A/N: Hello! First of all, I'd like to apologise for the shorter chapter, I've had a rough week, but still wanted to get something up for you all.
Secondly, I haven't properly edited/proofread this, so if there are any spelling/grammar errors, please tell me so I can fix them!
Thirdly, you will probably notice that I have cut/rewritten a fair bit of the dialogue for this chapter (and forthcoming chapters), more so than usual. There's several reasons for this, including but not limited to: the Doctor being rude/ignorant to point where he was OOC (in my opinion); overt racism that doesn't seem to be historically accurate from the research I have done; praising of a certain author now known for being transphobic; and other somewhat questionable lines.
With all that said, I hope you enjoy.
"Right Martha, where d'you wanna go first? Past or future?" the Doctor asked.
Martha shrugged. "Erm, I don't know." She turned to Ryan. "Where did you go, for your first trip?"
"Future, saw the Earth get burnt up," Ryan replied.
"Sounds cheerful. Past then, seeing as you went to the future." She turned back to the Doctor, who was fiddling with various buttons and dials. "But how do you travel in time and what makes it go?"
"Oh, it's um, very long and complicated. Very, very long and very complicated." He grinned. "Also, why take all the fun and mystery out of it? Hold on tight!"
Ryan grabbed onto a nearby railing, whereas the Doctor and Martha held onto the console. The TARDIS gave one last violent shudder as they landed, causing Martha to fall to the grating.
"You alright?" Ryan asked her, as she brushed herself off.
"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," Martha replied. "Bloody hell, d'you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"
"Yes, and I failed," the Doctor said, as he threw on his trench coat. He backed up against the TARDIS door. "Outside this door… brave new world."
"Where are we?"
Ryan nudged her as the Doctor opened the door. "Why don't you find out?"
Martha grinned and walked down the ramp, and out the door, Ryan following a couple of steps behind her.
"Oh, you're kidding me," Martha exclaimed as the Doctor closed the door behind them. They had landed in a narrow street, lined with what Ryan supposed were Tudor-era houses. It seemed to be the evening, as it was dark but there were still lots of people milling about, both adults and children alike.
"You're so kidding me," Martha continued. "Oh my god. We did it! We travelled in time. Where are we? No, sorry, gotta get used to this, whole new language. When are we?"
"Mind out!" the Doctor suddenly said, pulling Ryan and Martha back as a man from above called "gardez-loo" and the contents of his bucket fell in front of him. The Doctor grimaced. "Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that."
"I've seen worse, I've worked the late night-shift in A&E," Martha said. "But are we safe?" she asked as Ryan and the Doctor started to walk off. They turned back to her. "I mean, can we move around and stuff?"
Ryan frowned. "Yeah, why wouldn't we?"
"Like in those films, you step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race."
"Why a butterfly?"
"Chaos theory," the Doctor quickly (and unhelpfully) replied. "And Martha, you don't need to worry about that, for the most part, time will compensate around it. Although, if it makes you feel better, don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?"
He tilted his head down the street, indicating that Ryan and Martha should follow him.
"We in the Tudor times?" Ryan asked the Doctor. "Houses look kinda Tudor-y."
The Doctor playfully nudged Ryan. "Yep, nice one. Elizabethan period, if you want to be more specific."
Martha was still concerned. "Yeah, but what if, I dunno, what if I kill my grandfather?"
"Are you planning to?" the Doctor questioned.
"No!" Martha exclaimed.
"Well then."
"And this is London?" Martha asked, incredulously.
"Think so, Elizabethan, 'round about, erm, ooh, 1599."
"Oh, but hold on, am I am alright?" The Doctor and Ryan stopped again and turned to look at Martha. "I'm not going to get carted off as a slave, am I?"
"No, you're safe," the Doctor said, firmly. "Tudor England wasn't as white as history would've had you believe." He nodded towards a couple of black women who had just walked out of a side alley in front of them. "All in all, it's not so different from your time. Look over there." He pointed behind them as they strolled down the street. Ryan turned to see a man shovelling manure and hay into a bucket. "They've got recycling," the Doctor elaborated. "Water cooler moment," he added as the walked past a couple of men chatting by a barrel.
The trio continued, wandering by an elderly man who was shouting at the top of his lungs about the Earth being consumed by flame. "And global warming. Oh yes, and…" The Doctor excitedly skipped in front of them. "Entertainment, popular entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river, by Southwark, right next to…"
He suddenly took off in a sprint. Ryan shrugged at Martha and they ran after him. They rounded a corner and saw a huge, cylindrical structure down the road, ahead of them.
"Ah yes!" the Doctor exclaimed with enthusiasm. "The Globe Theatre, brand new, just opened! Though, strictly speaking, it's not a globe, it's a tetradecagon, fourteen sides, containing… the man himself."
"Whoa, you don't mean…" Martha said.
"Who?" Ryan asked. The Globe Theatre sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
Martha frowned at him. "Shakespeare, of course." She turned to the Doctor. "Is he in there?"
