Doctor Who: The Poisoned Hearts

Hello and welcome to a short little Doctor Who story I've spent a few hours working on these past few days. It's a little rough around the edges (my kingdom for an editor), but I'm quite happy with it. It's public too, so feel free to share it around, just don't crop my name off or I'll set the Daleks on you. 

Oh, and Patreons, I recorded the whole experience of writing it, from blank page to finished story. These hour long each videos will be up once a day over the next six days! Experience the horror of writing, unedited, with bonus appearances of my very own self doubt! Yay!

So, sit back, relax, sit forward again because the font is too small, and enjoy this little unofficial Doctor Who Story, written by me with a lovely cover illustration from Rebecca to cap it off.

- Daniel
 

The Poisoned Hearts

By Daniel Hardcastle

Late 2019

“Excuse me,” the man with the floppy hair and neat suit said, the TARDIS translating his natural gallifreyan perfectly. “Do you know where I can find one of these?”

This mysterious man held up a battered cage, covered with an even more battered cloth. He slowly peeled away a corner of the fabric to reveal a creature nestled inside, fast asleep. The market trader nodded and pointed him deeper into the market. 

“Thank you, dearie.” The man said, his face splitting into a dangerously large smile as he suppressed the urge to start clapping with excitement. “You’ve been a wonderful help.” 

Dearie? He thought to himself as he walked away. That won’t do. I was in that last regeneration for far too long.

As the Master passed by stall after stall, occasionally stopping to steal something interesting looking, he kept an eye out for his target. His plan was simple enough. World domination. A classic. This time however, he had come up with something devious. Extra especially devious, with a whole scoop of monstrosity on top. He was going to turn the human race into a weapon. A weapon that, when it hurt, and oh will it hurt, would cause them to hug and talk and hurt them even more. Weaponised affection. The human race’s greatest weakness. 

He turned a corner and spotted what he was looking for. Cages, identical to the one he was holding, being loading onto a truck. Right, he thought, time for politeness again. The Master took a breath, held back the vomit, and approached with a smile he’d learnt from a crocodile.

“I think you dropped one!” he said, holding the cage aloft.

The man on the truck smiled, thanked him and loaded it with the rest of the cages. It matched the rest perfectly, the only difference being the incredibly infectious disease the Master had smothered his creature in. He laughed and waved as it drove away, then turned and headed back to his TARDIS, pausing only to knock a little girl’s bag of sweets onto the floor.

April 2020

The peace of Peace Gardens was shattered by a grinding noise so alien that the sight of the blue police box emerging from nothing seemed quite tame in comparison. As the TARDIS finished its materialization the final deep clunk of the engines echoed off of the Victorian town hall behind it and swept through the empty streets of Sheffield. 

Suddenly, the doors exploded open and the Doctor bound out, white coat glowing in the sunlight, arms stretched to the sky.

“SURPRISE!”

It took a little too long for the Doctor to realise that this wasn’t Graham’s birthday party. Or that this wasn’t even Grahams house. The Doctors arms slowly drooped in defeat.

“OK, so third time not the charm. I’m sure I’ve got the date right.”

The Doctor scrunched up her nose and dug about in her coat’s pockets looking for the invite. As she explored them, she pulled out and binned a seemingly endless supply of Werther's Original wrappers, out of date A-Z street maps and fifteen or so broken sonic screwdrivers.

“No, no, that’s not… ugh.” She pulled her hand out, revealing the particularly sticky wrapper which was clinging onto her fingers. 

“Right. That’s it,” she said sternly to her pockets, “After this party I’m making you all smaller on the inside. You hear me?”

Suddenly the Doctor froze. Heat was spreading from her face, across her body at an alarming rate. She recognised this sensation but couldn’t put her finger on it. Transmat beam? Sontaran missile lock on? A regeneration? It took her a moment but eventually she remembered what it was. 

It was embarrassment. 

“OK” She said, taking a step back from herself. “I’m threatening my pockets. Out loud. In public.”

She glanced around to take in the mood of her surroundings. You never know, she thought, they might have thought it was a one woman show. I might get applause! 

No applause came. In fact, nobody was around. As far as the Doctor could see, the streets of Sheffield where empty. Totally empty. Where was everyone?

Fear gripped The Doctor’s hearts as she entered battle mode. She flicked out her sonic screwdriver and begun scanning the sky. 

“Daleks!?” The sonic came back negative. She threw herself to the ground and listened through the grass. “Silurians!?” Nothing. Not a rumble. She jumped up and span around, holding her eyes open with as much force as she could. “Weeping Angels!?” This idea faded away when none of the local art installations leapt at her. What was going on?

Right, said the clever bit of her brain, cutting through wave after wave of hypothesis. You know what to do. First, find the fam. Second, work it out. Fourth, save the day.

Wait, another part of her brain chirped up, what happened to third?

You know us, the clever bit replied, there’s always an extra step. Might as well make room for it early until we know what it is.

Good idea.

With her mind made up, the Doctor did what she does best. 

She ran.

