Chapter 2

Rose's diary. Entry Date: Wednesday, 17th January 2018

'Today was the day of John's funeral. And typically, in death as it was in life, it was complicated….'

Tyler Mansion.

Wednesday 17th January 2018

Rose stepped into the black limo and sat down, while Pete shuffled into the middle seat, so that Jackie could sit in the other door seat. He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"You ready?" he asked looking down at her.

She gave him a small smile. "Yeah, let's do this," she said, and then thought about her young son. "EJ will be alright in the Mansion won't he?"

"He'll be fine Sweetheart. We don't want him getting into any bother and all upset at the cemetery do we?"

"No. Definitely not," she said. She thought she heard John say, 'can we get on with this?' while she was talking. 900 and some years and he'd never taken the time to learn to be patient. 'Too busy', and 'too much to see and do', he would say.

"Okay driver, we're ready," Pete said, and the car slowly and silently rolled down the driveway, following the hearse that contained the coffin of Dr. John Smith.

Kensall Green Cemetery, West London.

At the cemetery, Pete, Jack, Jake and Andy carried in the coffin and placed it on the stand in front of the altar. The crematorium was full of people, their friends, colleagues, businessmen and women, politicians, and some celebrities.

The media had been asked to respect their privacy, with Pete agreeing to give an interview after the service. Knowing that the media friendly Director of Torchwood would be true to his word, they had agreed and were obvious by their absence.

Rose was sat in the front pew of the crematorium, next to her Mum who was holding her hand. Pete came and sat next to Jackie and started reading through the service booklet. She put a hankie to her mouth as her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

The official report released to the press was that while John was off duty, he had popped down to the local supermarket to get some groceries for Rose. He had unwittingly walked into the middle of an armed raid on the security firm that were collecting the day's takings.

The ironic thing was that John didn't intervene. He knew that you let just let them get on with it and leave it to an armed response unit to deal with. But somehow it all kicked off and John shielded a child with his body when the stray bullet hit him.

The other irony was that the bullet hit the left side of his chest and lodged in his heart. His only heart. Had he been fully Time Lord, he would probably have survived.

It was SO annoying that he had not been doing anything dangerous for Torchwood. He had been getting groceries for Gods sake; that's not supposed to be dangerous.

Of course, the media had hailed him a hero, citing his George Cross as evidence of the brave and unselfish man that he was. And giving his life to save that of a child was so typical of the man.

A gentle, haunting melody started to play through the sound system that had a way of making a shudder travel down your spine. It was a Gallifreyan lament for the dead, which had been produced by the TARDIS and burnt onto a CD for Rose.

The Torchwood chaplain walked forward and stood in front of the coffin. "Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to mourn the untimely passing of our friend and colleague, John Smith. But more importantly, we are here to celebrate his extraordinary life."

'Oh if you only knew the half of it', Rose thought with a wistful smile.

"He was not a religious man, and in respect of that, this will be a humanist service that will focus on the philosophy of a man who had a passion for science," the chaplain continued.

"He was son to Ulysses and Penelope, who sadly are no longer with us. It was their loving guidance that forged the character of the man we came to know and love."

"He was Loving husband to Rose, who he adored and worshipped. Even when events conspired to separate them for three long years, they never stopped loving one another and remained faithful to the belief that they would one day be together again."

"And he was loving father to their son Eyulf, who with his mother's help and guidance, and from the memories of his friends, will always know who his father was and the kind of man that he was."

"Let us take a moment to reflect on the kind of man that he was. He was a Nobel Prize winning scientist, with his peers calling him the Einstein of our day and the greatest scientist our world has ever seen."

"A reluctant hero who defeated the oncoming darkness and saved us all from fading into the dust of non existence. Along with his wife Rose, he was the recipient of the George Cross for acts of incredible bravery in the face of extreme danger. And yet, they always felt that they didn't deserve their medals, and dedicated them to all of the people who were involved in defeating the darkness."

"He was a caring man who was a champion of the downtrodden and repressed, and if you were fortunate enough for him to call you his friend, then you were blessed with a friend who was fiercely loyal."

"And he was a humanitarian, who used his intellect to create products that changed peoples lives all over the world, and indeed changed the world itself. This was the kind of man Dr John Smith was." He paused for a moment, apparently deep in thought and silent prayer. The room was so silent you would hear a pin drop on a carpeted floor.

"I will now call upon John's father-in-law, Peter Tyler to say a few words."

Pete reached into his jacket pocket to take out his notes and made an intention movement to stand, when the verger moved in front of the chaplain and pulled out a 357 Magnum and held it in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Before we continue with the service, the collection plates will be moving down the aisles. Please give very generously…. or else," he said, waving the firearm to emphasise the 'or else'.