"Oh, yes," the Doctor grinned. "Mr Tyler, Miss Jones, will you accompany me to the theatre?" he asked, proffering his hand to Ryan.
"Mr Smith, I will!" Martha responded eagerly. Ryan simply hummed, nervously glancing at the Doctor's awaiting hand.
"Is it safe? For us to hold hands, I mean," he tentatively asked. "Like, no one's gonna call us sinners and condemn us to an eternity in hell, or we won't end up getting arrested…?"
"Nope, it's quite normal for close male friends to hold hands in this time period," the Doctor replied. "Even extends to hugging, and um, kissing." He distractedly tugged at his ear lobe. "Perfectly platonic."
Convinced, albeit still slightly nervous, Ryan slipped his hand into the Doctor's, lacing their fingers together. "Well, that's convenient of them."
"Definitely," the Doctor agreed. He tugged on Ryan's hand, leading them onwards. He looked over at Martha. "You know, when you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare!"
"And then I could get sectioned!"
They had managed to get tickets to watch Love's Labour's Won. They were in the Pit, where there was no cover nor seating. The Doctor had explained that was where the poorer people would have to go to watch, and he said it offered a better experience than being seating in the galleries. Ryan agreed, even if the smell was worse than that of a gig in the back room of a pub, but much like those gigs, he was easily able to soak up the atmosphere and enjoy the play – which was Love's Labour's Lost.
He had studied a few of Shakespeare's plays at school, but he was nowhere near as enthused by them as his English teacher, Mr Logan, had been. He had always found the language difficult to understand, and hence the plots tricky to follow, but actually seeing one of Shakespeare's plays being acted out in its original time period made the whole experience far more enthralling.
As the play finished, the Globe Theatre was enveloped in a deafening applause, which Ryan, the Doctor and Martha were all part of.
"That's amazing, just amazing!" Martha exclaimed as the actors bowed on stage. "It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"
"London never changes; in your time, you've got the drag scene," the Doctor replied. "I did drag once, in my eighth body," he told Ryan.
"Really? What was that like?" Ryan asked, curious.
"Quite liberating, actually."
"Where's Shakespeare? I wanna see Shakespeare!" Martha cried. "Author, author!" She turned to the Doctor. "Do people shout that, do they shout author?"
The Doctor shrugged, just as a man behind them shouted "author". This triggered a chain reaction throughout the whole theatre of people shouting "author".
"If they didn't before, they definitely do now," Ryan laughed.
A man leapt dramatically onto the stage, and the cheering of the crowd increased tenfold as he blew kisses.
"Is that him?" Ryan queried.
"He's a bit different to his portraits," Martha commented.
"Yeah, thought he was bald and wore a neck ruffle."
"Genius!" the Doctor began, as Shakespeare continued to wave and blow kisses to the crowd. "He's a genius, the genius, the most human human there's ever been. And now we're gonna hear him speak!" He grinned excitedly. "Always, he chooses the best words, new, beautiful, brilliant words…"
"Ha! Shut your big fat mouths!" Shakespeare yelled, much to the delight of the Elizabethan locals. Glancing up at the Doctor, Ryan saw that his face had fallen.
"Oh well."
"You should never meet your heroes," Martha advised, albeit belatedly.
Ryan lightly nudged the Doctor. "Dickens was alright though, wasn't he?"
The Doctor shrugged in response as he continued to half-heartedly sulk.
"You've got excellent taste, I'll give you that!" Shakespeare addressed the crowd. "Oh, that's a wig!" he said, pointing at an unexpecting member of the audience, encouraging jeering from the others.
"I know what you're all saying, 'Love's Labour's Lost, that's a funny ending, isn't it?' It just stops! Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle. You'll find out soon!"
The audience broke out into shouts again, demanding "when".
"Yeah, yeah," Shakespeare continued. "All in good time, you don't rush a genius." He bowed theatrically, but suddenly jerked upright, looking slightly dazed. "When? Tomorrow night!"
The crowd cheered and applauded in delight, but Ryan couldn't help but notice the looks of concern flickering between the actors.
"The premier of my brand-new play, a sequel, no less. And I call it… Love's Labour's Won!"
The audience were overjoyed, but Ryan could tell the Doctor wasn't, even without the deep frown painted on his features.
"I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of Love's Labour's Won," Martha commented as they slowly milled out of the theatre.
"Exactly, the lost play," the Doctor explained. "It doesn't exist, only in rumours. It's mentioned in lists of his plays, but it never, ever turns up. And no one knows why."
"We found our trouble, then?" Ryan asked, grinning.
The Doctor mirrored his grin. "I think we have."
"Have you got a mini-disc or something?" Martha enquired. "We can tape it! We can flog it, sell it when we get home, make a mint."
"No," the Doctor firmly denied.
"That would be bad?"
"Yeah. Yeah."
"But how come it disappeared in the first place?"
"Well, like Ryan said, we found our trouble, so let's find out."
A/N: Thanks for reading, catch you next week with a longer chapter!
