You thought I was done with kitty fic? THINK AGAIN!
It was impossible to miss the two cats. The commotion could be heard well outside of the old warehouse- yowling, growling, and fur flying. Backs arched and tails lashing, they broke apart and glared at each other. One had wavy whitish-grey fur, the other black with bits of grey peppered throughout. With resounding growls, the cats attacked each other again. By now, they were both bleeding from various wounds. One of them was bound to give out soon.
From somewhere off to the side, a UNIT soldier fired a tranquilizer gun. The first dart hit the Doctor right in the flank, and the second in the Master's shoulder. If he hadn't been so busy trying to keep his throat from being ripped out, he would have realised sooner he'd been hit. As it were, he didn't notice until the effects of the sedative started taking hold.
His vision blurred and the room started spinning. Staggering, he fell over his own paws and couldn't get up again. He suspected the Master was in a similar condition. Around him, he could hear at least a dozen different sets of footsteps...
...and one familiar pair.
"Watch out, Miss. This is..."
"It's the Doctor!" said Jo, gathering up the white cat in her arms and pulling out the dart. Across the room, he could see the Master being taken away by UNIT soldiers. "Oh, dear! You're bleeding," Jo said as she turned to walk out of the building. The Doctor tried to respond, but could only managed a garbled-sounding noise. Ah, well. At least it was all over and his adversary was safely out of the way. He relaxed and let Jo fuss over him until he lost consciousness.
He woke up a while later, aware of a dull pain in his side. Opening his eyes, he could see he was back in his lab at UNIT headquarters, but there was something blocking his view. Someone, most likely Jo, was stroking his back. He groaned and sat up. The thing in front of his face followed.
"Are you all right, Doctor?"
"Jo, what is this infernal thing on me?"
"Um...," she hesitated, not sure how to break the news to him. "You've got an awfully bad scratch down your side. You needed stitches, but the vet didn't know you're not really a cat, so he..." she gestured vaguely at the offending device, biting her lip to keep from giggling. "...put on the...cone thingy..."
The Doctor frowned. "It's not funny, Jo." He pawed at the base, trying to slip it off over his head and getting nowhere. Behind him, the door swung open and the Brigadier started to enter the room, paused to take in the scene, then hastily stepped back out with his mustache twitching. "What was that? Is someone there?" The Doctor spun around, nearly falling off the table before Jo caught him.
"It's nothing, Doctor."
"Get this ridiculous contraption off me this instant!"
"Okay, okay!" She fumbled with the fastenings. "Just calm down or you're going to hurt yourself even worse."
"I may be a cat now, but I still heal just as quickly." Once she removed the cone, he cast it to the floor with a flick of a paw. He glared at it. The door opened again, and the Brigadier re-entered, having composed himself.
"Ah, Doctor. Up already, I see," he remarked.
"No thanks to your men. Really, Brigadier. Tranquilizers?"
"They weren't meant to hit you. Besides, I think that's the easiest we've ever been able to capture the Master."
The Doctor swished his tail on the table. "I wouldn't be too sure. He's changed his appearance, but don't think for one moment that it makes him any less dangerous."
"Oh, I'm well aware of that. He's under constant guard until we've figured out what do do with him." The phone rang and Jo went to answer it. "In the meantime, what do we do about you?" he asked, referring to the Doctor's current feline state. He had no idea how he'd even begin to explain having a cat on staff.
"Well it's really quite simple. All I have to do is-"
"Brigadier, it's for you," said Jo. From her expression, it didn't look like good news. Arching an eyebrow, the Brigadier took the phone.
"Yes?" He listened for a moment, then... "What do you mean he escaped?...They did WHAT?!" The Brigadier was furious. "I don't care how cute he is, you are not to take the prisoner out for tummy rubs!" he bellowed into the phone. "That is the Master! Get after him this instant!" He slammed down the receiver and turned to Jo and the Doctor. "He's gone. Escaped. Two men in hospital. So help me, the next man who plays with the damn cat is getting a court-martial!"
"It's worse than I thought," said the Doctor. "He's using his telepathic powers to magnify the human brain's susceptibility to cats."
"What?" snapped the Brigadier.
"When humans come in close proximity to small, furry mammals, they become more prone to irrationality. Take Jo, for instance."
Jo frowned, "Why? I'm not doing anything!"
"Look at your hands, Jo."
She did. Upon realising she was petting the Doctor she quickly pulled away, blushing. If he minded, he didn't let on. Instead, the Doctor had Jo help him start rigging up a device that would turn him back to normal while the Brigadier left to oversee things. Roughly fifteen minutes later, Sergeant Benton came in to announce they'd found the Master.
"You've captured him?"
"Well, no. But we've found where he's hiding. Number four, Witterclose Drive. He's...um...well, there's a little old lady who lives there..."
"Oh, no," said Jo. "He didn't hurt her, did he?"
"No, I think he's using her as cover. We can't do anything at the moment."
"Why not?"
"Think about it, Jo," said the Doctor. "What would it look like, UNIT troops forcing a poor old granny to hand over her cat?"
It would look positively barbaric, Jo thought. They'd have to figure out another way... "I've got an idea," she said. "Get me a basket..."
Mrs. Nesbit was delighted to have something to fuss over again. Her grandchildren were all grown up and didn't visit nearly as often. The old house was lonely and empty these days. But then a cat turned up in her garden. Now she had a new friend purring away on the windowsill, fastidiously cleaning the last bit of cream from his whiskers.
She'd need a few tins of meat if she was going to keep him, she supposed, so she took her coat and cane and started down the street. Barely a few doors down, she saw a young woman sitting on the pavement next to a wicker basket, crying.
"Goodness, child. What's the matter?"
The girl wiped away her tears. "Oh, I'm looking for my cat. I'm going away to my aunt's house and I wanted to take Mittens with me, but he got out of his basket and..." A fresh wave of sobs wracked her body. "Sorry. It's probably silly, to be worried so much over a cat. Only...my mum gave him to me before she...she..."
Mrs. Nesbit handed the girl a tissue. "I'm so sorry, dearie. What did he look like? Maybe I can help."
"He's got this sort of blackish-grey colour with two white paws."
That was the very cat in Mrs. Nesbit's house. She'd thought it seemed too tame for a stray. Oh, well. This poor girl needed it more. "Come with me, dear."
"Well played, Miss Grant."
"I don't know why you sound so pleased. You're the one in the basket."
"Perhaps it is because I can accept defeat gracefully?"
"That's nothing like you."
"True. I'm planning my escape as we speak. Would you care to take a look?"
She thought she ought to; it had been suspiciously easy to get the Master inside the basket. Jo almost looked, but stopped herself. "Oh, no. I'm not falling for that old trick. I'm not letting you hypnotize me that easy!"
"Nothing gets past you, Miss Grant."
She should have looked. She would have seen him reaching through the bars and unlatching the cover, and would have been in a better position to stop him leaping out. As it were, there was another chase through the streets ending at his TARDIS, which vanished before UNIT could even reach it. "Never mind it, Jo," said the Doctor, hopping onto the lab bench. "We'll get him next time. And it might be a while, too. I've got a feeling he's going to be a cat for a long time."
"Why?"
"Because," he winked, "he hasn't got a top-quality UNIT assistant to help him."
Jo smiled. "Oh, Doctor."
Mrs. Nesbit sat down to breakfast with her new companion purring on the windowsill. That morning, someone had left a familiar basket on her doorstep. Inside had been a skinny orange and white cat along with a note that read "Found this one wandering the base. Thought you might like a furry friend. -Jo Grant."
The old house didn't feel so empty anymore.