Doctor Who: From the Beginning

Part 1.2: Two Drinks

Part 1.2: Two Drinks

Frances dragged him out of the shop. Now they were under the bright blue English sky during the summer months. “Come on let me buy you a drink!” Frances chirped.

“What date is it Frances?” the Doctor asked. Frances tugged at his back collar and escorted him towards the local tavern known as the King's Crown. It was decent size and certainly looked comfortable from the outside anyway; inside past the aged door was you're typical set up. Standing like a stone was the bartender his droopy moustache hid away his smile.

“The date is the twenty first of July in the year two-thousand and fourteen!” Frances exclaimed. She sat the Doctor beside her on a miniature table, she left him there and went over to the bartender.

“Frances, how are you love?” the bartender asked with a distinct Lancashire accent.

“Hello mate; I will take two pints of cider. Why not,” she shrugged her shoulders and looked to her new found stranger. The bartender placed the glasses in her hand. “Thanks,” she marched over to the Doctor. Arriving at the location of the tweed dressed man she decided to slam the glasses on the table.

“I don't drink!” the Doctor pushed the pint of local cider to the opposite corner of the table, Frances sat down on the stool topped off with an ancient looking fabric. The pattern though was unusual; normally it was something like diamonds or flowers. But this was very odd especially for the Doctor. The pattern it was Gallifreyan of origin, in fact it was ancient Gallifreyan. “What in the universe?” the Doctor said to himself.

“What is it?” Frances asked.

“The pattern on the chairs, has that never struck you as odd?” the Doctor asked. He climbed off the seat and began to study it. “Ancient Gallifreyan, certainly!” he murmured under his breath.

“It has never struck me as odd, just never noticed it?” Frances shrugged again.

“Really? That all that in an old pub!” the Doctor continued to study it. He pulled the Sonic Screwdriver out of his front pocket and began to run it across the blood red fabric.

“Why not ask Bob or something?” Frances smiled before taking a drink.

“Bob?” the Doctor popped his head up from under the table.

“Bob, Bob the bartender!” Frances indicated the direction; Bob looked to the Doctor confused. The Doctor dropped the stool back onto the wooden flooring and leapt up, still in mid air he turned about 90º degrees to Bob. He almost slid over to the man watching him behind the bar.

“Why do you have that pattern on the stools?” the Doctor investigated. His head bobbed as he asked the question.

“My mum liked it; so we chose that one!” Bob mumbled. He scratched at his forehead and looked over the Doctor's shoulder.

“What are you looking at?” the Doctor roared.

“Nothing?” Bob shivered.

“Come on, Bob. What are you looking at? Are you planning a daring escape, is there something behind me or are you just zoned out!” the Doctor took a deep breath. Bob was still shaking. After a short while he nodded his head again, the Doctor slowly rotated his body to reveal a strangely dressed man armed with some very advanced weaponry. “Well that is what you were looking at?” the Doctor laughed.

“Hello Doctor!” the mysterious man barked.

“Hello stranger?” the Doctor took four steps to his right in the direction of Frances.

“Doctor!” Frances pulled his jacket sleeve.

“Yes Frances,” the Doctor was now lying flat against the wall. The Time Lord extended his arm and grabbed his full pint. “Stand back,” the Doctor screamed as he chucked the cider across the mysterious man. “Frances I recommend we run,” the Doctor hopped and pushed through the back door. Frances waved, knocked over her stall and then proceeded to follow the Doctor out the back.

“Who was that?” Frances asked.

“You want the truth I suspect Frances! I have no idea, not once in my life have I seen a man like that. Actually that is a lie there was that incident with the security back on Australia Twelve, but hey ho that is another story I am afraid!” the Doctor rushed through the village towards his lonely blue box. Once he had made it he kicked in his precious TARDIS doors and rushed inside. Frances fell in behind him.

“What the?” Frances pushed herself up. She approached the TARDIS console and tempted herself not to touch any of the sinister looking buttons, knobs or switches. “What is this, its bigger on the-”.

“Inside, yes I know. Shut up please; I have had to here that too many times in my life and quite frankly one can not handle it,” the Doctor activated a scan of all xenotechnology in the area. The gramophone began to buzz. “Bingo!” the Doctor skipped over to a monitor inserted within the console. “Oh bother!” the Doctor grumbled.

“What, what is it?” Frances approached him.

“Those silly Ursan assassins, always out to get whoever they think will get them a bit of cash. Not the first time I have met them,” the Doctor continued to adjust the switches on the console.

“Who exactly are the Ursans?” Frances asked.

“Well that is a long story,” the Doctor sat down with a expression of happiness.