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Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 10

Title: Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam, Sam/Annie
Rating: PG
Chapter: 10/?
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows. The BBC, Kudos does.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write. The last chapter was a complete dud, I know. So hopefully this will make up for it; I find it has plot. Yes, I have found the plot bunny once more *giggles* Chris's POV; 'cause he's cute an' all.
About: The 'team' *cough* interrogate an odd girl with odd eyes who saw something seriously odd yesterday. Yes, I have seen that "odd thing" that she saw before. Seriously.


Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 9

Title: Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam, Sam/Annie
Rating: PG
Chapter:  9/? 
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows. The BBC, Kudos does.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write. Oh my, I am soo sorry about the wait. Muse left me with half a chapter, and only after I saw several DW and LOM episodes was I able to continue. I am currently having an internal debate about the plot. So the plot is a little lacking in this chapter, but since it  has been so long since I posted a chapter, I thought I'd still post it.
About: Martha, Chris, Ray, Gene and Sam are off to find witnesses at a Girl's High School. Is this case related to Sam's ticket home?

“Uh, Boss?”

Chris had walked into the cafeteria, and was now standing anxiously in front of Sam.

            “Yes Chris?”

            “Guv told me to tell you to get your... nancy, United-supporting, smart-arse back into the office.”

Chris had been wearing one of those goofy grins of his, but he dropped it when he saw Sam’s expression.

            “Fine. Chip?”



            “It’s Chris Boss,”

            “No, chip?”

            “No, it’s Chris,”

Sam waved his hands at the nearly-finished plate of chips.

            “Would you like to have a chip before I throw them away?”

            “Oh... sorry. Yes. I mean, no not yes. I understand you now.”


            “Uh, no,”

Sam sighed, running his hand through his short hair. Sometimes he wondered how Chris ever got into CID without having his body dumped in the canal first.

            “Tell the Guv I’m coming. With Martha,”

            “Martha, right.”

Sam watched with amused interest as the young man’s wonderfully mismatched eyes slid to where Martha and Annie were sitting, and how he seemed to blush slightly.


            “Oh, right. Uh, bye,”

Chris took a chip from the pile and walked out. Actually, walked wasn’t quite what he did. He more or less strode out of the cafeteria in what was a near-hopeless attempt at a confident rhythm, topped off to completely hopeless by tripping over a chair leg when he glanced back at Annie and Martha; whom were in absolute hysterics by now. Sam sighed, smiling wearily at the poor div. He got up and tossed the soggy cold chips in the rubbish and made his way to the two women, who were now trying very hard to contain their laughter.

            “...anyway, so he was complete starkers and han’-cuffed to his... Oh hi Sam, I didn’t see you there.”

Annie turned around with a rather guilty and mischievous glint in her eyes. Martha’s lips seemed to quiver as though almost about to smile, but restrained it.

            “Talking about me?”


That sent them off again in half-suppressed giggles. At least now Annie wasn’t avoiding him. She even seemed to be enjoying herself. Whatever that blessed Saint Martha Jones had said to her clearly worked.



After much arguing between Gene and himself, Sam finally managed to convince the bloody oath to allow Martha down to the school with them to take statements from any witnesses. Ray got the front seat of the Cortina; thank god he wasn’t put within pinching distance of Martha, while Chris, Martha and himself were wedged in the back. Again, Chris seemed a little embarrassed to be in such a close proximity to Martha; his ears were turning beetroot red. Thankfully Annie offered to stay behind; otherwise Martha would’ve ended up on Sam’s lap, which wasn’t a bad thought if he allowed himself to think it. But he didn’t, or rather tried not to and pretended he didn’t when he did, because he had Annie again. Oh sweet, kind Annie, whom made his heart skip a beat each and every time she came up to him.

The Cortina came to a lurching stop in front of the school and its contents clambered out onto the foot path.

            “Right, Raymondo; you and Chris can go and find out exactly who were getting their shirts wet in the mud playing cricket yesterday and line ‘em up. The Headmaster should be able to tell you where to find ‘em. Take them to a spare classroom. Me and Dorothy shall go to the sports department to find out exactly what sort of man Mr. Garland was before ‘e got ’is lights knocked out with a cricket bat,”

            “The victims name was Mr. Garland?” Martha chuckled quietly, ignoring the fiery glare she got from Gene for interrupting.

