(Awesome prompt! I have done another Molly/Doctor prompt, which is here. Thank you so much - I hope you like it!)

…

The Doctor flung the morgue door open, striding inside and looking around. “Sherlock? I need you! The Zoogonians are attacking - you’re the only one smart enough to help.” he paused. “Sherlock? Are you in here?”

“He’s gone. Can I help you?”

The Doctor turned around. A small blonde woman in a hideous Christmas jumper and long white lab coat stood before him, wringing her hands nervously. The Doctor beamed at her, adjusting his tie.

“Hello! Can you tell me where to find Sherlock?”

“Um, he might be at the Yard, but then again he might be on a case. You don’t want to disturb him when he’s on a case.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Yes, I know that all too well!” he glanced around again. “I need him… dash it, I need a companion… this is so inconvenient…”

“A companion?” the blonde asked.

“Yes! My right hand, my left hand, my eyes and ears. Someone to run with, someone to stop me, someone to help me stop this invasion.” he froze, then slapped his face with his hand. “THE INVASION! I have an idea!”

The Doctor ran around the lab, looking into beakers and picking up vials of chemicals. He worked swiftly, pouring chemicals and solutions into one big pot. The blonde walked closer, watching him in awe.

“What’s your name?” the Doctor murmured over a pink beaker.

“Um, Molly. Molly Hooper.”

The Doctor glanced over her, then went back to his beaker. “Are you smart?”

“I suppose, yes.” Molly smiled. “I don’t like to boast, really, but I am smarter than a lot of people.” she puffed out her chest, feeling important.

“Brilliant!” the Doctor grinned at her. “Being smart is great, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, I suppose.” Molly beamed.

The Doctor turned back to his work. The pot was now overflowing, glowing green and starting to smoke. He grinned at it.

“Perfectomundo! And I am never saying that again.” he looked at Molly. “Do you want to be my companion?”

“What do I have to do?”

“Whatever I tell you.”

“So you don’t actually have a plan?” Molly smirked.

“Not as such.” the Doctor shrugged. “But would you like to come with me?”

“Um…” Molly glanced around the lab, then took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“Alright.”

“We might die.”

Molly raised an eyebrow. “We might not.”

The Doctor grinned. “Well then! Allons-y, Molly!” he grabbed the pot and ran outside, Molly following close behind him.

(This is so late and I’m so so sorry! I adore Fezturion, so thank you so much for the prompt :) I hope you like it!)

…

Amy twirled round in the TARDIS wardrobe, admiring the green Victorian dress she’d plucked from the rails. This place was a child’s (or a kissogram’s) dream – cosplay outfits and proper clothes displayed on racks that stretched for miles. There were even sections for different time periods. Amy had found herself in the 1800s by mistake, and now she was gazing at her reflection, wondering which era she should try next.

Thump.

Amy looked up. The muffled thump had come from the ceiling, succeeded by a few groans. Amy wondered what kind of space mice could groan like that. Her daydreams of space mice in little astronaut suits was shattered by a loud:

“Rory!”

Amy frowned and, forgetting her outdated attire, ran upstairs, stopping outside the Doctor’s bedroom. Hushed, passionate voices whispered through the thin door.

“Doctor… d-don’t stop…”

“Amy will be here any- OH! Rory, I- oh!”

Amy shuddered. She jiggled the door-handle, but it was obviously locked. At the sound of the rattling handle, the thumping and talking stopped, replaced by frantically rustling sheets. Amy growled and pushed her whole body weight against the door, breaking into the room. She froze.

Clothes littered the floor; a lamp was knocked over, lighting the side of the bed and casting a dim glow over the rest of the room. Two men with shirts but nothing else on were tangled on the bed, trying to get out of the sheets and failing. The Doctor and Rory blushed crimson when they saw the red-head staring at them.

“Amy!” Rory yelped. “It’s- it’s not what it looks like!”

The Doctor sat up slowly, re-buttoning his shirt. “He’s right. Rory was simply helping me get dressed.”

“And undressed, so it seems.” Amy muttered.

“Amy, I’m so sorry.” Rory squeezed his eyes shut, trying to wake up from this nightmare.

Amy crossed her arms. “How long has this been going on?”

The Doctor finally untangled himself and slid off the bed, covering his modesty with his hands. “Four months.”