Half a dozen of the mourners went to stand up, but then slumped back down in their seats. The verger looked puzzled at first and then looked nervous as he realised that something was wrong. A look of dread then crossed his face and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he heard a noise behind him.

It was the kind of noise you hear in a horror film. The long groaning, creaking noise of the hinge on a coffin as it slowly opens. He didn't want to know what was creating the noise, but a macabre fascination got the better of him and he slowly turned to look at the coffin.

What he saw made his breath catch in his chest. A grey skinned left hand, with dark veins and fingernails, was slowly pushing up the lid of the casket until it was vertical. There were gasps and screams from the congregation in the room.

The body in the coffin slowly sat up, revealing the grey face of Dr John Smith. The verger could see that his eye sockets were dark and his lips were black, as the head turned to face him. He instinctively staggered backwards, eyes and mouth wide in horror.

He physically jumped when Zombie John's eyelids flicked open to reveal the yellow eyes underneath. The black lips parted to reveal rotten teeth, as a black tongue licked the lips, black saliva dribbling down his chin. The mouth shot open in a silent roar which came out as a gasping hiss.

The verger suddenly realised that he had a gun and levelled it at the zombie.

BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, BLAM, click, click, click.

Zombie John gave him a grin that looked evil, given the present state of his face. "What's the matter," he rasped. "Forgotten how to count? A 357 Magnum only fires six rounds, and you've fired your six. All of your six. All the sixes, six….six….six, ooh how I like that number."

Zombie John's right hand rose out of the coffin and pointed a stun gun at the verger.

ZAP!

He fell backwards on to the floor, unconscious. There was a moment of silence before Zombie John leapt out of the coffin.

"Well, all things considered, I think that went rather well."

The Doctor's Diary.

Entry Date: Wednesday, 17th January, 2018.

'I was guest of honour at my funeral today. Well, when I say guest of honour, I suppose I was the main attraction. I mean the dearly departed can hardly be called a guest, can they? Anyway, it was brilliant. I got to dress up as a zombie and scare the bejesus out of some low life criminal...'

30 minutes earlier.

Chrissie Anderson was in the Mobile Investigation Vehicle, which was in the car park of the crematorium. She was monitoring the arrival of the mourners and scanning them with the high tech Torchwood equipment.

"First target identified. White male, brown hair, passing through the door now."

"I'm on him," Craig Rimmer told her.

"He has a Colt 45 in his waistband at the back."

"Roger that."

"Next target acquired. White female, short black hair. Browning 9mm in her purse."

"She's mine," Julia De Graff announced.

"Two targets entering now, one behind the other. Black male, shaved head. Glock 17C in his waistband. White male, ginger hair. Glock 17C in his waistband."

"I'll take the black guy," Stuart Sinclair said.

"That leaves me with ginger," Clive Simpson said.

"Oh and that's clever. The verger has a 357 Magnum under his cassock. That one's for John. All units, the gangs all here. Repeat the gangs all here."

"The gang to entertain you," John sang back.

"Button it Smith, you're supposed to be dead," Andy told him with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Rose put a hankie to her mouth to stifle a giggle. That daft alien of a husband of hers would blow the whole gig if he wasn't careful. A congregation of mourners rolling in the aisles with laughter would really give the game away, wouldn't it?

The chaplain stepped forward and started the service, while everyone followed the script in their heads. When it came to the part where Pete would stand and say a few words, the 'gang' made their move.

Craig, Julia, Stuart and Clive had sat themselves next to their targets and were ready to make their move. When the gang made to stand up and draw their weapons, they touched their stun guns against their bodies which made a gentle buzzing sound when they pulled the trigger.

John gave his performance in the coffin with theatrical gasps and screams from the agents on cue. The verger discharged his weapon and John stunned him.

"Well all things considered, I think that went rather well," he said with an evil looking grin on his face. it was actually a satisfied grin, but the theatrical make up made it look evil.

Rose left her seat and stepped up onto the raised stage that contained the coffin and altar, walked over to her husband and hugged him around the neck.

"Mind you don't get this grease paint on your rather sexy black dress," he told her.

"Oh I don't mind, it'll wash out."

"By the way, did I ever tell you that you make a very attractive widow?"

She laughed and held his head in her hands. "No. And did I ever tell you that you make a rather sexy corpse?" She stopped and thought about what she had said. "That sounded better in my head."

She pulled him into a snog. When she broke away from the kiss she licked her lips. "Mmmmm. I can taste liquorice."

"Yep! I used it to get a black tongue and black dribble," he said.

"Oh you think you're so clever," she said teasingly.

"I'll have you know I am clever. The chaplain said so."

"Only 'cause you wrote your own eulogy. That don't count."

Jackie Tyler had moved over to the stunned verger and took some handcuffs, apparently out of nowhere and cuffed him. She then stood up and deactivated the shimmer; morphing back into Gwen O'Toole dressed in her Special Operations uniform. The famous and well known also morphed into Torchwood agents, until the only people left unchanged were the plain clothes Metropolitan police officers.

