Lost In Temptation

22. Lost In Remnants

Doctor Martha Jones

"Martha, you cannot use the Sontaran Blaster to scare away the carollers." Mickey told me as the door went again, this time right as I had just gotten Lilly's nappy off to be changed. "Just ignore them and they'll go away, Babe."

"No, I have had enough of this, I am giving them a piece of my mind." I informed my husband who was mid removal of the chicken from the oven. So was unable to stop me from grabbing  the water and bubble gun that Uncle Jack had gotten  and sent for Lilly, determined to be better than Godmother, Star Watcher, Aunt LizBeth. Who was dead and technically couldn't fight back, but had already set her up for life, according to the UNIT accountant we stole and still used, because I hated trying to find one that didn't question why our business didn't exactly pay, but still survived. Gotta love Time Lords that could literally hack anything. "If this it yet more carol singers, I have a water pistol! You do not want to be all wet on a night like this!"

Then just doused the person on my front step, Lilly laughing at the bubbles that accompanied it. They just stood there, though, even now she was dripping wet. I didn't know her, she wasn't a neighbour or someone else who liked to come visit, not knowing another human that could help them.

She had long black brown hair surrounding a pale olive and freckled face that didn't seem like it really aged, or at least it had no frown or laugher lines. Someone who didn't show emotions often. Then there were blue eyes surrounded by naturally thick lashes.

Weirdly, the blue eyes were the only part of her that didn't really make sense, even though she was built like a lithe, Amazonian warrior, tall and muscled, wearing leathery cargo trousers that had a lot of pockets and a leather trench coat to match that hugged her little waist, yet it wasn't Lara Croft tiny, you could see that she was definitely built to fight, to work. All decked out in black, so her eyes seemed like they were too bright, a pure ultramarine colour that seemed almost purple in the light of my porch. 

"I was not carolling, nor singing at all."

"Well, you still knocked at a really bad time on Christmas Day." I replied, hefting my two and a half year old up my hip, covered by her big long nighty, given that she currently didn't have a nappy on. She was against potty training, as much as I tried. "Can I help you? Are you lost?"

"No, I am not lost, and yes, you can help me." This woman was clearly still learning the language, everything took ages to come out. "You are Doctor Martha Jones?"

You knocked on a door on Christmas Day, unsure if it was the right one. Definitely not local, and another told you that this was the best place for getting help settling. They just didn't understand local holidays either. "I am Martha Jones, yes, but professionally it's Dr Smith." She picked up a small box from behind her. "Not even Amazon Prime delivers on Christmas Day."

"I believe Mr Bezos would if he could, Dr Smith." I was passed the box, not heavy but there was definitely a couple of things in there. So I put Lilly down in the hall and closed the door. "It is safe, I promise."

You say that, but we had someone give us something that was safe for them, but definitely not safe for humans. "I don't know you, so I will have to scan it first." She made no move to stop me or say anything, so I ran a scan over it, having repurposed a few bits of broken tech to make a watch similar to Sarah Janes. "A few organic based food items, though apparently one is questionable what organic foods. Is this a Christmas hamper?"

There was a tiny shrug from her. "I suppose you could call it that, given the date."

So I pulled at the purple ribbon holding it closed, finding it hand made and somehow still perfect, and took the lid off if it and moved aside the tissue paper. To find a net of full sized, full fat Babybells, the cheapest, nastiest of sausage rolls with a reduced sticker on them because they were going out of date Boxing Day, cheese strings, Fridge Raiders, Mr Kipling's, and the cherry on the cake, at the bottom of the box, was a single, solitary pear.