Alfie, Who?

The Gunman and The Wizard

"We're setting the TARDIS for London, 1851." Said The Doctor. "Hold on tight, Alfie." Alfie watched as The Doctor pulled levers and yanked cords and pushed buttons. The TARDIS made its tell tale rurring sound and rumbled like a medium earthquake as it took off. Alfie held on for dear life as the TARDIS came to a crashing halt. He and the Doctor had dressed in their finest Victorian era garb. The Doctor's bow tie fit his costume perfectly and he was quite pleased because of it.

    "Do I really have to wear these knickers?" He pulled at his long itchy stockings. "I look like a prat in this get up!"

    "You don't." The Doctor began. "Besides, this is what all the young lads your age are wearing this year!" And with that, he opened the TARDIS door. He stepped out, followed by Alfie (with Pennyfeather perched on his shoulder) whose eyes became wide with wonder at the vast difference between the London he had just left and the one in which he now stood.

    It was a cold, snowy, winter day when he left. Men and women were bundled in winter coats, mufflers and knit hats. cars made tracks around the roundabouts, and ice floated on the river Thames. Now, here they were in nineteenth century London in the Spring. The sky was overcast and the air was cool and wet with drizzle. Horse drawn carriages dominated the streets and gas lamps lit the way.

    "What first, Doctor?"

    "First, we'll hit the pub. I'm starving." Pointing across the street at a particularly rowdy sounding pub, he asks "Do you recon they've got fish fingers and vanilla custard in here?"

    "I don't think so, Doctor." Alfie laughed as they walked in.

    Inside there was cheering and laughter. Alfie and The Doctor walked in to find the place full of men, young and old, singing and celebrating. They found a corner table and took their seats. The bar wench came over and took their orders for shepherds pie and beer. After they ate their fill, The Doctor took his leave to talk to the men at the bar.

    After some time, The Doctor returned to find that Alfie had charmed his beer into an ice-cream shake. "I thought that underage magic was forbidden outside of school."

    "Well, the trace works until my 18th birthday. But..." He leans into The Doctor. "I haven't even been born yet!" He sips his ice-cream through a straw that The Doctor is sure that the bar wench did not give him.

    The Doctor nudges him with his elbow. "You!" He smiles and shakes his head at Alfie. "Anyway, do you have any idea who that gentleman is?"  He pointed to a burly looking man at the bar finishing off a pint. The man slams down his mug and motions  for more. He puts a hand on his hip, moving his coat to reveal a revolver on his hip.

    Alfie wrinkled his brow, shook his head no and took another sip of his sweet barley flavored ice cream. Pennyfeather sat on his lap. Between her wee paws was a small nibble of meat from Alfie's pie that she was enjoying.

    "That, Alfie, is none other than the famous American inventor and industrialist, Mr. Samuel Colt. He revolutionized the design and manufacturing of the revolver." At this, Alfie shook his head in recognition but only feigning interest. The Doctor waved his hands. "Well, he has informed me that there isn't a room for rent in the whole city. People have come from all over the world to visit The Great Exhibition"

    Alfie pushes his glass away. He's had quite enough. "Where are we going to stay, Doctor? Back in the TARDIS?

    "No, Alfie! We're going to have a true Victorian London experience. He has offered to share the apartment he is renting. His other roommate has died of cholera!" After observing the disturbed look on Alfie's face, The Doctor reassures him. "Just don't drink the water, Alfie. Stick to your beer, and that ice cream." He flicks a finger in the direction of Alfie's half empty cup.