2.

The Doctor nudged his cloak back and carefully edged up to the corner of the alley, flattening himself against the bricks as he waited for an elderly couple to finish passing by with their small dog at the end of a leash. The dog glanced over at him curiously and wagged, but he was otherwise unnoticed. So far so good. The scent of fresh bread wafted out from the building as he slipped over to the side entrance and listened for any movement inside.

Hundreds now, he thought grimly, and that was only the confirmed cases. The catatonia left its victims after only a few days, but the foreign element in their brain-wave patterns remained. They'd finally traced it to an altered yeast by-product, and then to this one bakery, he just wished he could have found it sooner. Who knew how many more were still to fall victim?

Stealthily, he unlocked the side-door and checked for any alarm systems, visible or invisible. Finding none, he cautiously slipped inside.

. . .

The Doctor dropped the grating back into place and scrubbed at his temples with annoyance. No way to punch free from the inside; it looked like a venture out would have to be the way of it.

"Not that I really want to go touring the Rani's TARDIS," he grumbled, giving his own console a pat. "But it looks like an external power interruption might be the only way. Unless we want to just sit here and play tiddlywinks until she remembers we're here."

His let his long legs carry him to the door before he could change his mind. Taking a breath, he opened the door and peered around the edge of it. Seeing no one, he cautiously tested the glowing barrier, then crossed it. As he expected, it held his TARDIS but not himself.

"Now…" he muttered. "Which way?" For lack of any other direction, he decided it would be most prudent to simply not go the way the Rani had gone. He randomly chose one of the two remaining doorways, waving cheerfully as he entered just in case there was a hidden camera. It being the Rani, there probably was but whether she was watching just then was a matter of conjecture.

This particular set of corridors were a rich mahogany brown, the wood inlaid with occasional patterns resembling molecular structures. It was beautiful in a faintly disturbing way. He worked his way along, trying to identify the underlying conduits, listening at every doorway, curve or stairwell.

Working downward, he ventured into a new section, this one a soft golden tone with a wainscoting in subtle burgundy tapestry. No matter whatever else he might think about the Rani, she always did have an elegant taste in décor. It reminded him enough of a fancy hotel that he half-expected to find a maid's cart.

Instead he found an animal's skeleton.

The bones were white and fresh, and strapped to a small trolley as if they had still been in use by their owner not all that long ago. With a small shudder, he edged around it and after a brief look in the doorway to ascertain there weren't any yet-living creatures that might be in need of assistance, he moved on.

Footsteps, just ahead. Darting into the next room over, he was relieved to only find various bits of plants and racks of petri dishes. Quickly hunkering down behind one of the racks, he tried to shield his presence as he watched the doorway through the shelving.

The Rani quietly paused at the doorway; he could just see her. She stalked past, continuing down the hall.

The Doctor let out a breath and stood up, then inwardly cursed as his shoulder caught the edge of one of the petri dishes. It tumbled, with him fumbling after it as it spun, spraying its contents into the air. He caught it just before it hit the floor and quickly placed it back on the shelf, brushing at his jacket where bits of who-knew-what speckled him like powder. He waited a moment, but there being no symptoms of it being anything dangerous, he moved on.

The hall was vacant again. He worked his way over to the nearest stairway, an elaborate geometric spiral that resembled a DNA strand. After a brief hesitation, he softly headed upward. Something plinked to the steps. Surprised, he looked down to find it was an Argulian coin. Bending to pick it up, another coin clinked down beside his feet.

He looked up. There was nothing there, just the waiting doorway beckoning above. Frowning, he abandoned the coins and headed up the steps again. Plink. Clatter. He kept going.

Reaching the top, he paused, flattening himself against the wall while he surveyed the hallway. Tink tink, clunk. He looked down at the stairwell. The steps were sprinkled with coins of all types, paperclips, small bits of paper, a small round mirror, a tiny padlock, a pen, a broken electroscrutinizer.

Suddenly connecting the dots, he clamped a hand to his pocket. Sure enough, there was a hole! A hole in his pocket? This fabric wasn't easily torn… He fingered the edge of the hole and the fibers crumbled beneath his touch. Clunk. A yo-yo eluded his fingers and fell, bouncing to the steps.

He darted out of the stairwell and into the nearest room he could find. It was thankfully unoccupied. "What in the name of Rassilon…?" He bent to examine his pocket and heard a small ripping sound as his suit jacket tore across the back of his shoulders, his jacket elbows fell away in tiny bits.

Clunk. A torch fell from his other pocket, followed by an old dime store novel, some allen-wrenches, a toy car and an already-crumbling clip-on bow-tie. His cuffs were falling away in brittle bits. This wasn't good.

. . .

The Doctor scanned over the contents of the bakery's back pantry shelves. The little storeroom had yielded nothing unusual yet, but he neatly sliced the corners of flour, sugar and soda bags, shaking samples of each into tiny plastic bags for later testing, just in case any of them contained any type of catalyst. Pocketing these, he brushed off his velvet cuffs and moved on to the dim, unattended kitchens themselves. The countertops and floors were a mess, half-used tubes of frostings, assorted cakes and masses of rising sweet bread-dough sat on every flat surface. Where were the workers?

The kitchen was quiet. He moved to a large set of louvered folding doors that presumably would contain yet more supplies and after listening briefly, frowned. Yanking them open revealed what he had feared it would. He'd found the workers.

Two women and a man lay in a heap on the floor, covered in flour. They appeared half-starved and dehydrated, but they were breathing. Kneeling, he briefly checked their pulses and laid a hand on each head. "Just like the others," he murmured. "Susceptible to even the slightest hypnotic suggestion once they came out of it. Well, we can fix that for now."

He snapped his fingers. "Awake," he commanded them shortly. "Go out the back way, then to your homes." Their eyes popped open and they weakly began staggering to their feet. "You will not harm anyone. You will go home, eat and drink, then sleep in your own beds until you are rested. Do not come back to the bakery. You are to forget any prior instructions, these supercede them. When an antidote is announced, you will partake of it."

"Yes, Master," mumbled one of the women as the three of them began walking for the door.

The Doctor frowned after her. "I can't tell you how much I was hoping you wouldn't say that," he said. "But it figures."