            “... then we’ll question those birds.”

            “Right you are Guv. Come on you useless div, off to inspect us some skirt!”

Chris and Ray started heading off into the building, their voices starting to fade out as they went through the doors.

            “God I hate teenage girls. The way they stare at you and their minds are all...”

Sam drew his gaze away from Laurel and Hardy and back to Martha and Gene. Martha had folded her arms; an eyebrow rose cynically.

            “And what about me, Detective Chief Inspector Hunt?”

            “You, Wonder-bosoms, get the great pleasure to sit out the front and look pretty while us men go in and do the real job,”

            “Don’t think so, Guv,”

            “I give the orders ‘round ‘ere, and you better follow them!”

            “I don’t take orders from demanding, sexist, racist, authority-abusing pigs like you. Trust me, I’ve got history. I’m coming inside with you whether you like it or not.”

            “Guv, just let her trail along. She won’t cause any trouble.” Sam cut in before World War Three started. He folded his arms and looked threateningly at the two bickering people, daring them to continue arguing.

Gene looked at Martha and grunted, but thankfully he didn’t say any more. Sam followed Gene as he strode into the school building, Martha hot on his heels.


I have been making a few icons over the past few days out of sheer boredom. Alas, they are here. They aren't the best, but they are passible. If you want to use one or more, just follow two simple rules:
1) Credit Me
2) Comment here and say which one(s) you'll be using.

If you don't comply with these rules I can and will track you down and send Bad Wolf on you with sporks. C'mon, it's just two simple rules.
Major Spoiler alert for mainly just S02E08 of Life on Mars

[9x Life on Mars icons] [1x Life on Mars banner] [1x Torchwood icon] [7x Doctor Who icons]

     Sam     TW
I know, I know, I haven't updated this thing in donkey's years. I've been meaning to, trust me, but something always manages to divert my attention.
School is being a bummer right now. Two assignments, mountains of homework, strange time table changes AND it's only week three. Plus, I've had no weekend. My weekend was taken up by a first aid course for Duke of Ed, held at my school from 9 to 5 both days. By the end of this week, I would have been at school for 14 days STRAIGHT! NUUUU! *stabbystabby* 
Regionals is on Sunday, getting my hair cut on Saturday, and Swimming Carnival on Monday. DID I MENTION I'M BUSY?! I was going to go to the beach with some friends on Saturday, but I misread my regionals note and thought it said it was held on Sat, so I said I couldn't go. Then I found out today it was on Sunday, and when I was about to ask my mum if I could go, she interrupted my before I could say anything and said "Oh, and I made an appointment at the hairdressers for Saturday, at around 3pm. They're giving us half price and all! You can even get it styled and blowdried!" Im like *jawdrop*. Why would I bother when I'm going to be swimming in a chlorinated pool on Monday? Oh, and the weather report said "COLD, WET AND WINDY FOR MONDAY" whoot.

On a happier note, Ashes to Ashes has started, Torchwood is half way through, House is returning tonight on Aussie screens and Doctor Who season 4 is coming sometime in the near future.

Oh, and for all those people waiting for an update on my Mystery Tour of 1973, I am so sorry for making you wait so long. Really am. That Unbelievable drabble I wrote sucked all remaining muse clean out of my system. Blerrgh. But I should have the next chapter within the month (month being the very latest). If anyone can suggest a way to make the cricket bat logically "ruby slippers", I would like, give you a sacred pineapple.

Oh and Valentines Day tomorrow! As if my week couldn't get any worse, they throw in Valentines Day to send me into a fit of depression and realisation of loneliness! yay. I never get anything anyway.

AND, last but not least, I am looking for a few betas. Any takers? Mostly for my MTof1973.

