The Doctor and the Vet

by Anfloga

Tristan Farnon doesn't want to play cricket. Luckily, there's a stranger in Darrowby who does- and no-one can tell them apart. What could possibly go wrong? I've had to make the timings a bit wibbly-wobbly and put an extra year in between the episode with the cricket match and the beginning of WWII. No pairings- and that goes for you too, Tristan. Behave. I own nothing. Please R R.

12. Chapter 12

In the TARDIS, the Doctor was looking around him and frowning.

"Tegan, Turlough, have either of you seen my coat?" Tegan thought back, then her hand flew to her mouth.

"Tristan and I brought it with us when we came to get you from Skeldale, but I think we must have left it there!"

The Doctor chuckled. "He'll have a hard time explaining that one to his brother." He reset the co-ordinates to return.

Back in Darrowby, Siegfried entered the living room to find Tristan reclining on the sofa, smoking with an air of innocence that he normally deeply mistrusted. Today, however, he was feeling slightly kinder towards his brother; after all, Tristan had gone out and faced Tagger Herd, when Siegfried had fully expected him to find some way of sloping out.

"How are you feeling, little brother?"

"I told you, Siegfried, I'm fine. Raring to go."

"Hmm, that would certainly make a change, but whatever you say…Tristan, is this your coat? I haven't seen it before."

"That? Oh, yes; that's mine. Bought it only the other day. Rather natty, don't you think?"

"As a matter of fact I do not; it looks like something a travelling entertainer would wear…and what's that smell…?" He opened up the folded garment, looked at it in disbelief, then at his brother.

"Tristan, would you care to explain why there is a stick of celery attached to your lapel?"