Post by Captain Jack Harkness on Jun 16, 2015 7:30:53 GMT -5
"I've known the Master for a very long time - he's as smart as he is deceitful, always scheming to take over this or that planet, although most of the time it's this particular one. It looks like this time he enlisted a scientist, or maybe a chemist, to help him... No idea where he found that monster, yet.
The TCE is a device of his own invention, it compresses its target's tissues until death occurs."
Jack raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Charming, I don't think. A good buddy of yours, then, is he?”
However, the Doctor was already rapping on a glossy black door, set back slightly from the pavement. Jack's eyes were drawn inexorably to the gleaming brass numbers fixed to the woodwork. 221B. Somewhere inside him, a gleeful little boy was cheering. He could hardly believe he was standing outside the dwelling of the actual, honest-to-goodness Sherlock Holmes.
A middle-aged woman in a black bombazine gown with a white lace ruffle at the throat pulled open the door and stared at them with eyes like gimlets. It could only be the famous Mrs Hudson, Jack thought to himself in wonderment, Sherlock's formidable landlady.
"Mrs Hudson, unfortunately I have one more patient; where can we tend to his wounds? Also, it's very important that I run a few experiments: is Mr. Holmes' laboratory available? Or at least his equipment? If not, I'll have to ask to borrow Dr. Watson's medical bag and his study.
I wouldn't ask of either if it wasn't crucial to find clues as to what happened to our good doctor as well."
Jack noticed that the Doctor was very careful not to reveal the macabre contents of his jacket to the woman. The landlady had a reputation for being unflappable – and indeed, with a lodger like Sherlock Holmes, she would need to be – but even the redoubtable Mrs Hudson would find it difficult to accept the gruesome truth of those broken, doll-like figures.
He moved forward a little, so that she could see the unconscious figure of Jackson Lake in his arms. Despite the hurried medical patch-up they had given him, the man was still bleeding profusely, and looked in a very sorry state.
Mrs. Hudson shook her head at the blood dripping on her floor. It was going to take a few hours to get that scrubbed out.
"Mr. Holmes's lab is upstairs," she said calmly. "There is some tea and sandwiches on the table in the living room next to Dr. Watson if you get hungry. I am afraid there are a shortages of beds however, so if you wish to stay here you may sleep on the floor. The young lady may have Mr. Holmes's bedroom."
She proceeded to start cleaning the blood out of the carpet next.
The young lady that Mrs Hudson was referring to was hovering behind the landlady, peering over the woman's shoulder at the new arrivals. Jack nearly tripped over the step as he did a double-take. The face was younger than the one he knew, but very familiar all the same. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind that he was looking at Sarah Jane Smith, a long time close friend and colleague. He was so surprised to see her, it took all of his self-control not to blurt her name out loud. However, with an effort, he managed to school his face into blankness. It was much too early in her timeline for them to have met yet. He couldn't afford to betray any recognition and inadvertently create a paradox.
"Is he dead?!" The anxious question was addressed to him, and her pretty, delicate face was pale.
“No, not dead,” he reassured her quickly. “But his injuries need tending urgently. He's lost a lot of blood.”
He followed her and the Doctor up the stairs, carrying Jackson Lake carefully, doing his best not to jolt him or cause him more pain. At the top, there was a neat and well-appointed laboratory. Sarah Jane was already clearing off a table, so that he could lay the injured man on the smooth surface to be examined. Her movements were quick and efficient, just as he remembered in relation to her older self.
With a grunt of effort, he gently lowered Jackson Lake on to the table, making him as comfortable as he could.
"What happened back there?” Sarah Jane demanded. “Are you alright?"
“I'm fine.” He nodded at her and flexed his stiff arms, a little numb from bearing Jackson's considerable weight. Then, unable to help himself, he gave her his trademark grin, loaded as usual with a lethal amount of charm. “Captain Jack Harkness. And you are?”
Somehow, it seemed ridiculous to be introducing himself to her.
The TCE is a device of his own invention, it compresses its target's tissues until death occurs."
Jack raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Charming, I don't think. A good buddy of yours, then, is he?”
However, the Doctor was already rapping on a glossy black door, set back slightly from the pavement. Jack's eyes were drawn inexorably to the gleaming brass numbers fixed to the woodwork. 221B. Somewhere inside him, a gleeful little boy was cheering. He could hardly believe he was standing outside the dwelling of the actual, honest-to-goodness Sherlock Holmes.
A middle-aged woman in a black bombazine gown with a white lace ruffle at the throat pulled open the door and stared at them with eyes like gimlets. It could only be the famous Mrs Hudson, Jack thought to himself in wonderment, Sherlock's formidable landlady.
"Mrs Hudson, unfortunately I have one more patient; where can we tend to his wounds? Also, it's very important that I run a few experiments: is Mr. Holmes' laboratory available? Or at least his equipment? If not, I'll have to ask to borrow Dr. Watson's medical bag and his study.
I wouldn't ask of either if it wasn't crucial to find clues as to what happened to our good doctor as well."
Jack noticed that the Doctor was very careful not to reveal the macabre contents of his jacket to the woman. The landlady had a reputation for being unflappable – and indeed, with a lodger like Sherlock Holmes, she would need to be – but even the redoubtable Mrs Hudson would find it difficult to accept the gruesome truth of those broken, doll-like figures.
He moved forward a little, so that she could see the unconscious figure of Jackson Lake in his arms. Despite the hurried medical patch-up they had given him, the man was still bleeding profusely, and looked in a very sorry state.
Mrs. Hudson shook her head at the blood dripping on her floor. It was going to take a few hours to get that scrubbed out.
"Mr. Holmes's lab is upstairs," she said calmly. "There is some tea and sandwiches on the table in the living room next to Dr. Watson if you get hungry. I am afraid there are a shortages of beds however, so if you wish to stay here you may sleep on the floor. The young lady may have Mr. Holmes's bedroom."
She proceeded to start cleaning the blood out of the carpet next.
The young lady that Mrs Hudson was referring to was hovering behind the landlady, peering over the woman's shoulder at the new arrivals. Jack nearly tripped over the step as he did a double-take. The face was younger than the one he knew, but very familiar all the same. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind that he was looking at Sarah Jane Smith, a long time close friend and colleague. He was so surprised to see her, it took all of his self-control not to blurt her name out loud. However, with an effort, he managed to school his face into blankness. It was much too early in her timeline for them to have met yet. He couldn't afford to betray any recognition and inadvertently create a paradox.
"Is he dead?!" The anxious question was addressed to him, and her pretty, delicate face was pale.
“No, not dead,” he reassured her quickly. “But his injuries need tending urgently. He's lost a lot of blood.”
He followed her and the Doctor up the stairs, carrying Jackson Lake carefully, doing his best not to jolt him or cause him more pain. At the top, there was a neat and well-appointed laboratory. Sarah Jane was already clearing off a table, so that he could lay the injured man on the smooth surface to be examined. Her movements were quick and efficient, just as he remembered in relation to her older self.
With a grunt of effort, he gently lowered Jackson Lake on to the table, making him as comfortable as he could.
"What happened back there?” Sarah Jane demanded. “Are you alright?"
“I'm fine.” He nodded at her and flexed his stiff arms, a little numb from bearing Jackson's considerable weight. Then, unable to help himself, he gave her his trademark grin, loaded as usual with a lethal amount of charm. “Captain Jack Harkness. And you are?”
Somehow, it seemed ridiculous to be introducing himself to her.