Tada Possums, I'm off to finish my maths homeword! SQUOOT! *coughnotethesarcasmcough*


*slight spoilers for Ashes to Ashes ep.1*


*wipes away tears*

I can't believe I wrote this! I really, really can't. I can't believe I even posted this. Unbelievable. Utterly unbelievable. Unbeta-ed.
This was one of those things where you close your eyes and write. Let all the emotions, thoughts, deceased sanity and heart out through your fingertips, disregarding spelling and grammar. That's what I did. And I don't know how it turned out. I really don't. Please tell me how it came across, even if literature or drabble isn't your thing. I am a descriptive writer; but does it make sense? Does it strike a cord?

Anyway; about it. I just saw Ashes to Ashes, the spin-off from Life on Mars. I like it, but I would like it even better if Chris hadn't changed from adorable clueless puppy-dog-like div to a racist loud div. He lost his cuteness. I hope he goes back to clueless soon because of Alex. Sam had an impact on him, so mabey Alex will too. And I'm going to miss the prowess of "doin' it by my book" Gene. He's even gotten polite. To a point. And I'm even going to miss the Test Card F girl and all her scariness. Although Zippy whathisname and the clown are freaky. And Sam knew how to tone things down a bit; between the line of madness and showing people you're mad.
Enough ramblings.
This can be anyone of CID, I guess. Who on earth wears a scarf? Nelson? Annie (although I did say "his scarf" but I'm willing to let you ignore that)? No clue.
Oh, and it's about Life on Mars, but you don't have to watch it to read this... although you should watch it; it's bloody fantastic.
I don't own Life on Mars nor Ashes to Ashes. If I did I would keep Sam in my telly and Chris could be my div-tastic puppy-dog. It belongs to the BBC.

To the drabble!

Rain sheets fell down on the car, a scarf pulled around his neck; a garish of colours against the black and white and sepia. Eyes close in an effort to forget, but only exacerbates the memory.
How could I forget that man who made my world burst into unimaginable shades and fluorescents of colour?
They never found his body.
Is that false hope? Don't give me pity, all I want to know is his heart, indefinitely.
Nothing is harsher than when life itself comes and goes without a definite end. Truth, alas, is the most unbelievable thing.
Let me go into the unbelievable.


 Title: The best gift comes wrapped in a blanket
Fandom: Torchwood 
Rating: G
Chapter: Just a drabble, so no chapters
Spoilers: Torchwood Episode 3 (To the Last Man standing) Season 2
Author's Comments: Umm, sorry, but this jumped on me after seeing To the Last Man Standing. A whole lot of fluff in this. Unbeta-ed, read at own risk.
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows. The BBC, Kudos does.



Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, her face flushed, but a beaming smile shone as she held out her hands. A tiny package was given to her, wrapped in a blue blanket. Gently she cradled the sleeping baby; stroking its cheek with her thumb.

            “It’s a healthy baby boy,” the nurse informed before heading off.

As the mother sat on the bed, the baby in her arms; a tear trickled down her cheek. She remembered the father; and his fate. Her brave handsome hero.

Tosh bent down and kissed him.

            “Oh, Tommy, you make this place so worth saving,”

Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 8

Title: (Previously "Life on Mars?") Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam...ish
Rating: PG
Chapter:  8/? 
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows. The BBC, Kudos does.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write. This is just a bit of a babble, not too much plot in this chapter, just mainly getting Martha and Sam out of the pit they fell in (not literally). Really a basically usless, plotless chapter. A big thank you to Wajoma for thinking up a new title for the story!
About: Sam and Martha chat over lunch, then Martha speaks to Annie about Sam.

            “Can I have a word?” Martha asked as she sat down next to Sam in the Cafeteria.

She was off the hook, as Gene decided to take her alibi seriously. That as well as the coroner had mentioned that the attacker was probably someone tall, about 6ft, and strong.

            “Sure,” Sam replied, squeezing some tomato sauce on the rather soggy chips.

            “Why did you say I was your wife? And how come this lot accept it so easily?” her voice lowered, so no one could eaves-drop.

            “It was the first thing that popped into my mind. Sorry. And everyone thinks I had amnesia from the car crash. So I assume that they think that my amnesia covered you. Besides, everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

Martha pinched a chip from his pile, grinning playfully. Sam felt a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth and batted her hand away, teasing.

