons, Doctor! There's no cure, it's fatal!"
The Doctor spat out her mouthful of ginger beer and backed into the table, using it to hold herself up. "Not for me! I can stimulate the inhibited enzymes into reversal! Get me protein!"
John spun towards the countertop, pushing past Agatha and grabbing a jar of walnuts. "Here!"
He nearly shoved them into the Doctor's hands and watched desperately as she poured several walnuts into her mouth. As she chewed and did her best to not choke, she started miming a salt shaker, unable to speak around the walnuts.
"I don't know what that means - do it like charades! How many words?" John shouted, his Scottish accent thickening as his panic grew. He ran his hands through his hair and made it even spikier. The Doctor held up one finger. "One word? Shake - milkshake - milk?" The Doctor shot him a dirty look. "Okay, not milk, then - what does 'shake' mean? Cocktail shake? A cocktail shake? Really?"
"Are you joking?!" The Doctor screamed at him once she had forced down enough walnuts to speak clearly.
"You're not being helpful!"
"I'm a little busy trying not to die, John!"
"What do you need, Doctor?" Agatha yelled, ignoring the bickering.
"Something salty!" The Doctor snapped, continuing to mime a salt shaker even as she started to hyperventilate.
John and Agatha raced back to the counter and John returned with a bag. "How's this?"
"What is it?"
"Salt!"
"Too salty!'
"'Too salty'?" John repeated incredulously, throwing the bag onto the table. Agatha returned with a jar. The Doctor snatched it and downed the contents with little thought.
"What are those?" John asked her.
"Anchovies," Agatha answered. They both stared as the Doctor, a piece of anchovy hanging from the corner of her mouth, turned and held her hands around her head, gesturing wildly.
"What is this?" John demanded, mimicking her gestures. "A song? I don't know - Camptown Races!"
"Camptown Races?" The Doctor shrieked, reaching new levels of shrill.
"How should I know what this means?!" John mimicked her gestures once more.
"It's a shock! A shock! I need a shock!"
"Like what, Doctor?" Agatha cried, grabbing the other woman's arm as she doubled over once more.
"I have an idea-" John started, and when the Doctor looked up at him he looked nearly out of his mind. "But I don't know if- well, you might not like it, but -"
"John, if you tell me what you're thinking it won't be a shock."
"Alright, then." John reached out and pulled the Doctor up. "Big shock, coming up."
Then he surged forward and kissed her.
He may as well have given her an electrical shock because it had the same effect as one. The Doctor's hands raised to his sides then lowered to her own again, and her eyes remained wide open even as his shut.
He was remarkably gentle despite the circumstances and his panic, she noticed; his hands cupped the back of her head, tilting her head up while he leaned down, keeping her lips pressed to his but not forcing her into it. She had barely even staggered as he grabbed and held her against him.
The kiss lasted about five seconds before John released her. She reeled back a few steps and threw her head back. A cloud of grey smoke was expelled from her mouth and dispersed into the air. The Doctor took one more step backward and sucked in a huge breath, finally able to breathe easily. She shook her head and gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. God, she hadn't felt so good in ages!
"Detox," she said to John, who stood back next to Agatha against the counter, staring at her with huge eyes. "Brilliant! Must do that more often."
John blinked at her and she realized what that must have sounded like.
"The detox," she added hastily, a bit of heat rising to her cheeks. John nodded, still staring at her, and unless she was seeing things, he was blushing a bit as well.
"You're alright, then?" John asked hesitantly.
The Doctor smiled reassuringly at him and said, "Thanks to you two." She looked around at the kitchen and the mess and winced. "Sorry about the kitchen."
"No need to worry," one of the cooks dared to say from where the servants had huddled together to watch the spectacle. "We'll put it all to right soon enough."
The Doctor nodded, then looked down at her ruined dress. "And this was one of my favourites, too." She sighed.
"Oh, don't go and complain about your dress when you just nearly died," John groaned. He ran a hand through his hair and slumped back against the counter, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.
"It was vintage! Authentic! And it was gorgeous!" She snapped back. She took a breath. "But you're right - and more importantly, I've just come up with a way to weed out the killer!" She beamed at the author and her companion before bounding out of the kitchen, grabbing John's arm and dragging him along with her.
He followed her willingly, sighing once more in relief as the Doctor returned to her normal antics.
"God, imagine if cyanide poisoning had been what got me this time," the Doctor said as she pulled him along. "How shaming would that have been?"