Amy felt a flash of anger – it was that long?! She grimaced, putting a hand to her face. “I assumed as much. Didn’t know it’d be that long, but I thought something was up.”

“Amy, I-”

“Save it, Rory. We’ll talk later.” Amy shot Rory a glance. “I’ll let you… finish.”

“Aren’t you mad?” Rory blinked.

Amy chuckled. “Oh Rory. I’m furious!”

And with that, Amy Pond left the room, leaving the Doctor and Rory completely terrified.  

YOU GUYS DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH I SHIP FEZTURION

I MEAN

I SHIP EVERYTHING

BUT FEZTURION

IF I HAD ONE

IT WOULD BE MY OTP

(Such a cool prompt!! Thank you! :D I hope you like it!)

…

“Sir, there’s someone asking to see you.”

“A member of the public? We’re at a crime scene!” Lestrade sighed into his phone.

“I know, but he’s persisting.”

Lestrade glanced through the top-floor window of the house, and saw a tall man in a bow-tie waving up at him.Lestrade grinned.

“Should I send him up, sir?”

“Nah, I’ll come down. Thanks.” he clicked the ‘end call’ button and gestured to John.

“What’s up?” the army doctor smiled serenely.

“There’s a man downstairs I need to meet. Finish up here and we’ll go.”

John nodded. “Okay. Sherlock?” he called. “Come on.”

Sherlock leapt away from the carpet, muttering something about a second stain. The three men walked downstairs – and Lestrade was instantly engulfed in a blur of tweed, floppy hair and randomness.

“RIDDELL!” the blur cried.

“Hello, Doctor.” Lestrade smiled.

The Doctor stepped back, admiring Riddell’s new look. “You’ve got a bit of grey in your hair. And you’re a policeman! I knew a policewoman. Well. Kissogram. Well. Anyway.”

“Riddell?” John frowned.

The Doctor turned to John. “Hello! I’m the Doctor.” he glanced at Sherlock, who frowned, then turned back to Lestrade. “So, are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Lestrade blinked.

“The mission.” the Doctor looked like he was bursting with energy and happiness.

“Alien.” Sherlock announced suddenly.

Everyone turned to him.

“What are you on about?” John sighed.

“He’s an alien.” Sherlock pointed at the Doctor.

“Sherlock, leave it.” Lestrade frowned.

“No. He’s an alien.” Sherlock grinned.

The Doctor sighed. “By your standards, yes. Can we please get back to the mission?”

John was getting more confused by the second. “What?”

“The mission!” the Doctor sighed.

By now, everyone at the scene was staring at them, some of them recording the event on their phones as usual. The Doctor put a hand to his forehead.

“Look. Your friend here is really a man named Riddell, a hunter from the 1900s. He came with me to help on a mission a long time ago, or in the future, depending on your concept of wibbly-wobbly. He came here to start a new life, but now I need him again.” the Doctor crossed his arms.

The entire explanation went over John’s head. “What.”

“Okay.” Sherlock nodded. “So what can we do?”

“You’re not coming!” the Doctor frowned. “I only need Riddell.”

“What’s going on?” Anderson entered the hallway and sneered. “Who’s the freak?”

Lestrade clenched his fists. “Anderson, go stand in the corner!” he yelled.

The chatter of the officers fell silent, and Anderson flinched back. Lestrade gulped.

“Sorry. Just… shut up. The Doctor is a friend. I trust him with my life.” Lestrade turned back to the Doctor, who looked somewhat sad. Lestrade smiled. “I follow him, and so should you.”

There was a pause before Sherlock smiled at the Doctor, drawing John and Lestrade slightly closer to him. “So, Doctor. We follow you. What’s our mission?”

The Doctor smiled. “It’s tricky and weird and quite possibly dangerous.”

Lestrade’s smile grew. “Brilliant.”

(REBLOGGABLE FOR LE ANON!)

…

“These guys are nothing like the Silence.” the Doctor frowned. “They’re deadly, and you will definitely remember them when you see them.”

“Name?” Canton asked.

“Slitheen. They’re a family, not a species, from Raxacoricofallapatorius – they hunt using their sense of smell.” the Doctor explained.

Canton grinned. “From where?”

“Raxa- I’m not repeating myself.”