            “Oi! Who said you could have one?”

            “So, what’s your story? Shed some light, perhaps?”

            “Basically, I was hit by a car in 2006, woke up in 1973, and all the while I was in 1973 I got the occasional voice and image from a 2006 hospital, like I was in a coma. Spent most of my time trying to get back to 2006, then when I did, I wanted to go back to 1973. The people here; and Annie, I couldn’t just leave them. I grew too attached. 2007, which it was by the time I got back, was so boring and sterile. So I jumped off the station’s roof and woke back up here.”

            “You jumped? What, just like that?”


Sam watched Martha’s puzzled face, amused. She appeared not to have any more of an idea of what was going on than he did.

            “I don’t remember any rifts in Manchester, maybe you fell into a Temporal Shift. They can pop up occasionally. But falling through it three times; how does that work?”

The way Martha’s tone in which she said it was like she expected him to know what it meant, or that it was as simple as counting to ten.


            “How did you become a DI here? I mean, you wouldn’t have had any valid identification on you, so how come?”

            “It was like my life was already set up. I had a background, parents, identification; the whole nine yards. It was almost as if they were expecting me to pop into 1973,”
            “You must have felt mad!”

            “I did.”

            “If someone knew you would fall into 1973, why be in such a hurry to send you home?”

Martha furrowed her brow and pinched another chip. Sam decided to find out a bit more about Martha now.

            “What did Jack mean about your cricket bat? It’s your ruby slippers?”

            “Absolutely no idea,” Martha giggled.

            “Who is he?”

            “Captain Jack Harkness,”

            “When did you meet?”

            “At the end of the universe, at the end of time itself,”


            “Are you interrogating me?”

            “Maybe,” Sam felt himself smiling, “Well I thought since you interrogated me, it was only fair, that I should ask you a few questions,”

            “But what’s going to happen? I mean, it’s not like we can keep up this marriage act. They’re going to find out sooner or later,”

            “Maybe we should get a divorce.”

            “But we’re not even married!”

            “How did you know Phyllis?”


            “How’d you know her?”
            “Oh. We met in 1946,”

            “What were you doing in 1946?”

            “Oh you know, just travelling around, happened to choose that place and date. Met some nasty aliens in 1946, called the Telagrot, and Phyllis helped us defeat them,”


Sam had the feeling that she was telling the truth, but how could one travel in time and choose where they end up? His mind flashed back to the big blue box. Just as he went to ask Martha if she knew what it was, Martha had caught sight of Annie.

            “Lets me talk to her. I know how much she means to you,”

And with that Martha followed Annie and sat down at her table, a friendly smile on her face.




Annie didn’t look up; she felt she might explode if she did. So instead she stared intently into her food.

            “I don’t know if we were introduced properly. So hi, my name is Dr. Martha-Joan Tyler, but you can call me Martha,”

            “WPC Annie Cartwright,” Annie felt her voice choke slightly as she answered. Before today she’d been practising her name as WPC Annie Tyler. She felt that Sam would propose any day. Until she came. Annie took a deep breath and looked up at Martha; her gaze as neutral as possible.

            “That’s a lovely name. I once had a friend called Annie,” Martha’s smile seemed to tremble. “Look, the last thing I want to do is upset you,”

            “You’re not upsetting me,”

Martha raised an eyebrow at this.

            “I thought you might like to know that Sam and I are thinking about getting a divorce. I mean, seriously, what use is a husband who can’t even remember our first date?” Martha laughed.

Now Annie was the one feeling surprised and sceptical.

            “I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’ve got two very good eyes you know. DI Tyler’s a great catch; you’d make a perfect couple,”

            “But he doesn’t look at me the same way. It’s like that crash sort of wiped all memory of me. If we continued, we’d pretty much have to start again,”

            “Then that’s what you do, start again,”

            “But why would he want to start again, when he’s already started with you? I’ve seen the way you look at him, the way he looks at you. It’s magical. What you two have got now is something Sam and I will never be able to have again,”

            “Are you doing this for me?”

