A Tardis Full Of Bras

The misplaced demi-god

Christmas

1844

Cranford, Cheshire

A lightning bolt flashes connecting with the earth violently – a strange circle is suddenly embedded on the ground near the new railway construction site.

A dog barks.

A dark figure disappears into the night.

In the shadows a second figure lurks, watching, seeing all, but saying nothing. This was a complication, a complication he didn't need, but like all complications it could be dealt with yes even this mischief maker could be dealt with.

Christmas

2019

A park, London, England

It was really altogether too cold to be sat here on Hampstead Heath on a bench on 23rd of December but something was wrong, that's what the Tardis had obviously thought – dumping the Doctor here unceremoniously ten minutes earlier.

She'd been heading to Barcelona – not the city – the planet. But that finicky blue box had brought her here – now. Two days out from the holiday she was avoiding.

Two days out from Christmas.

The Doctor never did Christmas – not if she could help it.

Not ever.

Sure, there had been a few she had celebrated over the past 2000 years but living in a town called Christmas for a Millennia had made the thought of marking the day even more unappealing in recent times.

At least here in 2019 it wasn't a formal occasion – no fancy scarves, waistcoats, and long-coats – she wasn't that man anymore. Hell now, thanks to this regeneration, if she had a "traditional" Christmas somewhere in the past she'd be expected to wear long dresses, bonnets and, heaven forbid – corsets. No, the Doctor had never been one for corsets – okay there had been that one regeneration, but she didn't talk about him.

No, if she had to do Christmas, she'd do it sat in front of the telly watching the Eastenders special, eating a turkey vindaloo with her latest companion. Or home in the Tardis, bra off, feet up, slippers on – a rare day off.

Yes, that was it.

This year the Doctor would have a day off. No adventures in space and time – not unless they were on Netflix.

Her Christmas was sorted and nothing was going to change that!

Nothing!

Bang, Flash, Boom.

Except that.

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled drawing the Doctor from her thoughts and her chip buttie.

"Odd, very odd indeed," she said to no-one in particular. Lightning and Thunder weren't usually that strange but when the sun was out and the sky was oddly clear, they were very peculiar indeed.

However not as peculiar as the armor-clad Norse warrior that was now stood in front of her on the Heath no less.

"Doctor – I'm Thor of Asgard – I need your help – Loki's gone missing and I was told you were the....," Thor looked at her then, his eyes wide. Had he got the wrong person? He'd been expecting some grizzled old man from Loki's description but Mjolnir had brought him here – to her – a brown-eyed blonde who was most definitely not old and decidedly unmale.

"Man, to help," he finished.

"Sorry mam – I must have locked on to the wrong signal," he said turning away.

The Doctor smiled – this was happening to her a lot in this regeneration.

"If you are looking for the Doctor I'm him – well her this time – never know quite what you're going to get," she said standing up and offering the Prince of planet Asgard her hand. He towered over her 5'6 frame – it wasn't the shortest she'd been, not by a long shot, but next to the 6'4 man mountain that was the imposing, bearded and armor-clad Asgardian the Doctor did look diminutive. Not that height had ever stopped the Timelord before.

Despite his stature, Thor suddenly looked like a wide-eyed little boy in a man suit.

"Shapeshifter?" he asked in a shocked tone, was she like Loki – was that why he'd insisted on contacting the Doctor if they lost contact?

"Timelord," she deadpanned back to him and recognition flashed in Thor's eyes. He'd heard of the Timelords, not a race to be trifled with not even by the Aesir – who themselves were considered by many to be gods, or at the very least demi-gods – no these Timelords were truly powerful beings. Not that this one looked too worrisome – she was small, blonde and curvaceous – some would say pretty or even beautiful. But Thor was a seasoned warrior, he knew better than to judge a book by its cover, that she was much more than she seemed.

"How can I help," the Timelord asked sitting back down and taking a bite out of her rapidly cooling buttie nonchalantly.

Thor plonked himself on the bench beside her. He hardly fit and almost knocked her off the bench with the vigor but she seemed unfazed quietly finishing her sandwich and trying not to get covered in gravy (again).

"My brother Loki believed he had found the last infinity stone here on Midgard – Earth," he said watching the petite woman work her way through her strange nourishment.

"He followed the signal to Chee Shire and he had been checking in but I haven't heard from in a few days," he added running has hand through his close-cropped blonde hair.

"So, you've lost the God of Mischief?" she asked finishing off her food and tossing the wrapper nonchalantly in the nearby bin with a shot Michael Jordan would be proud of.

"You've lost more than six-foot worth of frost giant?" she asked turning back to him. He nodded sheepishly.

"Bit careless, isn't it?? Have you checked down the back of the sofa?" she teased.

Thor laughed.

"He said you were a feisty one, no but Doctor I am worried about him he may be a mage, a skilled fighter and a pain in the arse, but I still worry about him and he promised me he'd check in," Thor said seriously, running his hand through his hair again.

"So where is he – surely you can find him yourself?" the Doctor said turning to look at the Asgardian properly.

"You see that's the problem Doctor – it's not so much where as when!"