Act VI: Generator Ex

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The Doctor stood quite still, his arms clamped immobile by two of the unwelcome additions to the room. "Ah, now, I should warn you," he began with authority, "you're going to have trouble with my pockets."

"Don't let them have the generator," Sherlock hissed.

"Find it!" ordered the man from the riverbank.

Sherlock looked at him, but suddenly his look of cold calculation lightened just slightly. His head whipped back to the Doctor and the man now fishing through his coat pockets. The man found nothing, and the room watched as he moved onto the Timelord's trouser pocket instead.

"Honestly," the Doctor said frankly, "we could be here for years."

The man to his right grinned in triumph. His hand came out as he turned to the leader. He blinked with shock at the frozen whole salmon in his hand. He dropped it and turned back to the Doctor, plunging his hand back in. He pulled out a skipping rope - and then a small wooden penguin, followed by a Maglite, a rubber duck, an A5 sized A to Z street map of Wigan, a hand towel, and then a Martini glass.

"What's going on here?" the leader demanded angrily, but Sherlock's head flew back and he barked out a laugh.

"Transcendental pockets!" he cried. "Oh, brilliant!"

"Give us the generator!" the man hurled.

The Doctor appraised him with a maddening smile. "Don't look at me - it's in there somewhere. Just can't remember where. Try left at the cactus."

The man's hand went back into the pocket. "What cac-. Aargh!"

"That one," the Doctor and Sherlock chorused.

The man retrieved his hand to stare at the spine embedded in the palm. The leader growled something and pushed past Sherlock and the two men currently immobilising his arms. He went straight to the Doctor and yanked the fishing man out of the way. He looked at the man holding the Doctor's right arm.

"Let his arm free." He moved his gaze to the Doctor. "You get it."

"Or what?" the Doctor asked innocently, finding his right arm released.

"What?"

"Oh come on," he gushed with a knowing grin. "You say 'or else' - and then I say 'or else what?' and then you threaten me with something so terrible I gibber and hand over the generator," he went on.

"How about: you hand over the generator or I shoot your friend John," he said clearly, producing a shiny handgun from his coat pocket.

"Oh God," Sherlock groaned, extremely unimpressed. "Talk about being blind."

Everyone paused to turn to look at him.

Sherlock gestured to the window with his head. "He jumped. About… ooh, two minutes ago? No telling where he's got to now," he said wearily. "You really should have been paying attention."

"That's what comes of seeing but not observing," the Doctor commiserated.

"That's profound," Sherlock blinked.

"Well," the Doctor shrugged at the ceiling humbly.

The leader ran to the window and looked out.

Sherlock tutted. "What are you, dense? I just said, he went two minutes ago. He's an ex-soldier but still a fighter, and has a moral streak a mile wide - he'd never let you use this generator to upset someone else's home system," he scoffed.

"What will he do?" the man demanded.

"Uhm - stop your ship?" Sherlock hazarded deliberately clearly. "Come on man, think! He's going for the engines!"

The leader turned and pointed at five of the men. "Go - check the engine room. Lock it shut, guard it!"

They turned and ran, leaving just four men to hold onto the two prisoners. The leader lifted the gun and looked at Sherlock, coming closer. "You seem to be cleverer than most people I've met. Or just insufferably arrogant," he said slowly.

"It's entirely justified," Sherlock said mildly, watching him.

"He's right there," the Doctor put in.

The man looked at him. "You be quiet."

"Or what? You'll kill me? You don't have the generator," the Doctor scoffed.

"You don't really have a lot to bargain with, do you?" Sherlock said. "He's got what you want but you can't even find it in his pocket! He's the only one who can retrieve it for you - and you don't have anything to use as emotional leverage, because John's loose on your ship, no doubt going for sensitive control panels."

"I've still got you," he spat. "And your friend's human. He wouldn't know which control panels to attack."

"He was trained by the British Army," Sherlock said forcefully. "Normally that might not count for much, but John's not your usual run-of-the-mill squaddie idiot!"

"Did you actually say that out loud?" came a familiar voice.

Everyone turned and looked at Watson's head, stuck out of the wall, four feet up and at ninety degrees to the world.

"John! You came back for us?" the Doctor grinned.

"You idiot!" Sherlock accused.

The alien leader turned to aim the gun. Watson had already pushed himself out of the wall and fallen to the floor. The gap in the nasty, rotting wallpaper revealed a break in two panels of metal underneath.

The Doctor was struggling against his two captors. Sherlock yanked on both of his own arms. The men holding him tried to pull him back. He yanked again. They stepped back as once. He lifted both feet off the floor, bolstered by their desperate pulling. His polished shoes whammed into the chest of the man holding the Doctor's left arm.

All six men went down in a heap. Watson didn't bother getting up. One foot went into the leader's ankle. The other powered home into his opposite knee. He cried out and fell. The gun clattered to the floor, spinning along the pseudo-floorboards. Watson was on his hands and knees. He scrabbled for the gun.