            “I’m doing it for Sam and you. He loves you,”

Annie felt a bit surprised, to say the least. She’d been expecting a cat-fight from Mrs. Tyler, or at least a heated argument. But this was entirely different. Martha seemed friendly and sincere. Oh god, what to do?

            “You’d really divorce him just so we’d be together? Even the Pope isn’t this charitable!” Annie laughed, and Martha joined in.

            “I’d do anything to make him happy,”

Martha’s brown eyes were shining, twinkling even. Annie smiled; a real smile this time.

            “So would I.”


Wanted! (preferably alive)

The plot bunny has escaped. The hunt is on.

I was actually surprised I held it captive for that long. Usually it struggles from my grasp and bounds away within the first couple of chapters.
So there is probably either going to a wait between my next chapter in my LOM/DW fic, or the next chapter will be full of fluff, bitching between Annie/Martha, padded and pretty much pointless. And plotless. I think the idea of a "ruby slipper" cricket bat sort of zoned me out.

Three days... until I go back to school *tear* 
I'll be in year nine. Scary thought. Year nines are animals =O

I made a couple of icons for myself. Aren't they cute? *pokes converse* They are listed in my icons page, if I made it, the description says "Made by Me". Stroke of genious whoever worked that out without me telling them.

Tada Possums! I'm off to watch LOM! *


Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 7

Title: (Previously "Life on Mars?") Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam
Rating: PG
Chapter:  7/? 
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows. The BBC, Kudos does.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write more. I realised just then that I accidently changed the POV from Sam to Gene in the first couple of paragraphs. Whoops *headdesk* please ignore it, I'll change it later. This is just a bit of a babble, not too much plot in this chapter, just mainly getting Martha out of the pit she fell in (not literally).
About: Phyliss gets a blast from the past and Gene gets introduced over the phone to Captain Jack.

Sam led Martha into the station, unsure what to make of her. Was she just some loony from the street who’d tried to cover up a murder? But then again, how did she know how to find him, and how did she know of his situation? She seemed sane, apart from the odd remark. Not much different from himself, actually.

            “Mornin’ boss,” Phyllis greeted, not looking up from her paperwork.

            “Morning Phyllis,” he returned the greeting.

            “Phyllis? As in Phyllis Dobbs? Oh my God it’s you!” Martha exclaimed excitedly.

Phyllis looked up, recognition and joy dawning on her face. She stood up and walked around the desk, looking up and down at Martha.

            “Martha Jones! My word, you haven’t aged a day!”

            “You look pretty good yourself!” Martha smiled and embraced her warmly.

            “It’s been what, 27 years?”

            “I know, too long!”

            “Where’s the Doctor?”

            “He’s... not here.”

            “How’d you get here then?”

            “A friend dropped me off,”

            “You must have some pretty good friends! So what you doing down here this time?”

Sam coughed, drawing attention to himself.

            “Phyllis, Martha is my wife,”

            “You’re wife? If my memory serves me correctly, you were pretty keen on the Doctor. What happened?”

            “He never saw it that way. Anyway, that was a long time ago.”

Gene felt the need to cut in and stop this gibberish.

            “Oi! What you think this is, a CWA meeting? Lost and found, now!”

            “Is she a witness?”

            “No, a suspect.”

            “You’re joking! What the bloody hell for? Looking pretty? Martha couldn’t hurt a blooming fly!”

Gene grabbed Martha-Joan’s arm and went to pull her away.

            “Hey! Get your hands off me! I can walk myself down there!”

He followed the indignant Martha-Joan, who was following Sam to the Lost and Found. He glanced back at Phyllis, who was beaming from ear to ear. He’d never seen her that bloody happy before.


Gene sat down in his chair, scowling at Martha-Joan.

            “What were you doin’ for the past 24 hours?”

            “Is this your interrogation room? It looks more like the back of a pub!”

            “I repeat my question. What have you been doing in the past 24 hours?” he raised his voice and slammed his fist on the table.

            “Alright! Alright! I was at work, worked from 4pm to 6pm yesterday, did the night shift from 4 am, and then I made my way here.”