Canton’s face fell, but his eyes still sparkled, and the Doctor grinned at him. The two of them, and three other soldiers, were stood in the White House, waiting for the Slitheen to arrive. The new President had been taken over by one of the big green aliens, and Canton had called in his best man – the Doctor. Right now, the Oncoming Storm was sat with his legs up on a desk, eating Jammie Dodgers and instructing the few remaining soldiers on how to kill a Slitheen. Their guns had been replaced by water pistols filled with vinegar. The Doctor smiled every time he saw one.

“Huuumaaans!” a silky, stuttering voice echoed through the room.

Everyone jumped – the Doctor leapt out of his chair, running to stand in front of his friends. Canton trained his water pistol at the door.

“I can smell yoooou!” a big green alien hooked its long claws around the door, opening it slowly. It grinned as it spied the soldiers. “Aha! Hello!”

“OPEN FIRE!” Canton yelled.

“NO!” the Doctor shouted.

Too late – the soldier squirted the vinegar at the alien, who just blinked and shrugged.

“Is that your plan?” the Slitheen gurgled. “Pretty rubbish, isn’t it?”

“You said vinegar would work!” hissed one of the soldiers.

The Slitheen honed in on him. “Mm, you smell lovely.”

The alien picked up the soldier, snapping his neck as easily as a child snaps a twig. It grinned, swiping the other two soldiers to the floor with its huge claw.

“Wait, wait!” the Doctor gasped. “Hold on a tic!”

“What now?” the Slitheen whined. “I’m having fun!”

“Doctor, let’s go!” Canton growled.

“The Slitheen family-” the Doctor started, but Canton hauled him away just in time – the Slitheen aimed a blow to the Doctor’s head, but missed.

“Blast.” it muttered.

The Doctor and Canton pelted down the corridors, into the Oval Office. They slammed the doors shut and hid underneath the desk, panting heavily.

“Vinegar should have worked!” the Doctor yelped.

Canton gritted his teeth. “Well it didn’t. So what now?”

The doors flew open, the Slitheen stepping in happily. “Huuuumans! Humans! Come out, come out wherever you are!”

“No time.” Canton whispered.

“For what?”

Canton grinned and grabbed the Doctor’s face, pulling him in for a deep, if quick, kiss. The Doctor pulled away, blinking. There was a pause, the Slitheen’s taunts blurring into the background as Canton and the Doctor stared at each other. Canton coughed.

“Sorry.” he shrugged, not looking sorry at all.

“’S fine.” the Doctor smiled. “But… uh… Slitheen.”

“Right.” Canton grinned. “Later, maybe?”

The Doctor glanced over at the Slitheen, then back at Canton. He grinned.

“Maybe. RUN!”

(FEZTURION OTP YES. Thank you for the prompt – I hope you like it!)

…

“Doctor, this really really needs to stop.” Rory sighed.

“What does?” the Doctor blinked.

Rory bit his lip. “The kissing.”

“I thought you liked the kissing! Everyone else does.” he paused. “Did.”

Rory gritted his teeth. The TARDIS groaned as the two men stood in silence, the orange light of the console flickering on their faces. The Doctor smiled.

“So what’s wrong with it?” the Doctor asked.

“It’s not… It’s not you. It’s everyone else. They might take it the wrong way.”

“What way?”

“They might think we’re a couple.” Rory explained.

The Doctor laughed. “We are a couple!”

Rory’s jaw dropped. “No, we’re not!”

The Doctor grinned. He placed a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Don’t deny it, Rory.”

“I-”

The Doctor lunged forward, pressing his lips to Rory’s. The blond jumped back, but the Doctor stepped with him, curling his hands around Rory’s waist and pulling him towards himself. Rory squeezed his eyes shut. They stood there for a moment, the Doctor feeling Rory’s sides gently, his tongue casually flicking between Rory’s lips to caress his teeth. Rory whimpered, his knees buckling. The Doctor grinned and released the man, stepping backwards.

“So what was wrong with that?” he asked innocently.

Rory shuffled away from the strange man, wringing his hands. “So, so, um… where are we going now?”

The Doctor frowned. “What?”

“I mean, anywhere in time and space.” Rory was going red now, pointedly staring at the TARDIS controls. “I’d like to go back to Egypt or something… I didn’t get a good picture of the Sphinx…”

“Rory.”

“Or the Great Pyramid. I wonder if there’s any treasure inside!”

“Rory!”

“What?!”