***

“Everything alright in here Mr Merton?” Yaz asked, poking her head into the doorway of the greengrocers.

From behind a stack of potatoes a ruddy, smiling face appeared.

“Lovely, thank you Officer Khan.” Mr Merton replied.

“Brill, call us if you need anything.” Yaz said, giving a thumbs up.

Mr Merton returned the gesture before disappearing back to whatever was going on behind the potatoes. Yaz left the store, and before she could step down onto the pavement was grabbed on her shoulders by the heavily panting woman standing before her.

“YAZ!” The Doctor yelled loud enough that Mr Merton dropped a potato in surprise. “What’s going on?!”

“Doctor?” Before Yaz could add anything more, the Doctor had glanced into the store and seen the potatoes. 

“SONTARANS! GET DOWN!” The Doctor stepped in front of Yaz, aimed her Sonic Screwdriver at the topmost potato, causing it to explode and cover kind old Mr Merton and his few customers in a starchy mess. The Doctor winced, apologised and returned to the conversation with Yaz.

“Is everything alright Doctor?” Yaz asked, slightly concerned. “Only you just attacked a vegetable.” 

The Doctor turned back to Yaz, her eyes wide and darting around furiously. “Yaz,” she said, “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they’re all at home.” Yaz said, unphased. She stepped past the Doctor and started to walk down the high street. “Come on, I’ve got to finish my patrol. I’ll explain as we go.” Yaz turned back to the Doctor. “Oh, and could you stay two meters away from me. Social distancing and all that. Actually, can you even get sick?”

“Sick?” The Doctor said following Yaz. “Home? Everyone?” 

It clicked. The Doctor took a sharp breath. 

“Pandemic!”

“Pandemic.” Yaz confirmed. 

The Doctor stopped, a trillion thoughts trying to escape. One wiggled free and she looked Yaz up and down.

“Is that outfit new?” The Doctor asked, pointing.

“It’s my police uniform.” Yaz sighed, having long since resigned herself to having this conversation at least once every few months with the Doctor.

“Oh.” The Doctor said, a little disappointed. “I thought you were trying to be trendy.”

“In illuminous yellow with black and white checks?” Yaz said, gently offended.

“I said trying.” A second thought escaped. “Wait, no, sorry, Pandemic?”

“Yep, thousands of people are sick all across the world. That’s why everyone’s staying home. We’re stopping it spreading as best we can.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” The Doctor offered just as a man wandered out of the shop nearby.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, holding up several large shopping bags. “You can give me a hand with these.”

***

Ryan knocked on the window of Ms. Winterbottom’s flat, scaring the poor old dear slightly until she saw who it was. He pointed down at the bags of shopping he’d left outside, gave a thumbs up and headed back to the stairs with the Doctor.

“She’s promised me a freshly baked apple pie when this is all over” Ryan bragged gently. “I told her not to bother but she insisted and, hey, who am I to turn down a free apple pie?”

The Doctor laughed. “Remind me to never take you to planet Terlotka. The creatures there wear pastry as a protective shell. Best smelling planet in the universe!” She indicated in front of them. “Stairs again?”

“Yeah,” said Ryan. “They can be a little bit of trouble for me, but at least I’m not having to touch buttons or anything.” He stopped and put the remaining shopping bags down. “That reminds me, time to wash our hands again.”

Ryan pulled out the alcohol gel from a pocket and started to rub it into his hands. The Doctor waved her sonic over herself. 

“Does that really work?” Ryan enquired, still rubbing.

“Of course!” The Doctor exclaimed. “Removes every scrap of bacteria and anything else nasty from my skin. Cleans my clothes and the sonic too! Oh, it also has a new setting that brushes my teeth for me!” She demonstrated this by breathing directly into Ryan’s face. 

“Minty.” Ryan replied, simultaneously impressed and a little weirded out. “I’ll stick to the gel.”

“That’s for the best. It’s calibrated to this body so who knows what it would do to you.” The Doctor zoned out staring at the screwdriver for a while, wondering exactly what it would do. She snapped out of it as they reached the bottom of the staircase. “So, where next?”

Ryan thought about it for a second. “Uh, this way,” He pointed with his bags. “Really grumpy old sod, but hey, we’re helping everyone who needs it.”

“That-a boy.” The Doctor beamed. “Ryan Sinclair, saviour of the world!”

“Ryan Sinclair, volunteer.” He corrected her. “I’m just helping a local charity while the warehouse is closed.”

“Saviour of the world. Volunteer. Nope, don’t see the difference.” The Doctor said, pride filling her hearts. 

They walked on a little further, Ryan talking about how his NVQ has been delayed, the Doctor listening while counting the pictures of rainbows that people had hung in their front windows. Eventually they stopped at a crossing. 

“Right,” Ryan said, checking that the Doctor was holding the correct shopping bags. “I’m off this way to deliver this lot. You head down there. Number 36. Watch out, he’s a terror. Thanks Doctor!” 

The little man on the traffic light turned green, so he quickly crossed the road before turning back and yelling.

