Chapter 1

"Twentieth century. Law-keeping. People scuttling around busily. Lots of paperwork. Sprouts."

Clara stared incredulously as the Doctor described the few facts he could glean about their current location.

"You're making this sound like a very bad Disney film," she told him, "we're in a car park. Anyone can see that."

"Yes," the Doctor honed in on a yellow Fiat and ran his finger along the bonnet, "the question is; why?"

"So… so that all the law keepers have a place to park while they do their paperwork and eat sprouts?" Clara followed the Doctor as he moved from one car to another, "what are you doing exactly?"

The Doctor poked a couple more vehicles before returning to the yellow car.

"Fascinating," he said, "almost clocked up as many time-miles as the old girl," he glanced across to the little blue box, smouldering slightly from its unexpected 'emergency landing'.

"Are you trying to tell me that's a…" Clara swallowed, "a Cardis?" she cringed at her own pun. "Sorry. I hate me for that too."

The Doctor couldn't take his eyes from the vehicle.

"It might not be quite the glorious method of transport that we're used to but it's got something about it," he said.

"The question is," Clara began, "whether or not it's bigger on the inside." She peered through the window to the back seat. "From the suspicious stains on the upholstery I'd say it's big enough for something," she commented.

Together with the Doctor she backed away and began to take in a little more of their surroundings.

"There's something going on," the Doctor said as his eyes scanned the car park, "Something pulled us over here. Something pulled us through the fabric of the reality we know. Knew."

"But what?"

"Not sure," the Doctor admitted, "might need to talk to a few of the locals."

"Like who?" Clara asked, looking around. The place seemed oddly quiet, but as they turned to the building a face at one window caught the Doctor's eye.

"The gentleman yonder!" he said brightly and grasped Clara by the sleeve. It was time to pay a visit to some twentieth-century law enforcement personnel.

~xXx~

"Oh fuck no," Simon shook his head and backed away from the window. Not only had they seen him but they'd started to run in his direction. That was the last thing he needed, especially considering the current situation.

His eyes scanned the office where a smattering of people lay on the floor, unconscious. Most of them had dropped the moment the Tardis materialised. Simon seemed strangely unaffected but he was powerless to do anything as he watched friends and colleagues passing out around him and after trying to revive them with a slap and failing he'd returned to the window to take another look at the most unexpected sight.

This was some kind of terrible, weird, twisted joke. It had to be. He couldn't work out who or why or how, but it was.

"I fucking hate Doctor Who," he mumbled under his breath.

That wasn't entirely true. He hated the series revival. Nothing after Seven existed to Simon. Sylvester McCoy was the last real Doctor. Sod the bloody TV movie.

But as much as he hated the show it didn't compare to how he felt about things he couldn't explain. There was a logical explanation for everything with the possible exception of how Eldorado ever got commissioned by the BBC, b ut try as he might he couldn't find one for the blue box in the car park.

"It's a joke, a bloody elaborate joke," he mumbled, "it's ninety eight… Jeremy Beadle's still alive, isn't he? It's a set up and he's behind it. Or Noel Edmonds. Is the House Party still on?" He shook his head, aware he was wasting precious time. He needed to work out what to do before some weirdo Doctor Who lookalike arrived in the office. Robin would know. Robin would know what to do. If there was a logical explanation for something then Robin was the one who'd find it. Unfortunately the only thing Robin was about to find was how uncomfortable the floor was.

"Robin," Simon crouched over him, "Robin… Rob, come on! I need you! We've been invaded by lookalikes and the BBC props department has shit out a Tardis in the car park!" he tried tapping Robin's cheek and he murmured but did little else. "Robin!" He tried a harder slap and a shocked and somewhat annoyed pair of eye opened wide. "Rob! Thank god," Simon breathed, almost laughing with relief.

"You… slapped… me," Robin stared at him. Although Simon appeared upside down in his field of vision he could see him clearly enough to consider a revenge slap but before he had a chance Simon started dragging him to his feet.

"I'm sorry… Gene's out, and he's got the smelling salts."

"Smel- what? What's going on?" Robin rubbed his head, "why am I on the floor?"

"You're not the only one, look around you!" Simon panicked, "the station's out cold!"