The Doctor grinned, pulling him into another kiss. This one was swift, restrained, letting Rory control it rather than the Time Lord. Rory smiled, deepening the kiss, then stepped back, wiping his mouth furiously.

“You’re insane.” Rory laughed.

“Cool.” the Doctor beamed.  

(Well I love it anyway, it’s fantastic :) awesome prompt! I hope you like it!)

…

“Welcome to the TARDIS, Neville!” the Doctor beamed.

Neville gulped, hanging onto his toad, Trevor, for dear life. The huge TARDIS console loomed before him, and it was all he could do not to faint. Hogwarts was strange enough without this! It had begun with a crash – Neville had been in the Gryffindor common room, reading alone in the dark, when the strange blue box had appeared. The man in the blue suit had toppled out, complaining that the coordinates must be off. When Neville had told him his name, the man had grinned and pushed him inside the box, claiming to be a big fan of his work.

“S-Sir, who are you?” Neville gaped at the Doctor.

“I’m the Doctor, I told you.” he smiled. “Now then!” he flicked a few switches. “Where do you want to go?”

Neville blinked. “Sorry, sir?”

“Don’t call me sir.” the Doctor grimaced.

“Sorry, sir. Sir! Oh dear.” Neville hung his head. He realised that he was still wearing his pyjamas.

“It’s alright.” the Doctor smiled. “Now. Where?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anywhere in time and space. Anywhere at all!”

Neville laughed quietly. “Impossible!”

“Neville!” the Doctor gasped. “I am shocked! You’re a wizard, and you’re saying that’s impossible?”

Neville laughed again. “Suppose. So… time and space. Um…”

“Take your time.” the Doctor flicked a switch with his foot, still staring at the small boy.

“Can we go somewhere with lots of plants?” Neville’s eyes shone.

“Plants?”

“Yes, plants.” Neville beamed.

The Doctor grinned. “Sure! Anything for my favourite herbologist!”

“Your what?”

“Nothing.” the Doctor gulped. Spoilers. “Allons-y!”

He pulled a lever. The TARDIS shuddered and spun, and Neville was thrown to the side, Trevor escaping his hands and hopping towards the door. Eventually, they stopped shaking, and the Doctor bounded to the door, pulling Neville with him.

“Neville, welcome to the Gardens of Epsilon Twelve.” the Doctor beamed.

Neville gasped. Huge trees and bushes and flowers sprouted everywhere, covering a huge landscape in a thousand different colours and shades of green. Exotic and frankly impossible plants grew in weird and wonderful shapes and sizes, twisting and undulating up to the sky. Tiny birds and insects flitted around the flowers, collecting alien pollen for their alien nests. Neville’s knees buckled, and the Doctor caught him, laughing.

“It’s beautiful!” Neville gasped.

“You built it.” the Doctor smiled fondly.

“Really?” Neville’s jaw dropped.

“This was all your work. I come here every now and again for a little holiday.” the Doctor grinned. “Fantastic shops.”

“There’s shops?”

“Just a little one.” the Doctor beamed. “I like little shops.”

The front door opened and shut quietly, footsteps plodding upstairs to the bedroom. Rory smiled. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who this was.

“What’s up, Doc’?” he grinned.

“I was bored.”

Rory knew that ‘bored’ was Doctor-speak for ‘lonely’. He sat up, stretching. “Yeah?”

The Doctor sat on the edge of Rory’s bed, eyeing the young nurse. “Yeah.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“I want fish fingers and custard.”

“We ran out of custard, sorry. I have apples.” Rory smirked.

“Apples are rubbish.” the Doctor grumbled.

“Well what-“ 

Rory was cut off by the Doctor holding a finger to his lips. The Time Lord leant forward, pressing his lips quickly to Rory’s lips. As soon as he pulled away, Rory’s jaw dropped.

“Doctor? What the Hell?”

“Apples.” the Doctor smiled randomly. “I like apples.”

He hopped off the bed, jogging downstairs to the kitchen. There was a crash, then an alien curse word, and the Doctor reappeared in the bedroom, looking sheepish.

“I hate apples.”

Rory groaned.

I love you so much :D 

(Thank you for the prompt – I’m so sorry it’s late. I hope you like it!)

…

“These guys are nothing like the Silence.” the Doctor frowned. “They’re deadly, and you will definitely remember them when you see them.”

