Chapter Nine

The door of the second, dirtier Police box creaks open and Sergeant Henson steps out onto the pavement. He rubs his wet brow on his sleeve, attempts to rouse the energy to stand up straight, and places a black-peaked cap on his head. To his utter dismay, Henson notices a man walking towards him: floppy, unkempt hair falling across his face, and dressed in a preposterous tweed jacket with a silly bow tie. After a long morning of events that have gone from bad to catastrophic, this silly, childish man is the last person on Earth that Henson would like to see striding towards him.

Upon seeing the quite obviously annoyed Policeman step out of the box and push the door shut behind him, the Doctor slows his pace; unsure as to how to best approach the awkward situation. An agitated, angry, and most likely entirely unsympathetic Policeman is all that stands between him and the relative safety and comfort of the TARDIS.

Henson fiercely itches the back of his hand and drops his head with a heavy sigh: 'I thought I told you to clear off?' he reluctantly asks, looking up at the Doctor with weary, puffy eyes. Henson secretly hopes that the man will scarper again so that he doesn't have to deal with whatever nonsensical story he comes up with.

Seeing no other way out of the situation, and driven by a desire to discover more about the events surrounding the dead woman and child, the Doctor shoves his hand into his trouser pocket and takes out his trusty black leather wallet. He opens up the wallet with one hand and thrusts it towards Henson's face; moving it around slightly in case the paper fails on him and just shows a picture of a dinosaur.

'I'm the Doctor,' he explains, 'on a super-secret, special undercover mission for Scotland Yard. I'm investigating all this funny business–' he waves a hand over his left shoulder, '–and I've just made a very, very important discovery.' The Doctor put his hands in his trouser pockets and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting to see if his tale is enough to convince the Sergeant. Despite looking somewhat bewildered at the pace at which the Doctor explained himself, Henson accepts his statement with a nod.

'Right – well,' the Doctor looks around nervously, 'if I could just, um, get to my Police box,' he says, pointing at the TARDIS, 'I need to contact my... officers.'

'Well there's no point in trying that one,' Henson replies, nodding towards the brighter Police box, 'I've tried it and it doesn't open.' He steps towards the other box and pulls at the handle: 'here you go – you best use this one.'

The Doctor turns on his heel and shuffles slowly towards the normal, proportionately sized, fixed in time and space, regular, boring Police box.

'Oh – this door opens outwards,' the Doctor points out as he enters. When inside, Henson pushes the door shut with an unsatisfying crack. With the structure of the box being constructed out of rather thick wood, the inside of the Police box is, if anything, even smaller than the outside shape would suggest. The Doctor turns slowly on the spot, keeping his arms tucked into his sides, not wanting to touch the walls of the enclosed space.

A dim electric light buzzes up in one of the corners of the box, and a wooden stool, next to a small wooden shelf littered with documents and pencil shavings, sits on the floor. Next to the cluttered shelf, mounted on the wall, is a telephone with an old fashioned numbered, rotating dial. The Doctor looks utterly disgusted at cramped, gloomy, confined space that he finds himself in. Upon spotting the telephone, however, he remembers why he trapped himself inside the dismal box and shuffles towards it, still keeping his arms flat to his sides to avoid touching the walls.

Reaching out with his hand, but still keeping his upper arm pulled tight against his body, the Doctor removes the receiver from the top of the device. He places the phone to his ear and traps it against his shoulder whilst he awkwardly retrieves his Screwdriver from inside his jacket without extending either arm away from his torso. After sliding the device out of his pocket, he aims a long burst of green light at the round dial of the telephone: the whirring sound of the Sonic Screwdriver travels through the device and out through the receiver at the Doctor's ear. Following a moment of confused silence, the phone begins to ring out to a number that it has never been able to reach before.

'Amy!' exclaims the Doctor; forgetting about his cramped surroundings, he flails his left hand in an upwards motion and smashes it against the wall of the box: 'Ow!'

'Yes, yes, I'm fine... why are you whispering?... oh, yes, I see... no, don't worry, it's just a bad line – it's not used to making a call like this... you could say that... listen, I need you two to do me a favour... I need you to come back to the TARDIS... I know, I know... but it's very important that you return... yes... something's not quite right... okay... okay, goodbye!'

The Doctor places the receiver back onto the phone with a click, and rubs the back of his hand. Eager to get out of the hideously small box, he grabs the door handle and pulls – the door resists. After tugging harder on the handle of the door without success, the Doctor reaches into his pocket and takes out his Screwdriver. He aims the device at the handle and gives the wooden door three quick bursts of green light before palming his forehead in stupidity: it doesn't do wood! Feeling increasingly swamped by the walls of the tiny box, the Doctor grabs the handle and rattles the door furiously, shaking the entire box.

After a moment of frustration, and assuming that a tiny wooden box would be the ironic downfall of the last surviving Time Lord, the door of the Police box swings outwards to reveal Sergeant Henson standing on the pavement with a look of bewilderment and anger on his face.

'Oh – yes,' remarks the Doctor, 'I remember: the door opens outwards.'

'Well you always hear about these odd sorts working in the city,' replies Henson, 'but I didn't quite believe it until now.' He gives the Doctor a stern look and turns to walk down the pavement. 'Come on,' he calls behind him, 'I'll show you to the station.'

Caught between wanting to wait for Amy and Rory to return to the TARDIS and wanting to discover more about the unusual substance found in the house, the Doctor steps out onto the pavement and nervously rubs his hands together. As Sergeant Henson stops, however, and gives him another stern look of contempt, the Doctor reluctantly follows his lead.

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