Across the furthest reaches of Time and Space, a hero known only as the Doctor travels within his TARDIS, determined to the last to protect the universe from some of its most evil forms. In particular, the Doctor has developed a fondness for the planet called Earth, saving it time and time again across multiple incarnations and personalities, be he alone or alongside his most loyal and trusted companions.
But would his greatest adventures have been different if he had been in another body? Would a different ally change things for the better… or worse? If the deeds of the Ninth and Tenth Doctors had been performed by an earlier incarnation, what would happen then? This is…
DOCTOR WHO CLASSICFIED: SMITH AND JONES
Starring Patrick Troughton as the Doctor, Frazier Hines as Jamie McCrimmon and Freema Agyeman as Martha Jones
This story takes place between 'The Two Doctors' and 'Spearhead From Space', during the period in which the Second Doctor and Jamie undertake missions for the powerful Time Lords between adventures through Time and Space.
Martha Jones was having a typical day.
That is to say that it wasn't a normal day for her – her brother Leo was Twenty One today (Where had all that time flown? How had her little kid brother become a young man so fast?) and the air round the Jones family was abuzz with excitement, not all of it positive. Since the estrangement of her parents some time ago, every special occasion was the same – rowing between her ex-parents over every little criteria.
And as probably the most sensible person in her family, Martha typically was the one cool-headed enough - months of medical training and calmed sessions with dozens of worried patients – to know how to tackle more intrapersonal situations like the ones she found with her family. As usual.
Her phone beeped and she flicked it open, speaking as ever in that pleasant tone she used with all of her family. "You're up early! What's happening?"
First up in the likely long list of phone calls was Tish, her equally 'They Grow So Fast' little sister, all busy in the midst of some secretarial role with an aged scientist she couldn't put a name to – good for her, all the same.
The only other person in her family to reach such a successful if pressured role was her eerily identical and sadly late cousin Adeola. One of the many victims of the so-called 'Battle of Canary Wharf' that had seen hundreds of employees of the tower killed, it had been a big shock to Martha's otherwise unchanging existence. And of course, she knew what was responsible. The Government had tried to pass the waves of Metal Men and Gold Machines as vast hallucinations, and a surprising number were prepared to accept that, but Martha didn't feel like doing that, not with no body to grieve over.
She returned to Tish, whose thoughts were on anything but science now though, except maybe family struggle. "It's a nightmare, because Dad won't listen, and I'm telling you, Mum is going mental. Swear to God, Martha, this is epic. You've got to get in there and stop him."
Martha readied herself. "How do I do that?"
"Tell Dad he can't bring her!"
Martha inwardly sighed. 'Her' happened to be Annalise, her father's latest blonde bombshell whose femme fatal charms had dug their way into her dad's head... not to mention his cash savings. But Tish was right, having Annalise in the same room as her mother-
The phone beeped, and again Martha had to be go-between, first for her brother who was quite content to forfeit a party if it would avoid a scene, then her mother Francine who was quite determined that Leo would have a party and nobody would interfere, not least her former husband. And then finally Dad himself, who stated quite forcefully his position.
"Martha? Now, tell your mother; Leo is my son, and I'm paying for half that party. I'm entitled to bring who I like." Martha tried her best to intervene but with Annalise's whiney voice and the rev of her father's flashy sports car, the line went dead.
She sighed again, content that at least here in the midst of London, amongst her work at the Royal Hope Hospital, she would be busy enough not to have to worry for a couple of hours about being moderator between the older generations at Leo's-
Just as she glanced up from her phone Martha's eyes locked with an oddly clothed man who stepped right out in front of her, brought a recorder to his lips and played what after a moment she recognised to be the first few notes of 'Twinkle Little Star'. "Like that, see?" With an enormous grin and sparking eyes, he vanished back into the crowds, much to Martha's puzzlement. Shrugging at this brief display of oddity, she carried on towards her work place.
Turning the busy street corner Martha ruefully switched she'd brought an umbrella as the sounds of distant thunder rumbled through her ears. The thought of getting a soaking on top of everything else meant she never had time to prepare for the sudden shove as someone barged right past her.
Martha was well known for being the understanding sort but her day was already getting to her and this was pushing it. "Hey, watch it mate!" It was a figure clothed completely in biker's gear, leathery gloves and a shiny helmet. Martha felt a slight pang of nervousness as the figure twirled for a moment and stared right at her, no trace of humanity viewable with the sleek helmet over his face (or was it her? There was no way of knowing, not in that gear).
