A/N: Finally, the second part is here. Hurrah. Well, stop reading this author's note and read the actual story - that's why you're here, innit?

THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS: PART TWO

DAY FOUR

The Doctor was brooding. What was with this whole 'twelve days of Christmas' thing? He hadn't asked for it, and he certainly wasn't appreciating it. There were birds everywhere, and it was driving him mad. Brittany didn't seem to be minding; to her, it was all a big joke that would finish soon enough. The Doctor, however, had had enough of French hens trying to unlace his shoes with their wings.

He snapped his book shut. "Stop!" he cried as he leapt to his feet, sending the hens scattering off in all directions. "Enough! I can't take this anymore!" His shoulders sagged, and he reached an arm up to retrieve his tie from the partridge that seemed intent on making his head its nest. When he entered the console room, Brittany was already there, but she knew not to make any comment about the bird sitting on his head, nor mention the dove that was trying to tear apart the handbrake with its feet. The Doctor sullenly walked over, moved the turtle dove to the helmic regulator, and began hammering buttons with less than his normal enthusiasm.

The Time Lord needed only an hour or two of sleep each night to function, but he had not been able to sleep a wink. The mystery of who had sent him the strange boxes had kept him up all through the early hours of the morning. Well that, and the fact that one of the three partridges had moulded his bed sheets into a makeshift nest, and any time he tried to remove it, it had leaped up to attack his nose. He wasn't quite sure which one it was (it wasn't the one that was living on his head – that one had never left his hair), but it had bloody well kept him up all night, leaving him with deep circles under his eyes.

"You're looking a bit worse for wear," Brittany commented, concern in her voice, after they had finished the smoothest landing in Type 40 history.

The Doctor looked at her with hooded eyes. "You have no idea." He skulked his way down the stairs, shrugged his overcoat on with minimum effort, and opened the door, already having a fair idea of what was going to be out there.

His prediction was accurate, because there, right on his doorstep was another one of the boxes addressed to him. This box was considerably larger than the previous ones, and he opened it without even bothering to read the card. He was immediately set upon by a flock of squawking birds, which he did his best to ignore. Instead, he reached into the box, retrieved the pear sapling, and tipped the pot upside down, leaving the plant lying on the ground in a pile of moist soil. He then walked back inside, a grand total of ten birds following in his wake.

"Brittany?" he said after he had closed the door. "It looks like we have more guests." His companion just turned her head away and smirked, making sure that the Doctor couldn't see her expression. She knew him well enough that one little mistake would send him into a rage. A sleep-deprived reckless Time Lord who was known as 'the Oncoming Storm' across the galaxies was not someone you would want to provoke. She set her face back into a neutral expression, and glanced over at the Doctor.

He appeared to be using the TARDIS scanner as a pillow.

DAY FIVE

Hot oil sizzled and spat as Brittany prepared breakfast. For the first time in the history of ever, she had woken before the Doctor, and had decided to treat him to some fried eggs and ham. She hardly ever got a chance to cook; either the Doctor had already done so, or they ate a rushed meal of cereal and were out the door before you could say 'Doctor, I still have to brush my teeth!' TARDIS life sure was hectic.

The Doctor entered the kitchen at a run, slamming the door behind him. He was wearing a clean suit, his hair was freshly washed (and sans resident partridge) and a haggard expression adorned his face.

"You're looking better this morning," Brittany said cheerfully as she dished out breakfast. "Did you manage to clear that nest out of your bed then?"

"Oh no," the Doctor replied, hands immediately reaching for the cuppa that was sitting on the tabletop before him. "I slept on the couch."

"Which couch?" Brittany queried, placing two plates on the table, as well as a much-loved teapot.

"The green one," the Doctor responded through a mouthful of steaming tea.

Brittany swallowed a bite of ham. "But that's the one with broken spring that digs into your backside when you sit on it. What happened to that nice tartan sofa you had?"

The Doctor massaged the small of his back. "It appears to have gone missing." He drained his cup of tea with a contented sigh. "Personally, I think Jack's nicked it. He always 'borrows' my stuff without asking." He shrugged, and cut into his fried egg. "Oh my word, this is delicious. Compliments to the chef." He grinned at Brittany, and dug into his meal.

"So, worked out who the boxes are from yet?"