"Why aren't you?" Robin demanded, then realised there were more important questions afoot, "and what the fuck is going on? What did you mean people were shitting in the car park? Has no one brought them in for questioning yet?"

"Not literally shitting!" Simon protested, "There's a fucking Tardis out there!"

Robin hesitated. He blinked.

"Is this one of Gene's toilet jokes?" he demanded.

"No!" Simon cried, "Go and look for yourself!"

Robin eyed Simon warily.

"What the hell… it's not April fool's day is it?" he scowled.

"I hope not," shuddered Simon, "unless someone imported it to May."

Robin stared at Simon then began to walk very slowly and unsteadily to the window.

"You've been under a lot of stress lately…" he began.

"Rob, I'm not shitting you!"

"What's with all the 'shit'?!" Robin cried, "and anyway, you're talking rubbish because there's no – fucking way that there's a bloody Tardis in the damn car park," Robin choked as he reached the window and caught sight of the object that was traumatising Simon so much.

"I told you!"

"This is ridiculous," Robin shook his head, backing away from the window, "Oh god, no, Gene's setting us up."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know!" cried Robin, "because? Because he's Gene!"

"Where the hell would he get a bloody Tardis from?"

"How the hell do I know?" Robin cried, "novelty shop?"

"What the hell kind if nov- no, it's not him," Simon shook his head, "the bloody thing materialised, I saw it!" he frowned, "I was the only one who did. What the hell happened to you all?"

That was the first time that Robin realised the office was littered with unconscious bodies, still lying on the ground.

"Oh my god!" he cried, thrusting his hands through his hair and staring on in a panic, "what happened to them?"

"Whatever happened to you?" cried Simon.

"Oh god… shit," Robin frantically rubbed his eyes, "the last time this happened it was when something went wrong with time and we broke the pub."

"I know, I know," Simon remembered the day far too well.

"Oh no," Robin said quietly.

Simon froze.

"What?" but before Robin could start voicing ridiculous theories he started feverishly shaking his head. "Oh no, no, no, don't you even think about saying it!"

"Si, look in the bloody car park!"

"It doesn't necessarily mean there's something wrong with time just because there happens to be a Tardis in the car park," Simon began, aware it was probably the most stupid sentence he'd ever said, "what the fuck am I even saying? I'm not going there!" he couldn't even think about that right now. His main concern were the unconscious colleagues scattered all over the floor. "We need to help wake everyone up again."

"What's wrong with them?"

"I don't know, I'm not a first aider!" Simon cried, "besides, the first aider is unconscious on the floor."

Robin spun around and caught sight of Jake's body lying limply on the floor.

"Oh shit," he stumbled towards him, trying and failing not to panic, "Jake?" He dropped to his knees and tried to shake him awake. "Jake it's me… wake up."

"Try slapping him," Simon said casually and Robin looked up in horror.

"I'm not slapping him!" he cried.

"I'll do it then," Simon said quite happily and Robin scowled.

"What have you got against Jake?" he demanded.

"Sadly not my fist," Simon mumbled. He didn't know why he couldn't seem to get on with Jake, they'd just clashed since day one. Robin was about to reprimand Simon for his remark when he heard a low murmuring coming from Jake's lips and he looked down to see his eyelids trying to open. "Jake? Jake, can you hear me?"

The sound of Robin's voice seemed to give Jake a little push back to consciousness and he opened his eyes fully.

"My head," he groaned, "I don't remember getting pissed…"

"It's not a hangover, it's more like concussion," Robin said anxiously, "you passed out."

"You all did," Simon added, rolling his eyes. "Except me. Apparently."

"Marci!"

The word flew from Jake's lips in a panic as he saw his oldest friend in a crumpled heap. "Shit –"

Still wobbly and disorientated Jake scrambled across the floor to her just in time to see her eyes starting to open as the rest of the room began to awaken.

"Ohhhh," Marci moaned as she tried to prop herself up on one arm, "what happened?" she blinked a few times, "I'm… on the floor." That didn't make sense. Being on the floor after a night on the town, maybe, but not after a morning of heavy photocopying. Both she and Jake turned to Robin and Simon. "What's going on, sir?" she asked.

"What's happening?" Jake added, "Fumes or something? Do we need to evacuate?"