Then as soon as the leather bound figure had turned, it marched almost militarily into the hospital reception. Faced with two sets of weird events in a matter of minutes had Martha slightly on edge, but her calm collected and rational mind kicked in and she proceeded inside.
Martha wanted to feel that the day was going to return to normal after her encounter with the Recorder Man, the leather bond biker man and the curious electric shock she had received from her medical locker when getting her work clothes, but even though Mr Stoker's regular inspections were normal, there was still something not quite right. As the team of Medical Students gathered round a kindly old lady named Florence Finnegan, Martha saw out the corner of her eye two of the same shifty clothed bikers she'd seen before, exiting a lift in perfect unison before marching off down a side corridor. Then she willed herself to focus on the tasks at hand – Leo's party problems and the odd man on the street had clearly gotten to her and were making her see things which weren't important.
Mr Stoker appeared to be busy testing the students over Florence's current condition of dizziness and hadn't noticed the biker-men at all. "Hm... Pulse is slightly thready. Well, let's see what Britain's finest might suggest. Any ideas, Mr Morgenstern?"
Her usually nervous college piped up. "Dizziness can be a sign of early onset diabetes."
"Hardly early onset, if you'll forgive me, Miss Finnegan." Though Mr Stoker was liable to be overly critical and unforgiving to the medical students, Martha knew he had least had theirs and the patient's interests at heart. "Any more ideas? Swales?" He motioned at one of Martha's best friends, the Indian Swales who was often of a similar disposition to Morgenstern in the heat of the moment.
"Um... could recommend a CT scan."
Stoker tutted. "And use all our money? Jones, I hope you of all people have a simple recourse to hand?"
Martha, determined to prove herself to the Consultant, quickly thought of the best option she could think of. "We could take bloods and check for Meniere's disease?"
The man sighed. "Or... we could simply ask the patient. What did you have for dinner last night, Miss Finnegan?"
"I had Salad."
"And the previous evening?"
"And salad every night for the past week, contrary to my instructions. Salt deficiency, that's what. Simple, honest salt."
As Stoker moved down the hall with the students and Martha mentally kicked herself for missing such an obvious option she saw the Bikers move down another hall pass her group. She was in two minds about inquiring at the desk about their jobs when the team of would-be Doctors entered another ward... and she saw him.
The Recorder Man, sitting as comfortably as you like and a large grin on his face as Stoker approached him.
He wasn't wearing his outdated outfit from the morning – just some hospital branded pyjamas – but he still had that mop headed, somewhat greyed hair and the curious child-like eyes she remembered from earlier. Martha couldn't make a guess as to how old he was – the hair made him seem perhaps in his late forties or early fifties, but she got the impression that perhaps he'd merely been through something which had affected him in such a manner as to alter his looks. Despite this he was still quite decent looking, in an outlandish sort of way.
Stoker greeted him as he did with all those in his care. "Now then, Mr Smith, a very good morning to you. How are you today?"
The mop haired man shrugged. "Oh well, I've been better. Lots of nasty things, but a little better, yes..."
"Indeed... John Smith, admitted yesterday with severe abdominal pains. Jones, why don't you see what you can find? Try to amaze me." Stoker added irritably.
Determined as ever to outdo herself and Stoker Martha stepped up, though not before wanting to question the patient's previous actions that morning. "That wasn't very clever, running around outside, was it?"
John Smith seemed to look genuinely surprised. "Erm, I'm sorry?"
"On Chancery Street this morning. You came up to me and played a recorder." She spotted the aforementioned object on the bedside table and pointed. "That recorder there."
The patient seemed to digest this. "Did I indeed? I must say that sounds like a silly thing for me to do. But I was in here. You can ask all the nice Nurses... or young Jamie there!" He pointed to a younger man sitting in a bed just opposite, who unlike John Smith seemed quite unhappy to be stuck in bed. "Jamie, I was here this morning, wasn't I?"
The Scotsman (Martha knew that even before he opened his mouth – no Englishman would have 'McCrimmon' as a last name written on his medical chart otherwise) nodded slowly back at Mr Smith. "Oh aye, the Do-" He trailed off at a quick stern look from Smith which only Martha seemed to catch. "...both Mr Smith and I were in here since yesterday, lass, you have my word on that one."
Martha turned back to the patient with a perplexed frown. "But that's weird, because he looked just like you. Have you got a brother?"
John Smith seemed to think for a moment. "Oh... I think so. Haven't seen him for a while, but I doubt he'll look like me. Identical Regeneration doesn't run in the..." Once again he trailed off and glanced at her as if he'd spoiled the ending of a good book. "Do forgive me; I was rather speaking nonsense for a moment there."
