March and the Doctor

March tripped to a halt as she heard a laugh crash behind her, followed by Harland's scream of fright. She caught herself quickly, turning on the heel of her boots. Her eyes widened.

A telephone cord was choking him. A telephone cord! March, ignoring the voice inside her screaming get out!, and the question why anyone still had a phone with a cord, darted forward, wrapping a hand around a cord by his neck, and began to un-wrap it.

“Hold on!” She told the man, gritting her teeth. Harland's eyes with a mixture of fright and urgency. March rolled her own eyes. Only he would still be concerned with catching her. She screamed when a few cords unwrapped themselves from Harland, and started to cut off her own blood circulation.

The two wrestled with the cords, slowly stumbling towards the ballroom, where all the guests where. What if they fell down the stairway? What if the cords started to attack other people?

When they came into the room with the great chandeliers, March's head shot up. “Good god...” She muttered softly. All other technical equipment was trying to, it seemed, kill everyone else as well.

A door flew off it's hinges, down the landing. “HAH!” Someone shouted. March was met with the sight of a man in a blue suit, with red converse and unusual hair. He pointed a silver item at the nearest killer cell phone, pressing a black button on the side. The end lit up, and a sonic-sounding wave was emitted as the cellphone fell, sparking and whirring, to the floor.

He looked up, seeing March and Harland wrestling with the phone cord. Doing the same as he did with the other guest and the cell phone, the phone cord fell to the ground, the two stumbling and falling to the ornate rug as well.

The man in the suit grabbed March's hand in his, pulling her to her feet. Harland was pulled up, having grabbed onto March's shoulder, probably going to say something about her being arrested.

“Who the heck are you?” March blinked at the man in the suit.

He grinned. “I'm the Doctor.”

Said girl blinked. “What?”

*

“We're in medieval times?” March asked, blinking.

“Of course! Didn't you pay attention in History class?” the Doctor said smiling, looking around the busy street.

“But...Doctor, they didn't have plumbing back then.” March frowned. “Or now. Or...oh this is confusing.”

The Doctor looked down at her, confused. “But they didn't have plumbing.”

“Then what on earth's that?”

*

March followed the Doctor in crouching quickly behind the bookcase, watching the procession of people pass by.

“Do they work here?” March hissed.

“Presumably.” the Doctor nodded.

An estimate of what looked like 12 people passed by, no obvious expression on their faces. March's jaw dropped. The last two people weren't exactly...people. One with barely any hair, pale blue skin, and bright white glowing orbs for eyes. The second same, but with pale green skin and glowing red eyes. They both wore white robes, their hands folded.

The blue one turned around, looking exactly where the Doctor and March were. In a erie voice, that seemed to echo slightly, it said- “Skulking now, are we?”

March gulped.

*

The Doctor walked into the main console room of the TARDIS to find the doors open, revealing the milky way. March sat cross-legged at the opening, staring into literal space. The Doctor leaned against the console, tilting his head slightly.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Thinking.” March said without turning.

“Okay.” the Doctor nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“I'm an artist. We work when we're looking into space. Now I can do it literally..” the girl turned around, her face screwed up. “And as for the door...well, there aren't really any windows. You should get a window in the TARDIS.”

*

*

*

The Doctor in his eleventh regeneration laughed, flipping various switched on the new TARDIS console. He looked over to to wall next to the doors, and grinned.

“A window! March would've loved that!”

________________________________

This...well, this doesn't really mean anything. Just had a few dreams and needed to write them down into something that made sense. Kind of. Will most likely NOT turn into a real story. 

But it IS a good idea, isn't it?

Any Questions?