“Name?” Canton asked.

“Slitheen. They’re a family, not a species, from Raxacoricofallapatorius – they hunt using their sense of smell.” the Doctor explained.

Canton grinned. “From where?”

“Raxa- I’m not repeating myself.”

Canton’s face fell, but his eyes still sparkled, and the Doctor grinned at him. The two of them, and three other soldiers, were stood in the White House, waiting for the Slitheen to arrive. The new President had been taken over by one of the big green aliens, and Canton had called in his best man – the Doctor. Right now, the Oncoming Storm was sat with his legs up on a desk, eating Jammie Dodgers and instructing the few remaining soldiers on how to kill a Slitheen. Their guns had been replaced by water pistols filled with vinegar. The Doctor smiled every time he saw one.

“Huuumaaans!” a silky, stuttering voice echoed through the room.

Everyone jumped – the Doctor leapt out of his chair, running to stand in front of his friends. Canton trained his water pistol at the door.

“I can smell yoooou!” a big green alien hooked its long claws around the door, opening it slowly. It grinned as it spied the soldiers. “Aha! Hello!”

“OPEN FIRE!” Canton yelled.

“NO!” the Doctor shouted.

Too late – the soldier squirted the vinegar at the alien, who just blinked and shrugged.

“Is that your plan?” the Slitheen gurgled. “Pretty rubbish, isn’t it?”

“You said vinegar would work!” hissed one of the soldiers.

The Slitheen honed in on him. “Mm, you smell lovely.”

The alien picked up the soldier, snapping his neck as easily as a child snaps a twig. It grinned, swiping the other two soldiers to the floor with its huge claw.

“Wait, wait!” the Doctor gasped. “Hold on a tic!”

“What now?” the Slitheen whined. “I’m having fun!”

“Doctor, let’s go!” Canton growled.

“The Slitheen family-” the Doctor started, but Canton hauled him away just in time – the Slitheen aimed a blow to the Doctor’s head, but missed.

“Blast.” it muttered.

The Doctor and Canton pelted down the corridors, into the Oval Office. They slammed the doors shut and hid underneath the desk, panting heavily.

“Vinegar should have worked!” the Doctor yelped.

Canton gritted his teeth. “Well it didn’t. So what now?”

The doors flew open, the Slitheen stepping in happily. “Huuuumans! Humans! Come out, come out wherever you are!”

“No time.” Canton whispered.

“For what?”

Canton grinned and grabbed the Doctor’s face, pulling him in for a deep, if quick, kiss. The Doctor pulled away, blinking. There was a pause, the Slitheen’s taunts blurring into the background as Canton and the Doctor stared at each other. Canton coughed.

“Sorry.” he shrugged, not looking sorry at all.

“’S fine.” the Doctor smiled. “But… uh… Slitheen.”

“Right.” Canton grinned. “Later, maybe?”

The Doctor glanced over at the Slitheen, then back at Canton. He grinned.

“Maybe. RUN!”

(FEEELS! Yes, yes I can. Thank you for the prompt, and I hope you like it!)

…

The Time Lord and the Consulting Detective were sat in a dingy café, somewhere in Manchester or Leeds or Gloucester or something. It didn’t really matter. They had tea, they had biscuits, and the TARDIS was in a storage room. Peaceful, quiet… and both men were meant to be dead.

“So what happens now?” Sherlock murmured. “Mycroft could help us, but I don’t fancy being in his debt.”

“You don’t have a choice.” the Doctor munched on a Garibaldi biscuit, looking disdainfully at the raisins. “I hate raisins.”

“I thought you hated pears.” Sherlock didn’t sound like he cared.

“I do. But I hate raisins too.” the Doctor threw the rest of the half-eaten biscuit onto the plate.

They stared into the fireplace, the warm light reflected in their eyes. Sherlock coughed.

“You were supposed to die. The Mars base-”

“So were you, at St Bart’s.” the Doctor interrupted quietly.

Sherlock smiled. “You always say that time can be rewritten. Wibble wobble.”

“Wibbly wobbly.” the Doctor corrected.

“What actually happened, Doctor?” Sherlock frowned. “You said the woman, Brooke… she killed herself. What-”

“The thing with you, Sherlock,” the Doctor leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “is that you have friends. People who love you.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, but they’re not important.”

There was a pause.

“Not important?” Sherlock repeated.