Before Martha could probe further she saw Stoker's stern face wanting results and opted to use her stethoscope, wondering if indeed there was a family connection between the Scottish man and John Smith, who seemed a little more friendly in conversation than your two typical patients. Then her thought ran directly to the man in front of her bed and she stared up at him with some confusion, prompting a small grin on his face.
Stoker coughed loudly. "I weep for further generations. Are you having trouble locating the heart, Miss Jones?"
Martha gave a nervous smile, attempting to distance herself from the impossibility of the man in front of her. She'd detected two heart beats, but surely that was...? "Um. I don't know. Stomach cramps?" She opted to buy some time for herself, or else get Mr Stoker to check.
The consultant grunted slightly. "That is a symptom, not a diagnosis. And you rather failed basic techniques by not consulting first with the patient's chart-" As he leaned down to pick it up a static shock struck his hand, just as Martha had found in the locker room, and caused him to drop the chart with a slight yelp of pain.
Several students quickly noted the same things had happened to them, including Martha, but Stoker had as always a logical response; "There's a thunderstorm moving in and lightning is a form of static electricity, as was first proven by - anyone?"
John Smith quickly piped up. "Oh, Benjamin Franklin!"
"Quite right, Mr Smith."
The patient seemed to look reminiscent. "Oh, that was a nice day with Ben. Vicki couldn't quite hold onto the kite though, and then poor Ian got soaked to the bone with rain and caught a cold, and then we all had to rescue Barbara from those five-footed Guatanaums and their Rain Absorbers, dear me..." He seemed to be speaking to himself if anyone and getting a series of bemused confused looks, even from his apparent friend Jamie across the ward.
Stoker coughed then motioned to carry on. "Quite... I think perhaps a visit from psychiatric... and on our next visit..."
The hours moved on and all thoughts of the mysterious John Smith were soon removed from Martha Jones' mind as lunch and the prospect of sorting out the impending party loomed. She'd got back in touch with her sister, anxious to think of a way together to avoid their father's cash spending bimbo from turning up and upsetting their mother. "No, listen, I've worked out a plan. We tell Annalise that the buffet tonight is one hundred per cent carbohydrate, and she won't turn up."
Her sister didn't seem convinced on the other phone end. "I wish you'd take this seriously. That's our inheritance she's spending. On fake tan. Tell you what, I'm not that far away, I'll drop by for a sandwich and we can draw up a plan."
Martha frowned as she glanced out the window. "In this weather? I'm not going out, it's pouring down." Sure enough the window outside was showing some of the worst weather she'd remembered in weeks.
"It's not raining here..." Her sister's voice trailed off... then sounded confused. "That's weird. It's sitting right on top of you, I can see it, but it's dry where I am."
"Well, sounds like you just got lucky."
"No... it's like in cartoons where the guy has a rain cloud overhead."
Martha looked back outside, but the rain was still pouring from her perspective, and her sister wasn't the lying type. Ignoring the paradox she returned to the question of the party, neither her or Swales noticing the short mop headed John Smith wondering past their kitchen, just stopping for a moment to glance in and then carry on.
"But listen, I tell you what we'll do. We tell Dad and Annalise to get there early, for about 7:30, for Leo to do his birthday stuff. We tell Mum to come about 8:30 or nine, and that gives me time to have a word with Annalise, and-" She stopped as she felt Swales' hand brush her arm. "What?"
"The rain..." The Indian girl was staring out the window in amazement, her mouth open.
"It's only rain-" Martha started but the voice of Tish interrupted further conversation.
"Martha! Have... Have you seen the rain?"
Martha frowned at both the phone and Swales. "Why's everyone fussing about rain?"
The girl pointed directly at the rain and Martha stared harder as it dawned on her. "Its... its going up."
"Martha... the rain is going up..."
Then all at once, the world went insane. Everything shook violently for a couple of seconds as Martha and Swales struggled to hold onto anything. Outside it became incredibly bright, and then... silence.
Martha picked herself up. "What in the hell was that? It felt like an earthquake..."
Swales was once more glancing at the window. "It's night. But... it was lunchtime a second ago..."
Martha turned to look about. There was a darker feel to the place, but how on Earth could that be...
Her heart went to her throat as she looked outside.
They were on the moon. Lunar craters. The orb which was the Earth several thousand miles away. Grey rocks, Neil Armstrong, small steps and giant leaps.... everything she had read about the moon was right out there.
"We're on the moon..." She whispered aloud. "We're on the bloody moon..."