The Doctor ducked a weighty punch by the man on his right. Sherlock bounced to his feet as if jet-propelled. The two men swung for him at the same time. He ducked, bobbed up. His shoe heaved into a midriff, sending its owner into the two men behind. Another heap was formed as Sherlock turned and grabbed the collar of the man trying to get his hands on the Doctor. The man whirled around with a punch. Sherlock dodged then smacked a jab and a right cross into his face. He fell.

"Nice," the Doctor said breathlessly.

"Queensbury rules," Sherlock winked, before turning to find the other three men back on their feet. They began to advance on him. "Oh."

"Everyone stop!" Watson cried angrily.

The room paused, then looked over at him. His left arm was out straight, pointing the gun at the leader. He was leaning against the wall, looking very out of breath and rather vexed.

"Well," Watson added, clearing his throat and sounding much more relaxed. "Makes a change for me to have the gun and not be the one tied up, kidnapped, used as a hostage, eh?" He looked at Sherlock. "Are we done here?"

The Doctor came forward, putting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder to ease him out of the way. He stepped back, eyeing the group of men watching Watson with serious hatred. One of them moved.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Watson warned sharply. "I will shoot him if you try anything."

"No you won't," the Doctor said, his large eyes communicating his authority.

"Uhm, sorry, but yes, I will," Watson argued politely. "It's been a hard day. And he might be an alien but he still has knees like everyone else, and if he wants to keep them both working he'd better tell all these - these - alien-men-things to let us go."

"We need the generator!" the leader blurted.

Watson's head snapped to look at him. "Unless your next words are 'ok, you're all free to go', I don't think you should say much," he said evenly.

Sherlock grinned, folding his hands behind his back and just watching. The Doctor came closer, looking from Watson to the leader. He tipped his eyes at the other alien.

"Why do you want the generator?" he asked slowly.

"We were paid - we were paid to deliver it," he said. "It's the last one."

"The last one?" the Doctor pressed. "In the entire universe? Come off it," he scoffed. "I heard it's part of a pair."

"So people say - but the second one's never been seen."

"How did you know it was in the museum?" Sherlock asked quietly, his eyes narrowing on the man as he approached.

"Lucky chance," the leader bit out resentfully. "One of my people saw it by accident, when it was being added to the collection. He was in the wrong museum on the wrong day - but he recognised it. He told me it was there and I found a buyer."

Sherlock pulled his phone out of his pocket quickly, stretching his arm out toward the Doctor without even looking. "Make it work," he said imperiously.

"Blimey," the Timelord marvelled, his voice high in protest, "nothing like a 'please' or 'thank you' to make people want to help you out, eh?" He flicked his eyes to the phone, took it, and brought his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. The tip of his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth as he flashed the blue light up and down the side of the Blackberry. He snapped off the screwdriver and handed it back. Sherlock took it, his eyes still on the leader, before his thumbs went to the device and he began to attack the buttons.

Watson sniffed, watching the men behind them very carefully. They eyed him but did not move. His guard neither slipped nor wavered as he held the weapon on the man and kept the status quo exactly as he wanted it.

The Doctor looked back at the leader. "Tell me who paid you," he said heavily, putting his hand in his pocket and pulling the generator out first time.

"A Judoon," he blurted.

"Oh come on!" the Doctor tutted in disgust. "If you can't even think of a good lie-"

"Not a regular Judoon!" the man added hastily. "This one isn't part of the police any more. He left," he said. "He said he needed it, he had to hand it over to someone else - I got the idea it was maybe - well, maybe daleks. He paid me a lot of gold-pressed-latinum to bring it to him!"

"Well I'm sorry," the Doctor said with a small shrug, "I'm so sorry. But you'll have to give him a refund." He brought his sonic screwdriver to bear, flicking it on and running it over the edge of the device. Sherlock's eyes went to the underside suddenly and he frowned. Then they went back to his phone.

"No!" the leader cried fearfully, reaching for the generator.

Watson slipped a step closer, the barrel of the gun going into the man's cheek. "Think carefully," he warned. The man slunk back slowly and Watson drew away again, his aim reverting to the man's chest.

The blue light slipped up and over the branches of the candlestick-shaped item, and slowly, the red tips on each holder arrangement began to pulse. As the Doctor and the leader of the grainjellians watched, the red darkened and went black. The Gallifreyan pushed his thumb into the bottom of the round green embellishments, holding the screwdriver over the three of them. They brightened and pulsed, but Watson refused to let his gaze be distracted from watching the men and their counter-productive intent.

Finally the Doctor switched off the screwdriver, pushing it back in his inside pocket, looking at the generator.

"What have you done?" the leader whispered.

"Drained the power and melted down the energy core," he said sadly, raising the item to turn it this way and that, studying it.

"You've killed it!" the leader gasped. "The last lenticular alignment feed generator in the universe! And you've destroyed it!"

"People will still be able to map the stars," the Doctor said wisely, bringing the ex-generator down to watch the bright, artificial light in the room fail to produce shadows on its surface. "They'll just have to think of another way. Ah well. And I came all this way to find a working one for a friend, too." He looked at it rather sadly. "It's just a candlestick now."