            “Where’s your work? And that still leaves the entire yesterday bleeding afternoon Sherlock,”

            “I work at the Royal Hope Hospital in London. And that was last night, my shift. So I was still in London when that murder took place.”

            “I didn’t know cleaners worked such demanding hours!”

            “Like I said before! I’m a doctor!”

            “Got any credentials, Nancy Drew?”

            “I left them on my coat and I left my coat in my locker at the hospital during my break,”

            “How bloody convenient!”

            “Martha is a doctor, Guv, I’d know. I’m her husband, remember?”

Gene shifted in his seat and moistened his lips with his tongue.

            “So, supposing you are a black medical bird, can anyone vouch for your alibi?”

            “Umm, oh wait! Jack was the last person to see me in the hospital. He popped down for a hello.”

            “Is there somehow we could contact Jack?” Sam piped up. He was being unusually quiet, the bloody poof.

            “Well, I have my mobile; I could give him a ring,”

            “Mobile what?”

            “Phone!” Sam and Martha exclaimed in unison, as if it were as obvious as Dame Edna’s fake tits.

            “What’s that?”

            “It’s like a phone, except its portable.”

Sam chuckled, obviously finding something funny.

            “It’s 1973... Darling. Mobiles don’t work. There are no networks, no signal. Besides, even if there was signal you couldn’t call across time!”

            “Yeah, but I have a Superphone. It can call anyone, anytime, throughout the universe, in any timeframe. The doctor made it do that for me,”

            “That’s amazing! How?” Gladys asked.

That twerp Tyler looked as though he was about to piss his pants in shock.

            “Don’t get me to explain it. Here, let me call him.”

Martha-Joan took out a small metal rectangular streamlined object and flipped it open. The “mobile” made a few noises and bleeps as she poked its insides. Finally she put it on the table and it made a small purring noise, like a muffled ringing phone.

            “I’ve put it on loudspeaker so we all can hear and speak to Jack,”

Someone must have answered the phone as a voice announced from the contraption,

            “Hello, Captain Jack Harkness speaking,”

He had an American accent and a flirty voice.

            “Hey Jack! It’s Martha!”

            “Oh hey Martha! Sorry, I was using my earpiece. I got your text just then though.”

            “Can you confirm the last time you saw me?”

            “That would’ve been at around, uh, 7am this morning in the Royal Hope Hospital, London. How come?”

            “I’m being suspected for murder,”

            “You’ve been in Manchester for what, under 3 hours and you’ve got yourself being a suspect? Wrong place, wrong time, eh?” Jack chuckled.

            “You chose the place and time, don’t you forget.”

            “How could I forget?”  

            “How am I going to get home Jack? Didn’t that cross your mind?”

            “Sam’ll get you home,”

            “This is DCI Gene Hunt. Are you done babbling nonsense even Picasso couldn’t make sense of?”

            “Nice to meet you DCI Gene Hunt. Are you as handsome as you sound?” Jack laughed flirtingly.

Gene almost fell off of his chair at the comment. There was no way he was going to let this poof flirt with him. If Jack had been in the room with him he would’ve punched him in the gut so hard that he would’ve flown around the world in 80 seconds. He looked at Martha-Joan, to see what her reaction was. She’d just slapped her palm onto her face and shook her head wearily.

            “Jack! Now’s not the time to flirt!”

            “Can’t I even say ‘Hello’?”

            “For you, that’s flirting!”

            “Quoting the Doctor eh?”

            “He was right though. A spot on calculation about you Jack.”

            “OI! Can we stay on bloody task for one bleeding minute? Martha-Joan, what the hell were you doing with a cricket bat? Picked it up from the oval, no doubt? Or do you just carry it around with you everywhere?”

            “You’d be surprised what a lady carries around in her purse. I once knew a girl who always kept a cookoo clock in her bag. Never quite found out why.”

            “Not helping Jack.”


            “But I can answer that one. I put it in your pocket, because Sam, well she told me to,”

            “Why? And who?”

            “It’s your ruby slippers, Martha. You’re ticket home,”

A ‘beep, beep, beep’ noise came from the mobile as Jack hung up.

Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 6

Title: (Previously "Life on Mars?") Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Sam/Martha
Rating: PG
Chapter: 6/? 
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write more.
About: Arriving at a murder scene, Gene soon starts to suspect Martha"-Joan".

They arrived at the scene of the crime in relative silence. Gene got out of the car and surveyed the scene. The skirt Cartwright was busy calming down witnesses, Ray was searching for evidence around the dustbins and Chris was looking at the body and chewing his cud. ‘That plod will need calming down herself in a moment’ Gene thought to himself. The scene of the crime was in a back-alley, nearby the sport oval. The dead bloke was lying on his back with a bloody big bruise on his head.

            “Oi sweetheart! What you think you’re doin’?” he demanded.

That wife of Tyler’s was crouching over the body, seemingly examining the dead blighter. To be honest with himself, he didn’t quite know what to make of the skirt. She was beautiful, he’d give her that. But something seemed, well, odd about her. Her shining brown eyes seemed somewhat haunted, like someone who’d seen too much. Her clothes were odd too, and her hair was spiked up in a bun. The fact that Dorothy hadn’t mentioned her, or remembered her could be put down to that amnesia from the car crash. After all, Tyler would never cheat on a skirt; he wasn’t that sort of man. He didn’t have the balls to do something like that. Poor plonk, having a husband who forgot about her.

            “The cause of death was probably the blow to the head. He’s been dead for at least 15 hours. The bruises on his knuckles suggest that he was in a fight. It looks like the murder weapon was a long blunt object. Like a plank of wood or something,” Martha-Joan was saying.

            “Who are you to decide that? The bleeding coroner?”

            “I’m a doctor,”

            “Don’t you mean a nurse?” that was Chris.

            “Why would a black bird like you be a doctor?”

            “Guv...” Sam trailed off sighing, “Sorry, you’d have to forgive his foul tongue Martha.”

            “No worries; I met Shakespeare.”

Gene felt baffled about her remark. That settles it; she’s as kooky as Gladys. He thought about her diagnosis; the only sane thing she’d said. His mind flashed back to when he’d burst into Dorothy’s flat to see Martha-Joan with a cricket bat, ready to strike her husband.

            “That weapon, could it’ve been a cricket bat?” Perhaps the reason why she knew so much about the dead man was because she murdered him.

            “Perhaps. Although I’d wait for the coroner to certify it,”

            “Where were you for the past 24 hours?”

            “What? You don’t think I did it, surely?”

            “Well my budgie certainly didn’t do it!”

            “There was some cricket training yesterday, Guv. Some birds from that high school, I think. The oval’s just ‘round the corner,” Ray interrupted.

Trust Ray to know when some pretty young skirts were playing in the mud.

            “You’re coming down to the station with us for some questionin’, Mrs. Sam Tyler,”

            “What?!” Martha-Joan and Cartwright said in unison.

            “Mrs. Tyler?” Annie looked puzzled, “Sam has a wife? When was I going to be told ‘bout this?”

            “Annie, I didn’t know,”

Sam went to start to explain but Annie brushed past the small group and walked as fast as those heels would let her around a corner. Gene blocked Sam’s way as he tried to follow the skirt.

            “Trust me Sammy-boy. There’s nothing more deadly than a skirt with her knickers in a twist. Better leave her to calm down and we’ll go to the station to question your missus.”


            “It wasn’t me! I was no where near here yesterday!”

            “Where did you get that cricket bat from? Stopped by for a bit of cricket, I guess? Carted it home to your delirious husband to give ‘im a quick whack on the noggin fer cheatin’ on you?”

            “I told you, I wasn’t here yesterday! In fact, the last time I was in Manchester was in 1946!”

            “Unless you can give me a solid alibi, you’re coming down to the station!”

            “You’re wasting your time. You’re going to question me while there’s a murderer on the loose?”

            “Guv, it couldn’t have been her.”

            “Can you account for her whereabouts, Sammy-boy?”

            “Not really,” he looked like he was going to make something up, but then reconsidered it because he’d been with Gene all yesterday in the station.

With that he hopped into the car, followed by a baffled Sam and Martha-Joan.