Never Go To Weston-Super-MareRating:
This began as a drabble from a prompt of Thanks to Summary:
The Doctor and the Master have a day out, but inevitably things do not go to plan.Disclaimer
: Doctor Who is not mine
How it all began ...
The repairs on the TARDIS weren’t going well, so the Doctor suggested having a break. “It’ll be like a little holiday,” he said, “It’ll be fun.”
The Master had never shared the Doctor’s enthusiasms and was mortified when he discovered it involved travelling by train with the general public.
His mood improved when they reached the seaside and a seagull used the Doctor’s head for target practice. He thought it even funnier when the Doctor went for a paddle and got extremely muddy. And best of all, they discovered that candy floss was what they needed to repair the TARDIS.
The next day ...
The Doctor woke up and tried to work out where he was. It certainly felt like the TARDIS but it wasn’t his room and the sheets and the duvet were covered in pink flowers, so were definitely not his.
“What’s going on?” he shouted, and then wished he hadn’t because it made his head hurt.
The Master poked his head around the door. “Good, you’re awake. I need you to ....” He paused as his normally enthusiastic companion continued to lie in the pink rose covered bed. “Are you okay?”
“My head hurts and my bed resembles a country garden.”
“I couldn’t get into your bedroom last night and these were the only sheets I could find. Well, these and Thomas the Tank Engine.”
The Doctor felt that waking up next to the Fat Controller would have been even worse than the roses. “What’s wrong with my room?”
“You used the automatic door lock when trying to fix the TARDIS’ console, remember?”
“No,” the Doctor looked blank. “Why would I do that?”
“I asked you that at the time.”
“Well, I definitely don’t remember doing that.”
The Master gave the Doctor a strange look, “Just how much do you remember of the last 24 hours?”
“Breakfast, we had pancakes, but after that it’s all rather fuzzy.”
The Master glared at the Doctor and stomped off – after the day he’d been through, all because the Doctor wanted ‘a little holiday’, and now he couldn’t remember a thing.
Ten minutes later, the Doctor came to find the Master, who was struggling to hold a lever down with his foot, whilst filling a hole in the console with a sticky pink substance.
“Did you want some help?” the Doctor asked.
The Master hadn’t heard him enter and was taken unawares. His foot slipped off the lever and he sat down with a thud, glaring at the Doctor.
“Why are you wearing my hoodie?”
“My shirt has gained green streaks and a very peculiar smell. It reminds me of the Porcudykes.”
“There may be a good reason for that.” The Master started absent-mindedly to eat some of the pink substance that was stuck to his hand. “What can you tell me about Porcudykes?”
“They are about the size of a football and green. They hide themselves in large vehicles in order to be transported to new places to lay their spores. They send out scouts who look for a suitable site and once they find one they transmit a signal to the rest of their colony who join them. ”
“Would a train qualify as a large vehicle?”
“Yes, I suppose it would. Why do you ask?”
“I think you found one on the train yesterday.”
The Doctor looked sceptical, “So what happened to it?”
What had happened, was that the Doctor had picked up the Porcudyke from the luggage rack, where it was travelling and was looking at it, when the train stopped suddenly. The Master had lurched into the Doctor and the Porcudyke was squashed between them.
“Er, you lost it again.”
The Doctor looked totally unconvinced. The Master was clearly trying to wind him up by telling him a ridiculous story that involved being on a train. He was certain he would remember them going anywhere by train, as the Master detested railway travel and would have moaned throughout the journey.
“And another thing,” the Doctor looked at his fellow timelord as if daring him to come up with another ridiculous story. “Why are my trouser legs muddy?”
“Simple,” the Master grinned, “you went paddling.”
It was the Doctor’s turn to stomp off. The Master resumed the console repairs.
Half an hour later and the Master had finally managed to get sufficient of the sticky pink substance into the TARDIS’ console to permit the always dubious wiring to reconnect. His hands were now covered in pink stickiness and for some reason it appeared to be on his face as well.
The Doctor reappeared, looking slightly sheepish. “I found this in my pocket,” he said, holding up a ticket, “It would appear that I was on a train yesterday after all.” He looked apologetically at the Master. “What have you got on your face?”
The Master was trying extremely ineffectively to lick the stuff of his face.
“Here, let me help you.”
After a couple of minutes the timelords were now both sticky and wearing silly smiles. The Doctor sucked his thumb.
“Candyfloss, definitely candyfloss.”
The Master nodded.
“So,” the Doctor continued, “You are telling me that we went on a train to get some candyfloss and that I found and lost a Porcudyke. But why don’t I remember any of this?”
The Master had been thinking about this. Clearly, if the Doctor didn’t recall any of the events of the previous day, then he didn’t need to give him all the facts. After the demise of the Porcudyke the train had continued to stop and start for the rest of the journey, by which time the Master’s earlier good humour had completely vanished. He had whined so much that the Doctor had suggested buying some food and having a picnic in the park on the way back to the TARDIS. The Master had agreed, which the Doctor really should have realised meant that his companion had an ulterior motive.
A few days earlier, the Master had perfected a liquid, which when administered to the Doctor in a drink, would force him to obey the Master’s every command. Even better, the Doctor would be completely aware of what was happening, so the Master would have the double delight of ordering the Doctor around and seeing his futile resistance. The effects of the liquid would only last for about six hours, but he had made sufficient so that by careful administration, he could have two days of fun at the Doctor’s expense. It would be important not to give too much at any one time, as an overdose would render the drinker unconscious.
Once in the park, the Master was carefully pouring some of the liquid into the Doctor’s drink, when the Doctor bounced over, intent on showing him the tracks made by a small furry creature. Startled, he tipped the whole vial into the drink. Before the Master could stop him the Doctor had picked up his cup and drained it. The effect was immediate and the Doctor collapsed in a heap.
“It must have been something you drank!”