Untold Knowledge (Doctor Who x Genius Fem! Oc) [Book 1]

Chapter 73: The Shakespeare Code

Echo looked around the room with curiosity as Martha stood holding a candle. "It's not exactly five stars, is it?" the human woman said as she kept her eyes on them.

"Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse." the Doctor replied as the door was closed.

"You once slept in a junkyard, my love." Echo reminded absently, then sat down on one of the two beds.

The Doctor continued to look around with mild curiosity before joining his beloved on their bed. "So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise. It's all a bit Harry Potter." Martha joked, not quite sure what to do with herself.

"Wait till you read book seven. Oh, I cried." he commented, thinking back to when he and Echo had read the entire book together in one sitting.

Martha, however, continued. "But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that. Is it real?"

"Sadly, no. It looks like witchcraft, but it can't be." Echo replied as Martha sat on her own bed.

"There's such a thing as psychic energy, but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of Taunton and I think we'd have spotted that." the Doctor went on. "No, there's something I'm missing, Martha. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it. Rose'd know... A friend of ours, Rose. Right now, she'd say exactly the right thing." As he spoke of the blonde, Echo couldn't help but frown with sorrow. "Still, can't be helped. You're a novice, never mind... I'll take you back home tomorrow."

Martha grimaced at the reminder. "Great." then blew out the candle lighting the room. Echo rolled her eyes and flicked her beloved in the forehead as they snuggled closer.

In the early hours of morning, the three travellers awoke to the sound of a woman screaming down the hall. Without wasting time, they all got up and rushed to Shakespeare's room. "What? What was that?" the man in question sleepily asked as he too awoke with a start.

The Doctor went to inspect the then dead woman, who was laying motionless on the floor. Martha, in the meantime, went to the window to see anything she could. "Her heart gave out. She died of fright." the Time Lord said with furrowed brow.

"Uhm... Doctor, Echo?" they heard Martha say in shock.

Without skipping a beat, they then rushed to her side to try and see what she had. "What was it?" Echo asked, hoping for something spectacular.

"A witch." she answered, her eyes fixed on the empty sky.

The travellers were sat in Shakespeare's room after Dolly's body was taken away and the sun was just beginning to rise. The human man was grieving over the loss of the unique woman to have filled many of his nights with great enjoyment. "Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place when we all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit." he pondered aloud.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light." the Doctor mumbled absently as he finished braiding his Echo's hair.

"I might use that." Shakespeare praised.

But the thoughtful Time Lord shook his head, "You can't. It's someone else's."

"But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you." Martha said, wanting to get back on the more important subject.

Shakespeare gave her a confused look. "You're accusing me?"

She then shook her head and explained her thoughts more thoroughly. "No, but I saw a witch. Big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches."

"I have? When was that?"

Echo sighed at the common mistake. "Not quite yet." she whispered, gaining from Martha a sheepish expression. It was in that moment that the Doctor tied off his love's hair, finishing the perfect fish-tale with ease.

"Peter Streete spoke of witches." the playwright then pointed out as the errant thought passed through his mind.

"Who's Peter Streete?" Martha questioned curiously.

"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe." William answered, hoping to be as much help as he possibly could.

The Time Lord's eyes widened at the information. "The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect! The Globe! Come on!" he exclaimed as he hurried out of the room with excitement in his every step.

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Once in the Globe Theatre, they all stood by or on the stage to continue their investigation. "The columns there, right? Fourteen sides. I've always wondered, but I've never asked. Tell me, Will. Why fourteen sides?" the Doctor inquired with curiosity fueling his mind.

"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all. Said it carried the sound well." he answered with a shrug.

"Fourteen, though. That sounds familiar. Doesn't it?" Echo asked as she, too, looked around at the walls towering above them.

"There's fourteen lines in a sonnet." Martha said, trying to help where she could. To be honest, she felt completely out of her depth. But she knew that the only way to grow and improve was to dive in without fear of failure.

"So there is. Good point. Words and shapes following the same design. Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets. Oh, my head. Tetradecagon. Think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!" the Doctor rambled mainly to himself, forcing his virtually limitless mind to work at a pace of his choosing.

Shakespeare, too, didn't know how to help. The feeling of being unsure was like a breath of fresh air for him. "This is just a theatre." he brushed off, not sure what they were getting at.

The Doctor immediately shook his head and walked towards him from the ground floor. "Oh yeah, but a theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis at the right time. Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy. Change them." He then heard what he was saying. "You can change people's minds just with words in this place. But if you exaggerate that..."

"It's like your police box. Small wooden box with all that power inside." Martha said, gaining her approving looks from the both of them.

"Oh. Oh, Martha Jones, I like you. Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know best. Can we talk to him?" the Doctor then asked hopefully.

"You won't get an answer." Shakespeare answered with a shake of his head. "A month after finishing this place, lost his mind."

"Why? What happened?" Martha wondered, confused by the unusual occurance.

"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled." he brushed off again.

But neither Echo nor her Doctor cared if the man they were looking for was crazy. Join the club, honestly. "Where is he now?" she practically demanded.

"Bedlam." came William's only reply. His distaste for the place was clear, but there was another emotion for it in his heart and mind.

"What's that?" Martha asked with befuddlement.

Not having expected their lack of knowledge after such showings of intelligence, the writer went on while being taken very much aback. "Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse."

"We have to go there. Right now. Come on." The Doctor then took Echo's hand and proceeded to exit the building altogether.

"Wait! I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand." William immediately said as two young men came walking into the room. Obviously, they were those who acted out the best plays in history. "Ralph, the last scene as promised. Copy it, hand it round, learn it, speak it. Back before curtain up. And remember, kid, project. Eyes and teeth. You never know, the Queen might turn up." He then walked away and followed after his new friends. "As if. She never does."