Simon and Robin exchanged a glance.

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Simon told them.

"But if something's made everyone pass out –" Jake began but the stricken look on Robins face silenced him.

"There's something in the car park," was all Robin could say.

Jake blinked.

"Something?" he repeated, "what kind of a something?"

Robin bit his lip.

"A blue one," he whispered.

Before anyone had a chance to question him further a buzz of energy whirled down the corridor as two figures, one slightly more enthusiastic than the other, entered the room amid a flurry of words.

"Nice interior," the gentleman began, "shame about the ceiling. Still, good if you want to play a game of upside-down chess!"

A slightly sheepish young brunette followed, her dark eyes turning from one person to another as she said,

"I'm sorry… too much sugar. I'm sure he'll calm down in a minute." She paused. "Maybe."

"Your doorman," the gentleman began, "nice fellow. Laying down on the job though." He didn't seem to be able to stop himself walking around and around; between desks, peering out of windows, circling the detectives, "I thought he might have a few questions for us but he was miles away, dreaming about falling crime rates, no doubt." He stopped his dashing and spinning and turning just long enough to ask, "so which one of you good law-keepers did I see watching from the window?"

Simon swallowed as he felt Robin's stare turning to him. His top lip witched with displeasure as he stared on.

"It was me," he said reluctantly.

"Good thing one of you was wide awake." The gentleman smiled amiably, "I hate arriving unannounced."

"No you don't," his companion pointed out.

"No, I don't, but I was trying to be polite."

From where he'd fallen, a bemused Bammo staggered to his feet, staring at the stranger. He swallowed hard before he finally managed to choke out,

"Who are you?"

The stranger beamed.

"Yes, exactly."

Bammo scratched his head.

"What?"

"No, you were closer the first time," the stranger told him, "I'm –"

"The Doctor," everyone turned as Jake's breathy gasp caught their attention and he slid across the ground almost as though gravity was not a thing that existed until he stopped right in front of the Doctor, hands stretched and head bowed, "oh my god…"

"Oh shit," Simon slapped his forehead as Robin cringed and tried to hide his face, "Great. World Supreme Champion Whovian is off on one."

"I can't… I mean, it's not…" Jake could barely speak. He stared at the Doctor's shoes and slowly his line of sight rose, taking in his full attire right up to the bow tie. He tried to scramble to his feet to shake the Doctor's hand but fell back to the floor in an ungraceful heap. "Marci," he whimpered, "Marci, help, I can't feel my legs, I've gone into shock." He waited for someone to help him up but when nothing happened he frowned. "Marci," he tried again.

But Marci was busy slinking across to the pretty brunette standing somewhat sheepishly in the doorway.

"Hello," Marci offered the girl a charming smile, "I'm Marci. DC Fell." She edged a little closer, "and you are…?"

"Not as important as your life long best friend who needs help!" begged Jake

"You need help alright," muttered Simon.

"Stop it," hissed Robin.

"What?"

"You're showing us up in front of the Doctor!" Robin hushed him.

"You don't buy into this as well do you?" Simon cried, his hands raised in the air, "oh for god's sake, someone's setting us up. They hired a lookalike and a big prop and a –"

"Dalek," an outraged voice declared.

All eyes turned to see a furious Kim in the doorway.

"What?" Robin wasn't sure he could cope with any more surprises.

"Who the hell put a fucking Dalek in my office?" Kim demanded.

"Erm," Robin swallowed, "I-I don't know if anyone… 'put' it there, exactly…"

"Well it didn't get there by itself, did it?" Kim demanded, "how the hell did it get up all those stairs?"

"They float now," Jake said matter-of-factly.

"No they don't because there's no such thing," Kim said crossly, "who the hell's borrowed a bloody big prop and dumped it in my office? Is it for the road safety thing? Please don't tell me one of us has to wear it!"

"No, it…" Robin swallowed, "I think it really did… appear."

"Because we have a precedent for fictional crap appearing in the office, do we?" Kim asked. To her horror a sea of faces nodded.

"We do now," Robin told her.

She followed his stare to the unexpected arrivals in CID.

"Moring," the Doctor smiled amiably.

Kim hesitated. Then she swallowed.

"I-I think I'd quite like to pass out again now, please," she whimpered.