“Oh, and first thing when this is all over, Planet Terlotka!” He waved and walked off leaving the Doctor to face the terrifying old man on her own.

***

“Graham!” The Doctor exclaimed as a familiar face emerged at the window after a short skirmish with the net curtain. 

“Doc!” Graham exclaimed back excitedly, slightly muffled by the single glazed window. “What… what are you doing here?”

The Doctor lifted up the shopping bags. “Home delivery! I’ll just leave it by your door.”

Suddenly, the Doctor flung herself backwards, dropping the canvas bags and aiming the sonic at Graham through his window. “Graham. Stay very still.”

Graham tensed up. What was it now? Another giant spider invasion? He’d only just recently got back up the courage to go into the loft.

The Doctor kept sonicing. “Graham, listen very closely and trust me.”

Graham nodded, rooted to the spot. “O… Ok Doc, I’m listening.”

“I’m pretty sure…” The Doctor paused, choosing her words very carefully. “I’m pretty sure you’re turning into a cat.”

The look of terror on Grahams face was ousted by his regular look of confusion. “A …cat?” 

“Tell me Graham,” The Doctor continued. “Have you recently been to New Earth?”

“New Earth?” Graham sputtered, “I’ve not left the house in a month!”

Without warning, the curtains next to Graham pulled themselves back and a little boy appeared, his face painted to look like a tiger.

“Graham, who you talking to?” The child asked politely. 

“Cat child!” The Doctor yelled, swiping her screwdriver rapidly through the air between the two of them. “Get back Graham.”

“What… OH!” Finally, it dawned on Graham. “Doc, we’ve just painted our faces for fun. Mikey here is a tiger, I’m a cat and little Dawn back there on the sofa is one of them superhero lot.”

The Doctor lowered her screwdriver and glimpsed inside the house. Sure enough, behind them was a small girl covered in red and yellow face paint sitting on the sofa, playing with an Action Man. 

Graham continued. “These are Debbie’s kids, one of Grace’s old friends from the NHS. She’s a single mum you know so I offered to take them in for a bit. With the schools closed, her long night shifts and all that, this is safest for the lot of us. Besides, I’ve got to stay home anyway, what with my...” He gave himself a second before brightening up, “We’ve been having fun though, haven’t we kids?”

Mikey yelled in agreement while Dawn started to colour in the Action Man’s face. The Doctor put away the sonic. 

“Sorry, bit of a weird day. I blew up a potato. Anything I can do?” she asked.

“Nah, we’re alright Doc. The community is helping us out with food and between the face paints, TV shows and those game machines they have we’re getting through the days.” He turned back to the kids, “In fact, we’ve got a video call with your mum coming up haven’t we!”

Mikey danced around the room whooping. Dawn drew a smiley face onto the Action Man. 

“We’re good Doc!” Graham said, genuinely. “We’re good.”

“Right” said the Doctor, tidying up the shopping and putting it on the doorstep. “All my fam are dealing brilliantly with this so, if you’ll excuse me Graham, there’s probably a bunch of very clever and very overworked scientists around the world who could do with a little bit of help.” She turned to leave. “Bye Kids!”

Graham banged on the window. “Oi, Doc! Wait up.” He disappeared from the window and, after a few clicks, opened the front door. He waved at the timelord at the foot of his drive. “Thanks for the shopping!”

The Doctor grinned, gave a thumbs up and wandered off back to her TARDIS. 

In the near future…

The Master’s TARDIS silently landed in a handicap parking space, deep in the heart of London. He kicked open the doors and welcomed his new, broken civilization with open arms. 

He was then almost hit by a bus.

The Master staggered back, bumping into his TARDIS, currently taking the form of a statue of himself, and looked around with murder in his insane eyes. 

“What…”

There were people. Everywhere. Stinking, perfectly healthy humans. Cars clogged up the roads next to him and above them aircraft tore across the sky, taking their occupants all across the world. All around him were people. Talking. Hugging. Breathing.

“WHAT?!”

How could this be? His plan, what had happened to his plan? Furiously, he screamed and grabbed a nearby commuter.

“Why are you alive? Where are you going? ANSWER ME!”

“Umm…” the man stammered, only slightly surprised by these events, he was a Londoner after all. “I’m off to my first day at work.”

“First… day… at… work!?” The Master snapped. He clotheslined a passing cyclist before grabbing the commuter again.

“Tell me where you work.” The Master said quietly as murder filled each and every syllable to the brim. “I’m going to have to burn the entire building down to the ground to get some of this anger out of my system.”

“I s-s-shouldn’t say.” His victim stammered.

“TELL ME!” The Master screamed so loud that even a few non-tourists looked round.

The commuter reached into his pocket and pulled out an ID badge. He showed it to the Master who snatched it out of his hands. 

“MI6,” The man said. “You know, the spy agency?”

The Master stared at this ID badge, then very, very slowly stared back at the man in the exact same way that an asteroid stared at the last dinosaurs.

“Oh.” The Master said, smiling.

THE END