A/N: I did look up Raxacoricofallapatorius, but I couldn't find a lot. If I made a mistake, I'm very sorry.
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John wasted no time in stitching up the Doctor's arm. He could feel Clara watching in admiration, causing him to shift uncomfortably. "Hold still," he murmured to the Doctor, though there was no need to. The Doctor, given his two thousand years of experience, was a wise patient.
"At least the bloodstains will be proof of a fight with Dadre should the Raxacoricofallapatorian government be displeased," the Doctor said as he finished.
"Do you think they will be?" John asked, walking to the body.
"No," the Doctor replied honestly.
"But he's been wrong before," Clara cut in.
The Doctor pouted slightly as he covered his arm with his coat sleeve. "Prep the body as you would for a funeral. Then we'll take her back to Raxacoricofallapatorius."
The body of the great alien was lain out over a stretcher. John and Molly worked together to clean her up and shift her into position. "It's only right," the Doctor insisted. The scales felt oddly smooth against the army doctor's hands. He placed her hands across her chest to keep them from falling.
"This is so cliché," Clara grumbled. "A son going to avenge his mother? Really? That's too cliché to be true, isn't it?"
"Molly Hooper, how do you feel about a trip into space?" The Doctor asked the pathologist, ignoring his companion.
Molly smiled shyly. "I would love to come," she replied.
John tuned out the conversation and examined the corpse in front of him. In death, Dadre looked peaceful for probably the first time. John tried to imagine her as a mother. (A real one, that is. John doesn't consider Gorgo and Alsa as her children.) Her hands, instead of being used to tear throats out, may very well once have been used to hold a baby with love. Her face, now relaxed, could have held a kind expression. Or perhaps not, he mused. She hardly seems like the mothering type.
When the Doctor determined that she was ready, John and Molly wheeled the stretcher into the TARDIS. The pathologist, at the Doctor's order, clung onto the rail to support herself. John left her to go to Clara's side. "Are you okay?" he asked.
She nodded in response. Boldly, John grabbed her hand. She blushed slightly, but she made no objection. He saw Molly smirking and the Doctor smiling to himself. John smiled in relief at the Doctor's silent approval.
"Doctor, Dadre does not have a son who's going to avenge her death," Clara said.
Until that point, Sherlock had been standing on the outskirts, but when Clara spoke, he stepped forward. "I think so too."
"You think?" John asked in amazement. "The great Sherlock Holmes isn't sure?"
Sherlock shot him a glare as he continued. "We all, well, minus Molly, saw Gorgo and Alsa. She's bluffing."
The Doctor fidgeted with the controls. The doubt was written clearly across his face. His hands seemed to absently turn knobs and dials as he pondered. "I will prepare for the possibility, but I believe you are right."
With the time coordinates in, the TARDIS pulled into the vortex, shaking as she moved. John held tighter to Clara's hand reflexively. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards briefly as he did.
"So I guess we're safe now?" he asked Clara.
"With the Doctor, we're never out of the woods."
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"You are in danger, coming with us."
Molly jumped as Sherlock seemed to appear out of nowhere behind her. She straightened her jacket in an attempt to cover it up. "W-why is that?" she stuttered.
He frowned down at her. "Murder. Aliens. The usual."
Molly's eyes scanned his face. Is he...concerned? she wondered. About me?
"Well, I wanted to see this Raxac-coria-, er, Raxafillous-, ah this planet," she finished lamely, blushing.
And because I wanted to come with you for once, she added silently.
He leaned in closer. "Molly, I can't garuentee that an alien assassin won't come for us."
"Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary," Molly replied, trying to sound steady.
Sherlock blinked in surprise. The floor shook, and he took off towards the door. Molly sighed as she watched after him. It seemed that she would spend the rest of her life watching the consulting detective from afar. As much as she wished it were different, he had captured her heart, and Molly was powerless to steal it back.
She snapped out of her trance when the Doctor appeared on the other side of the stretcher. "Shall we then, Molly?" he asked.
Molly nodded eagerly. The strange alien smiled down at her, somehow staying the anxiety building in her stomach. She swallowed hard and tightened her grip on the stretcher. With a snap of his fingers, he opened the TARDIS door. He guided Molly outside, onto the alien planet.
The sky was a brilliant shade of pinkish purple. Molly gasped in amazement. "Amazing isn't it?" the Doctor asked softly.
Molly nodded mutely as she continue to take it all in. Even the grass under her feet seemed alien. She focused on the building in front of her. It was tall and rather plain, made of some sort of black stone.
It wasn't long before Sherlock, bouncing ahead, stole her attention back. She smiled to herself as he confidently pushed forward. Molly glanced behind her, at John and Clara. The two were standing close together, whispering.
Inside the building, oddly enough, felt familiar. There was a carpet running in a straight line over the tile, leading to another room. The black walls and floors were made with perfectly cut rectangles. Two desks on either side of the room stood faving each other. In the corner, a spiral staircase led to an upstairs room. If Molly ignored the aliens staring at her, she could almost pretend that she was still on Earth. They stood in a circle, apparently in the middle of a serious argument. At their approach, the aliens fell silent. "Doctor? What is the meaning of this?" one hissed.
The Doctor pulled the stretcher from Molly's hands and approached the group of them. They began to whisper amongst themselves. Molly staggered backwards. The anxiety was rising through her blood fast. She clenched her fists and jaw as she took deep breaths through her nose.
Suddenly, Sherlock was touching the back of her hand. Her thoughts cleared just enough for her to get her body back under control. "Thank you," she murmured under her breath.
"Are you...okay?" he asked hesitantly.
"I will be," Molly answered softly.
The aliens straightened. One of them caught Molly's eye and smiled kindly. At the realization that she was not about to die, Molly's legs shook. Sherlock put his hand on her shoulder to steady her.
"Thank you for your help, Doctor," another one of the aliens finally said. They took the stretcher and wheeled it away into the back room.
"We will all sleep better knowing that she is gone," another alien replied.
The Doctor and the aliens exchanged farewells. He turned back to the group of humans. Relief was etched into his features as he clapped his hands together. "Well, that's over. You are probably wanting to go home."
Murmurs of agreement rang through the small crowd as they followed the Doctor outside. "Doctor, what about Dadre's son?" Molly asked.
"There's no son coming for vengeance," Clara replied.
The strange voice that spoke from behind them made Molly's blood turn cold.
"Oh, but isn't there?"