Merry Christmas, Doctor Who, by Lufia Metallium
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. This wonderful series is owned by the BBC. I'm just borrowing him for a while.
The Doctor sat in an over-stuffed corduroy chair, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of cocoa. His blue eyes were alert, flicking back and forth between the dying embers in the red brick fireplace and the tall, colorfully decorated pine tree by the window. A bell rang in the distance, the deep muted sound marking the witching hour.
Almost as soon as the reverb faded, the Doctor could hear a lighter, higher- pitched series of bells whisper in the midnight air. Outside the window, a sleigh-shaped silhouette obscured the light from the street lamps. The Doctor leant forward, setting his mug down on the coffee table beside the chair, and rose. As he stood, a plump figure clothed in red faded into the room, a brown sack hefted over his shoulder.
The Doctor smiled at him. "I thought it was you."
The man returned his smile warmly. "How did you guess?"
The Doctor shrugged. "You always had a flair for giving. Besides, how else could one man visit the sitting room of every single child in just one night?"
"So the Time Lords aren't angry with me?"
The Doctor shook his head. "I'm not here for them. I wanted to thank you. You've done more good for this little planet than I ever will."
"I doubt that," the red-suited man said. He knelt down and opened his sack. He withdrew a dozen or so brightly-wrapped boxes and placed them artfully under the tree. "I just like seeing the looks on the children's faces in the morning."
"You do," the Doctor insisted. "You inspire hope in those children. Because of you and all this," he gestured to the tree and presents, "people believe in generosity, in love, and in helping the less fortunate. Without that hope, people would never have the courage to do what was right or good."
The man looked up at the Doctor, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps," he conceded. "So, my secret's safe?"
The Doctor smiled. "Safe as Christmas."
The man in red grinned, his eyes twinkling. He adjusted one of the presents, then stood up, swinging the sack over his shoulder. "Well," he said, "lots of work to be done." He turned toward the window, a gloved hand drifting toward his belt buckle. It paused just above the silver clasp. He turned back to the Doctor. "Almost forgot." A box wrapped in gold foil and tied with a silver bow appeared in his hand with a turn of the wrist. "You've been good this year, Doctor. Merry Christmas."
The Doctor blinked, staring almost in awe at the package. He took it hesitantly. "Merry Christmas to you as well, Santa- "
But the man in red had gone.
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. This wonderful series is owned by the BBC. I'm just borrowing him for a while.
The Doctor sat in an over-stuffed corduroy chair, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of cocoa. His blue eyes were alert, flicking back and forth between the dying embers in the red brick fireplace and the tall, colorfully decorated pine tree by the window. A bell rang in the distance, the deep muted sound marking the witching hour.
Almost as soon as the reverb faded, the Doctor could hear a lighter, higher- pitched series of bells whisper in the midnight air. Outside the window, a sleigh-shaped silhouette obscured the light from the street lamps. The Doctor leant forward, setting his mug down on the coffee table beside the chair, and rose. As he stood, a plump figure clothed in red faded into the room, a brown sack hefted over his shoulder.
The Doctor smiled at him. "I thought it was you."
The man returned his smile warmly. "How did you guess?"
The Doctor shrugged. "You always had a flair for giving. Besides, how else could one man visit the sitting room of every single child in just one night?"
"So the Time Lords aren't angry with me?"
The Doctor shook his head. "I'm not here for them. I wanted to thank you. You've done more good for this little planet than I ever will."
"I doubt that," the red-suited man said. He knelt down and opened his sack. He withdrew a dozen or so brightly-wrapped boxes and placed them artfully under the tree. "I just like seeing the looks on the children's faces in the morning."
"You do," the Doctor insisted. "You inspire hope in those children. Because of you and all this," he gestured to the tree and presents, "people believe in generosity, in love, and in helping the less fortunate. Without that hope, people would never have the courage to do what was right or good."
The man looked up at the Doctor, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps," he conceded. "So, my secret's safe?"
The Doctor smiled. "Safe as Christmas."
The man in red grinned, his eyes twinkling. He adjusted one of the presents, then stood up, swinging the sack over his shoulder. "Well," he said, "lots of work to be done." He turned toward the window, a gloved hand drifting toward his belt buckle. It paused just above the silver clasp. He turned back to the Doctor. "Almost forgot." A box wrapped in gold foil and tied with a silver bow appeared in his hand with a turn of the wrist. "You've been good this year, Doctor. Merry Christmas."
The Doctor blinked, staring almost in awe at the package. He took it hesitantly. "Merry Christmas to you as well, Santa- "
But the man in red had gone.