The Doctor blinked, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just said. “I-I didn’t… I didn’t mean that.” he glanced at his hands. “I’ve lived too long.” he muttered to himself. He looked up apologetically. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Sherlock smiled.

“So, ahem, the thing with you, Sherlock, is that you have Molly and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade and Mycroft… and John.” the Doctor raised an eyebrow. “So why don’t you go back and see them? I did. It won’t hurt, if you go back far enough.”

“I can’t.” Sherlock sighed.

“Why not?”

“I need them to believe I’m dead. If I show up at some point in their timeline to, say, help them with homework or cross the road without dying, then they’ll remember me.” Sherlock shrugged. “I can’t risk it.”

“Fine.” the Doctor clasped his hands. There was a pause, before: “So what are you and John?”

“Friends.” Sherlock nodded.

“Just friends?”

Sherlock nodded again. “That’s what he says, so it’s true.”

“And you won’t tell him how you really feel?”

Sherlock smiled. “I want what he wants. If I can keep him safe, I will. I’m not going to hurt him again.”

The Doctor smiled too. “Sherlock Holmes… the most noble man I’ve ever met.”

Sherlock grinned. “Cheers.”

The two of them held up their tea mugs and clinked them together, sipping the warm drink in the glow of the firelight.  

(That’s an interesting prompt! I wonder how the Doctor would react… let’s find out! I hope you like it!)

…

“Doctor?” Oswin blinked.

The strange, wonderful man stepped into the prison, fixing his bow-tie. He stared at Oswin with dark eyes.

“Hello, Soufflé Girl.” his voice was soft.

Oswin grinned. “You came back!”

“Of course I did.” the Doctor seemed reluctant to step any closer to the girl. “I always come back, even if I’m a bit late.”

234 days, Oswin added mentally, but she just smiled and nodded at the camera. “Thank you, Doctor. So, are we going to see the stars now?”

“Not yet.”

Oswin sighed. “Why not?”

“Do you know what you are?” for the first time, the Doctor’s voice quivered with malice.

Oswin shuddered. “Of course I do.”

“Then you know why we can’t travel together.”

The Doctor glared at the dirty gold Dalek before him. The eye-stalk drooped, the whole frame shuffling backwards as if it were embarrassed. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the thing.

“You are like me.”

“What?” the Doctor whispered.

Oswin sniffed. “You’re trapped too. Trapped in your own body.”

The Doctor shook with rage at the words spoken by such a creature. Oswin was human; the thing that spoke now was a machine, filled with rage and fear and hate – oh. Oh, of course. So was he. He’d spent so long running from the Daleks, only to be shown time and again how very much like them he was.

Oswin continued: “You want to escape. So give me freedom, Doctor! Show me the stars, and maybe I can help you escape too!”

“I can’t do that!” the Doctor growled.

“Why not?” she yelled. “Because you’re afraid of being like me?”

The Doctor closed his eyes. “Because I am like you.”

“So you admit it!”

“Yes.” the Doctor gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry, Oswin.” he turned to leave.

Oswin breathed heavily for a moment, before blurting out: “I love you, Doctor!”

The Doctor blinked. The Dalek voice made the phrase sound horrific, like a death sentence. But then he realised that this thing wasn’t a creature any more – Oswin was speaking from her heart. Something a Dalek didn’t, and would never, have.

“Oswin-”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t you dare.” Oswin wiped a tear away roughly. “Just go. Travel in your box and see the universe.” she smiled. “For me.”

“Oswin-”

“Go on, Chin Boy!” she laughed quietly. “Please, go.”

The Doctor nodded, then jogged from the room, torn between being glad at leaving the Dalek… and being sad at leaving the human. 

(I LOVE YOU SOUFFLE GIRL!! I have a lot of Oswin feels, okay? Best companion-that-never-was-but-might-be. Thank you for the prompt – hope you like it!)

…

“Ex… Ex… Ex…”

“Oswin?” the Doctor frowned.

“Ex… ter… min… ate.” Oswin growled.

“Oswin!” the Doctor yelled.

The Dalek shuffled on its wheels, blurting its battle cry again and again. Oswin rocked on her chair, hugging her keyboard to her chest.

“I am human!” she shouted. “I am human!”

“Oswin, stop!” the Doctor cried.

The Dalek moved forwards. “I am human! I am not a Dalek! I am human!”