"Good work team," Andy called out as Jack started laughing and Jake gave a 'wolf whistle'. Rose turned her head to look and saw that they were looking right at her.

"What?" she asked with a smile. Jack just silently raised his eyebrows and nodded at her rear end. She looked down her left side which was unremarkable and so turned to look to the other side.

"John!" she exclaimed. There on her right bum cheek was a grey imprint of John's left hand. She turned her back to the audience to hide the evidence of John's petting, and got an even bigger laugh. When she looked down she turned crimson with embarrassment. On her left boob was the perfect imprint of John's right hand.

Gwen picked up Rose's coat off the pew, stepped up onto the stage and handed it over to cover her embarrassment.

"Thanks Gwen," she giggled.

The Metropolitan Police Commissioner, William Jenkins walked over to Pete and held out his hand.

"That was an incredible demonstration Pete. Quite remarkable."

"Oh, thanks Bill. Nice of you to say so, but it's all down to Captain McNab here who trained the team," he said, shaking the Commissioners hand.

Jenkins shook Andy's hand enthusiastically. "Well done Captain. Your team are a credit to you."

"Thank you sir," Andy said as John and Rose came to join them

"Hello Rose. How nice to see you again," Jenkins said.

"Hello Commissioner. How long has it been now, five years?"

"Yes it must be that."

Rose saw that John had a questioning look and explained. "When Dad suggested I should try the Hostage Negotiation Course, it was Commissioner Jenkins' recommendation that got me on the course."

"Please Rose, call me Bill. And this must be your husband, Dr Smith. It's a pleasure to meet the legend," he said shaking John's hand.

"It's John, and I've been waiting to shake the hand of the man who got my Rose out of a rut. I think that course was a turning point for Rose when she was at her lowest ebb. It made her realise that she had a role in this world, it gave her hope."

"Wow, that's quite an accolade there John," Jenkins chuckled. "But something that I've got to ask you. How was it that you were shot with one of the most powerful handguns in the world and were uninjured? Even with a Kevlar vest, wasn't there a risk of being hit in the head?"

John grinned and started bouncing on his toes excitedly. "I wasn't wearing a Kevlar vest. Didn't need one. Here, let me show you." He jumped up onto the stage and hurried over to the casket and pointed to a high tech panel inside. The group followed him and looked inside.

"See that? It's an extrapolator shield. It absorbs energy, all energy, even kinetic energy. The bullets just slowed down, stopped and fell to the floor." He pointed under the casket where six bullets were scattered.

"He could have fired a rocket propelled grenade at me and it would have just stopped in mid air and crumbled to pieces as the explosive energy was absorbed."

"Fascinating," Jenkins said. "We could use something like that in the Met."

"Ah, unfortunately I only know of one in this universe, and I have to put it back in my ship as soon as I get home."

While they had been talking, a young man had approached and waited patiently for the conversation to finish. "Excuse me Commissioner; the uniforms are here to take the suspects into custody. I thought you'd like to know."

"Ah yes, thank you Fielding. Carry on." The young man nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, hang on there Fielding. What was I thinking? Director Tyler, may I introduce Detective Inspector Jason Fielding, one of our young high flyers."

Pete shook the young D.I's hand. "Pleased to meet you Mr. Fielding."

"This was his case from the beginning," Jenkins told them. "It was all his information that allowed us to plan this little 'outing' today."

"Good work son. This 'little outing' has demonstrated how our two organisations can work together and share resources effectively," Pete said.

"Thank you sir, I think you're right. But without your team making them show their hand, all we had on them were possession of unlicensed firearms with intent to rob. We now have enough on them for a conviction for armed robbery."

"Well I for one am glad that we could help," Rose said. "What a bunch of scumbags, robbin' the rich and famous while they were emotionally vulnerable and off guard."

"Well said. Y'know Bill, you could do with someone like Jason here to coordinate more of these operations," John said.

"What, fancy doin' some more dressin' up and actin' do ya?" Rose teased.

"Actually John, you've read my mind there," Jenkins said. "What do you think Pete?"

"Why don't you and Jason stop by my office tomorrow morning and we'll discuss it. Bring your CV with you Jason; I think we may have an opportunity for some career progression. What do you say?" Pete said.

"Really? I've been following Torchwood for quite a while now, fascinated by your methods and technology. What time do you want me there," he said eagerly.

Pete grinned and slapped him on the back. "09:00 okay for you Bill?"

Jenkins also grinned at his young protégé. "09:00 will be fine."

"Brilliant!" John said, shaking Jason's hand. "Looking forward to working with you again."

"Right then," Pete called out. "Everybody down the local for a quick pint before heading back for the debrief. First round's on me."

There was a chorus of cheers from around the room.