The leader sank to a crouch on the floorboards, his head in his hands. "We're in trouble," he moaned. He lifted his head, looking at the men at the back of the room. "Go, start the engines. We have to get out of here as soon as we can."

They nodded as one, turning and hurrying from the room. The leader looked at the floor, shaking his head in silence.

Watson took another step back, letting the gun drop and sliding the safety on. He put it into his pocket, looking at the Doctor. "Does this mean we can go now?"

"Yeah, I think so," the Doctor nodded with an air of quiet regret.

Watson looked back at the candlestick. "We should probably return that to the museum."

"Probably." The Doctor looked at Sherlock, found him frowning slightly at the phone screen just atop his thumbs. "What did I miss?"

"The candlestick was stolen twice," he said mildly, pre-occupied.

"Twice?" Watson asked. "Oh! Right, yes," he added quickly. "So you two just stole it from whoever took it from the museum this afternoon - who did steal it, by the way?" he asked with a concerned frown. "One minute we can't figure it out, the next moment you two turn up with it."

"Ah," the Doctor said knowingly. "Actually, we stole it from the museum."

"It was a self-fulfilling paradox," Sherlock muttered, still watching his thumbs at work.

"There are actually two going on here," the Doctor observed to himself.

"Self-fulfilling what?" Watson asked dumbly.

"What's important is the initials scratched on the bottom of the candlestick," Sherlock mused. "It belonged to someone before it wound up in the museum. I'd love to know how it got there."

"Initials?" Watson asked.

The Doctor lifted the item, turning it round for him to see the letters 'AIC'.

"I think I've found the owner…" He paused. "Doctor," Sherlock said smartly, ignoring the leader still in a foetal ball against the wall. "Might we trouble you for a quick trip to return this to where it started?"

"So that the entire circle can be completed? Why not," the Doctor grinned.

Sherlock pocketed his phone, twirling round to make for the door. "Come along then, we have things to do." He strode out of the exit, turning left. They heard his shoes on the grating and Watson threw his hands out in surrender.

"He doesn't even know the way to the-"

"It's this way," Sherlock called as he walked back past the doorway, off in the opposite direction.

The Doctor looked at Watson, patted his shoulder, and gestured to the door with his head.

"What about him? And all the Grange Hillians?" Watson asked, pointing to the man now staring at the floor, deep in thought.

"He'll have enough to think about without us in his way," the Doctor said pleasantly, "now that he'll have a renegade Judoon after him."

"Yeah - and what's that again?"

"Police. Well, space police. Well, space police rhino," the Doctor said, pocketing the ex-generator and rubbing his hands together. "Allons-y," he cried, starting for the door. Watson was left standing, his mouth open, as the tall Gallifreyan went out of the door and turned right.

"Right. Yes. Well," Watson said, his hands clapping together and then swishing round him as he turned and looked at the alien leader still curled up against the wall. "Good luck, and all that. Next time, maybe don't come to Earth, eh?" he advised awkwardly.

Then he turned and walked out as fast as his feet could take him, not looking back.

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The Doctor opened the door to the TARDIS and stood back, just as wind and dirt whipped at his coat. Sherlock pushed in through the door without a word. The Doctor held it open for Watson, but he paused to look behind him.

"Is the ship leaving?" he cried over the noise, seeing the large Victorian townhouse shiver and tremble.

"Yes! Get in, hurry!" he urged, grabbing his arm and pushing him inside.

Watson stumbled over the lip of the TARDIS entrance but kept his balance by grabbing the railing. The Doctor hurried in but Watson rushed back up to the door, keeping it open just enough to see out. He watched, his mouth hanging open, as the house shook and rumbled, the outside of it morphing slowly into dark green, pulsing metal.

The medical doctor's eyes glued to the sight of the ship shaking off its disguise and tearing itself from the ground, the Doctor left him to it and sprang up the incline, going straight to the Time Rotor and pulling levers. Sherlock watched, one hand on the yellow-padded railing in caution.

Watson stood back from the opening, closing the door slowly and just staring at the white paintjob on the wood. "That is… the most amazing thing I've ever seen!" he blurted, unable to control his hanging mouth or widened eyes.

Sherlock's eyes rolled and he went back to watching the Doctor manipulate the controls. "Do you need some help?"

"Nope," the Doctor replied happily, popping the 'p'.

"Must be hard piloting this thing when you're five short," Sherlock announced.

The Doctor paused to look at him. "How did you know-"

"Six stations, room for twelve elbows," Sherlock said briskly, going to the edge to his right. "What do I press?"

The Doctor grinned, pointing to a blue toggle switch. "Flick that up and then turn the ball next to it to the three o'clock position."

Sherlock's hands went out as instructed, as the Doctor slapped a lever up. The Time Rotor wheezed into life, sliding up to great heights before simply falling back down to start the process all over again.

"That was… That was… incredible!" Watson cried. He pointed at the white doors before turning to look over his shoulder. "Sherlock - did you see-" His breath caught in his throat as his eyes took in the interior of the TARDIS for the first time. "Oh… my… God…"

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Concluding part coming soon! Thanks for reading, everyone!