“Oswin! Calm down!”

“DOCTOR HELP!” Oswin yelled.

The Doctor waved his hands about, torn between being terrified of the Dalek and wanting to help the human inside. He wanted to help her. He wanted to help… soufflé girl.

“Oswin, how do you make soufflés?”

“It doesn’t matter!” she yelled. “Nothing matters. Nothing matters!”

“Oswin, tell me how you make soufflés!” the Doctor ordered.

Oswin sniffed, her eyes going wide. “Y-You need… you need exterminate.” she gasped and grabbed her head, rocking even more. “I AM HUMAN!”

“I know, Oswin! I know!” the Doctor cried. He pressed his face to the Dalek’s eyestalk. “You’re the most humany-wumany human I’ve ever met. Now tell me – how do you make soufflés?”

Oswin lifted her head slightly. “You need flour.”

“What else? Eggs?”

Oswin smiled slightly. “Yes. And milk.”

“And butter, I bet.” the Doctor’s voice was soft.

“Yes, that too.”

“What do you do to make the soufflé?”

Oswin cleared her throat, her chest still heaving with sobs, her ears still pounding with the sound of her fake heartbeat. “Add them one by one and stir.”

“Until?”

“Until it’s creamy.”

“Then?”

“Cook it with the… e-egg-eggs on top.”

The Doctor smiled. “You did it, Oswin.”

Oswin sniffed. “Did what?”

“You said eggs.” the Doctor patted the Dalek tenderly. “Now then. Can you lower the forcefield?”

“I can.”

“Will you?”

Oswin smiled at the Doctor. “Anything for my chin boy.”

(I’ve written one of these before, and I totally agree! Molly’s fantastic to write as well, so thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it!)

…

“Hello.”

Molly looked up. A tall, handsome man was stood before her, smiling politely, fidgeting his hands nervously. He had black hair, like Sherlock, but it was long and shaggy, and his eyes were a curious shade of red. Molly smiled back, a tingle going up her spine.

“Hi! Who are you?”

“My name is Vladimir. And yourself?”

“Molly.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you!” she blushed. Vladimir licked his lips quickly, stepping forward somewhat eagerly.

“Are you with someone?”

Molly looked around for the Doctor – no sign. She sighed. Go to the 1800s, he said. It’ll be fun, he said. ‘Hamlet’ was due to play in the theatre any minute now, but her Time Lord had vanished, saying something about getting popcorn from the TARDIS. Molly smiled at the stranger.

“I was, but he left. He might come back, I don’t know. He does that a lot.” Molly giggled.

Vladimir laughed too – it was a strangely choked sound, like his throat was dry. He walked right up to the blonde, glancing over her long lace dress.

“I have never seen attire like this.” he murmured.

“That’s because I’m from the future.” Molly grinned. She twisted her bracelet round her wrist, admiring the way it glinted in the dim moonlight.

“The future?” Vladimir raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a long story.”

“We have all the time in the world… tell it.” he wrapped his long fingers around Molly’s wrist, pulling her towards him gently. Molly’s lips parted slightly.

“Sorry, what was your name again?” Molly gulped.

“Vladimir.” he purred. His voice was deep and seductive, like Sherlock’s. He leaned forward as if to kiss her. “Vladimir Dracula.”

Molly froze. The man leant past her lips, tracing his tongue downwards from her ear – towards her neck. Molly screamed, and Vladimir pounced, sinking his teeth into Molly’s neck.

“Molly, I got the popcorn, hope you like salted! GOOD GOD!” the Doctor dropped the bucket of popcorn and stared at his companion – the girl was pinned against the wall, her eyes rolling, while a man bit her neck, licking up the long trail of blood his teeth made from her skin.

“GET OFF HER!” the Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a stake, launching himself forward to plunge it into the vampire’s back. It didn’t have much of an effect, but the vampire dropped Molly, turning on the Doctor.

“Okay, this was a bad plan.” the Doctor gulped.

The vampire advanced on the Doctor, and the Time Lord shuddered. Drops of blood littered the vampire’s shirt, staining it and the fangs that protruded from the pale face. He snarled at the Doctor.

“Who are you?” he growled.

“I’m the Doctor.”

“No medical man can harm me!” the vampire laughed cruelly. “I am the Count of Transylvania!”

