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Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 11

 Title: Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam, Sam/Annie
Characters: (this chapter) The Doctor, The TARDIS, Chris, Martha and Jack.
Rating: PG
Chapter: 11/? 
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. Is anyone actually still reading this? Or have you all given up on me? I don't know; no one seems to comment any more. And lets make this clear; I have seen a letterbox on a roof. Bizzare.
Note: The grey text is what has happened in the past... in a wibbly wobbly timey-whimy sense. In... Martha's past; like before it was asked for her to go to 1973. That... made no sense
About: Two reflect on the past while two search for the ridiculous.

Previous Chapters:  Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter FourChapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter 10

The Doctor stepped quietly around the consol room, his bent head wistfully, studying the control panels, his long slender fingers brush past the buttons. The TARDIS purred around him softly, waiting for his ceremonious command. But no command came; at least not yet.

            “Old girl,” he finally said, whispering the words through half-smiling lips, “I’m so alone. These wings of solitude are growing old and brittle.”

He ran a pensive hand over the central column, his brown eyes sad. Then his jaw tensed, lips pursed and brow furrowed. His eyes locked down onto the monitor and he typed in the coordinates.

            “I'm coming. I’m coming; and the world better watch out as these old wings are going to soar to your side.”




Martha strode out of the school building swiftly; only pausing to allow Chris to catch up as he scampered down the stairs and onto the frosty grass. The letterbox was the only lead so far in this obscure mission; it was so weird, it had to be related.

            “Which way to the oval?” she asked in a commanding tone.

            “Ah...” Chris’s face screwed up in concentration, “This way,” he nodded.

            “Then let’s go!”

Martha jogged off towards the direction that Chris nodded in, twisting her upper body after a few strides to look back at Chris.

            “I said, ‘Let’s go!’”

            “Do we have to run?”

            “No duh.”


            “Come on! Nice slow jog for your cardiovascular system. Good for the health.”

She smiled, amused at the naive lad and continued running; this time with him alongside her.




            “Is this the oval? Blimey. Not much to look at really; a bit churned up and muddy eh?” Martha stood at the rim of the oval and surveyed it critically, “Smack bang in the middle of housing. Like a needle in a hay stack. Keep your eyes peeled for any letterboxes atop rooves, okay?”

            “Yes boss.”

Martha raised an eyebrow and looked at the div. Chris’s mismatched eyes widened in terror as his mind registered what he said.

            “I mean... Mrs. Tyler!”

            “Just call me Martha.” She chuckled softly, turning her gaze back to the rooves and strolled out to the middle of the oval where the cricket pitch was; Chris stumbling at her heels.

            “Lets just say Sarah was standing here when she saw the letterbox,”

            “Uh, why was she standing here?”

            “Because it’s the most probable place for her to stand when playing cricket.”

            “She could’ve been fieldin’.”

            “It’s also the middle of the oval. Best view-point to find what we’re looking for in,” she paused to look at Chris; making sure he was still following her.

            “But I still don’t see it.”

            “You can’t expect to see it straight away. Sometimes it takes a while.”


At least five minutes passed, and still no sign of a letterbox on a roof. An icy current of wind tore past the exposed expanse of mud and seemed to zap any lingering warmth out of the two figures. Shivering, Martha cast one last sweeping glance across the rooves.

            “Maybe she didn’t really see it.” She sighed. Sarah must have made the whole thing up.

            “What? It’s invisible?” Chris asked, confused.

Martha felt an idea slap into her head. Of course! If the letterbox was hidden by a perception filter, then it wouldn’t be noticeable. Sarah must have had something on her which broke the perception filter. Like... Martha felt around in her pockets hastily; almost squeaking with delight when her fingers closed around what she was after. She pulled it out and looked at it tenderly, running her hands over the smooth willow; a cricket bat.

            “A cricket bat?” Chris asked bewildered, echoing her thoughts.

But Martha paid no attention to this comment; instead she thought of what to do next.

            “Sh’ was playing cricket,” Chris appeared to be reasoning with Martha’s actions.

            “Oh Chris, I could kiss you!” She exclaimed, a beaming smile in her cheeks, “See, what if the letterbox was hidden by a perception filter? Sarah was playing cricket with a cricket bat when she saw it. The cricket bat must have broken the perception filter, a bit like a TARDIS key does to the TARDIS. So if I stand here...” Martha stepped back onto the cricket pitch, looking back to the rooves; cricket bat firmly in her hands.

            “Wait. Wh- how did that fit in yer pocket?”

            “I see it!” Martha squealed, jumping up and down on the spot, before launching at Chris and enveloping him in a tight hug.

Chris seemed to stiffen as her arms wrapped around him, her legs bent and left the ground, leaving him to take her weight; but he relaxed as he caught some of her contagious joy.

            “I SEE IT!” Martha laughed gleefully, before sighing contentedly and releasing Chris from her bear-tight embrace.

The smile eased off Chris’s face to be replaced by confusion.


            “That one.” Martha stretched her hand out and pointed to the house, “Come on.”

            “Does that mean run?”

            “Race you there!”




Jack rotated around slowly on his chair, cobalt eyes lost in thought. He furrowed his brow and pulled out a draw in his desk; searching through it determinedly. Shuffling through some old photographs in the bottom of the draw; he paused as his eyes rested on the one he was looking for. A small smile crept into his cheeks as he caressed the laminated surface. The slam of a door dragged Jack out of his reverie. Hastily, he shoved the photograph back into the draw and pushed it shut.

            “Everything all right Jack?” Ianto asked Jack, a concerned look on his face.

            His gaze dropped to the desk, “Everything’s... fine,” came the profound reply.

            “Right... Well Tosh picked up a rift spike that she thinks we should check out.” Ianto’s eyes searched Jack’s face, “We’ll see you in the SUV then, okay?”