The Doctor waved his fork around. "Not a clue. Hang on, it isn't you is it?

"Oh, God no. Love messages and traditional carols is not my style. Besides, I live here too, and I certainly don't appreciate having doves canoodling in my bed."

"Were they -?"

"Oh yes."

The Doctor shuddered and pushed his empty plate away. "Well, I suppose we had better get to the control room, and grab today's box." He stepped out of his chair, and onto the table, craning his neck to look at the ceiling. "Now, if only I can remember where I put it…" He buzzed the ceiling with his screwdriver, causing a hidden access panel to slide away and reveal a crawlspace. "See you at the console room, yeah?" he said before he wriggled his way inside, kicking his legs crazily.

"Yeah, I suppose," Brittany muttered, opening the kitchen door to travel along the usual route to the console room. She arrived before the Doctor, and decided that she would do him a favour and drag the box inside so that they could deal with the problem. It was about as large as yesterday's, and smelt like… well, like birds. She didn't want to think about what the Doctor was going to do with whoever was sending those boxes once they found them. And it wasn't a matter of if – it was just when. Brittany finished dragging the box inside the TARDIS, and walked over to close the doors, but on her way back, she heard a strange scuffling sound from the ceiling. She paused to look up, only to see two blue-suited legs shooting towards her.

The Doctor landed squarely in her arms, but he was surprisingly heavy for such a skinny bloke. She staggered backward – right into the cardboard box. It toppled over backwards, releasing its potentially deadly payload of birds. "Oh no!" the Doctor moaned as he and Brittany finally overbalanced and fell to the floor. "This was a clean suit and everything!" The birds immediately descended on him, intent on destroying his immaculate suit.

Brittany avoided most of the devastation and reached the cardboard box with only one cursory scratch on her cheek. There was something still inside the box, just like she'd expected. She swept the remains of the uprooted pear sapling aside and retrieved a small wooden box inlaid with mother of pearl. "Hey Doctor!" she called as she opened it. "You've got five golden rings."

"Great," the Time Lord shot back, tugging a dove away from his ear. "Perhaps we can pawn them to cover the cost of repairing my damaged psyche."

DAY SIX

The Doctor paused, sleek pistol in hand. He used a mirror to check around the corner, and once he was sure the coast was clear, he hurried down the next corridor, eyes darting around furtively. It couldn't be called the best of situations – he was reduced to sneaking around his own ship like a criminal, and he even had to carry protection with him at all times. When he found out who was sending him all these birds…

He froze when he heard an out of place sound, and once he'd identified it as the all-too-familiar call of a partridge, he bundled himself into the nearest broom closet and closed the door with a quiet 'snick'. Once the sound of fluttering wings had faded away down the corridor, the Doctor risked turning the closet's light on.

He stiffened. There were a grand total of five doves sitting on the shelves of the closet, and every single one was staring straight at him. "Will this never end?" the Doctor muttered to himself as he slowly reached behind his back for the doorhandle. That was the trick. Keep all your movements nice and slow, so you didn't alarm them. A flock of alarmed birds with sharp claws was not a good thing, especially not with so many hiding all over the TARDIS. He managed to open the door, but the birds saw the sudden change in light level as a threat. By Rassilon, they saw everything as a threat!

The Doctor bundled himself out of the closet, firing his weapon wildly. Two doves dropped out of the air, their wings bedraggled and useless. The Doctor was glad he'd stopped by the kitchen to fill his water pistol with maple syrup – that extra bit of stickiness made all the difference. He felled a third bird, but the last two made it through his rain of shots. One immediately started to peck at his ear, drawing a miniscule amount of blood. The other flew around his head, ruining his spiked hair. He moaned at this latest disgrace, and attempted to hit the two remaining doves with his water pistol, but only succeeded in covering himself in maple syrup.

There was a crash from behind him, and he spun on the spot, waving his hands around his head to ward off the attacking birds…

And was immediately run down by a squawking gaggle of geese. He groaned from the floor as Brittany ran into the corridor at full speed.

"I'm sorry!" she called as she screeched to a halt. "The box just didn't want to stay shut." She paused for a grin. "Though – six geese a-laying? Cor blimey."

The just raised up his left hand. "I noticed," he muttered, a single maple syrup-covered goose egg stuck to his palm.