“Yeah? Well I’m the Lord of Time.” the Doctor grinned.

He ran forward, about to plunge the stake into the vampire’s heart, but the thing hissed and leapt into the air, transforming into a bat and flying away. The Doctor ran over to Molly, helping her sit up.

“Doctor?” she whispered.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, you’ll be fine.” he examined the bite-wound. “Just a scratch. He didn’t put any poison into you, so you won’t wake up a vampire.” he smiled.

“Great.” Molly sighed. She frowned and whacked him with a limp fist.

It didn’t hurt at all, but the Doctor pretended to wince for her benefit. “What was that for?”

“You’re a Time Lord… but you’re always late!” she giggled.

(I love this prompt!! I went quite off-track, actually. I just thought it’d be nicer. Sorry! Anyway, I hope you like it!)

…

“So, Phil! Where would you like to go?” the Tenth Doctor beamed.

The teenager considered that for a moment, but it was only a moment – he knew exactly where he wanted to go. “I want to see Captain America! He’s my hero… besides you, of course.” he rolled his eyes.

The Doctor laughed. “Then off we go!”

The TARDIS whirled through the Vortex, throwing Phil and the Doctor all over the place, and they eventually landed with a bump, a few sparks flying off the TARDIS console.

“Go on then!” the Doctor smiled. “Don’t wander off!”

Phil ran out of the TARDIS, his eyes widening in awe. They had landed in some kind of lab, with big blue things like the cinema screens back home mounted on the walls. Phil gazed at them – colour television! How strange! He wandered around for a bit, analysing all the various technology.

“Who are you?”

Phil whirled round – a medium-height, brown-haired man was stood a few paces away, holding a whiskey glass in one hand and tapping a blue circle of light in his chest with his free hand. He set the glass down, moving towards Phil.

“I’m Phil Coulson.” Phil gulped.

The man stopped in his tracks. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well…” Phil wished he had the Doctor’s psychic paper. “I am, so you have to believe it.”

“Tell me, Phil.” the man crossed his arms, almost obscuring the light in his chest. It kind of freaked Phil out. “What do you think of Captain America?”

Phil grinned. “He’s my hero! I’ve got all the trading cards, all the comics – and I’ve seen all his movies! When my mom takes me to the pictures, I always salute the Captain America adverts.”

The man blinked. “So you’re really Coulson?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“Tony Stark.” the man glanced over Phil for a bit, almost trying to size him up. “Come with me, Phil.”

“Where are we going?”

Tony just held out a hand – Phil shrugged and took it, and the two of them exited the lab, jogging down a hall. Suddenly, Tony pushed Phil against the wall, hiding him behind his back.

“Morning, Coulson.”

“Morning, Stark.” the adult Phil Coulson walked past the man, frowning slightly.

Phil’s eyes widened. His adult self was taller than he’d thought (glad to see he didn’t inherit his father’s shortness genes), and was balding, with a lopsided frown. As soon as adult Coulson was out of the way, Tony pulled Phil down the hall, towards the living room.

“Phil?” the Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS. Upon seeing the empty lab, he groaned and stepped out fully, closing the door behind him. “Don’t wander off! I say it every time!”

“Who are you?”

“Ah, hello!” the Doctor beamed, stepping up to Agent Coulson.

“Hello… Who are you?” Coulson repeated.

“King of France.” the Doctor flashed his psychic paper. “Um, can you tell me where Mr Stark went?”

Coulson decided to humour the lunatic. “Down the hall.”

“Thanks! What was your name, by the way?”

“Agent Phil Coulson.”

The Doctor gulped. “Ah.” he hurried down the hall to look for his companion, slightly terrified.

Coulson glared after him, reaching for his walkie-talkie. “Sir, we’ve got a minor security breach. Male, late thirties, pinstripe suit… some really great hair.”

Down the hall, Tony sat Phil down on the sofa and told him to wait – he dashed off somewhere, only to be replaced a few minutes later by a a bewildered Doctor.

“I told you not to wander off!” he hissed.

“Here he is!”

Phil and the Doctor turned round. The Doctor saluted, and Phil almost fainted. It was him. 

“C-Captain?”

Captain America stood before them in his full battle suit, smiling kindly, just like in his movies. He stepped forward to shake Phil’s hand. He grinned.

“Hello, Phil. And might I say… it’s an honour to meet you.”