On Martha Jones' first trip through time and space, the trio ends up in Shakespeare times where a nefarious plot is afoot.
***
The TARDIS shook violently, the passengers clinging on to the console for dear life. "But how do you travel in time? What makes it go?"
"Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything." The Doctor quipped. "Martha, you don't want to know. It just does. Hold on tight."
It came to a sudden halt, Martha tumbling onto the floor. "Blimey. Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"
"Yes, and I failed it." He replied.
"Of course, you did," said Willow, knowingly.
"Now, make the most of it. I promised you one trip and one trip only." He almost tripped as he grabbed his signature brown jacket. "Outside this door, brave new world."
"Where are we?" Martha asked in excitement.
Willow smiled. "Why don't you take a look?"
"After you." The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors, leading her to wander outside.
Her eyes widened in astonishment at the vision before her. The people looked scruffy in old clothing from the 1500s, something she had never expected to see in her life. The Doctor and Willow stepped out behind her. "Oh, you are kidding me. You are so kidding me. Oh, my God, we did it. We travelled in time. Where are we? No, sorry. I got to get used to this whole new language. When are we?"
He looked up, noticing someone about to throw a bucket of wee and poo their way. "Mind out." The Doctor pulled the girls back, just missing the buckets' contents.
"Gardez l'eau!" A man shouted from above, though it was already too late.
"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that." He insisted.
"That's disgusting," Willow stated, stepping over the puddle with an expression of loathing.
"I've seen worse. I've worked the late-night shift A+E." The Doctor also dodged the puddle, though Martha seemed hesitant. "But are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?"
Willow glanced back with confusion. "Yeah, of course. Why?"
"It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race." She informed them.
The couple shared a look, Willow almost shedding a giggle before the Doctor said. "Tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?"
"What if, I don't know, what if I kill my grandfather?" asked Martha.
They turned back. "Are you planning to?"
"No." She shyly responded.
"Good," Willow spoke. "Because that would be pretty concerning."
Martha followed them down the road, staring at everything in excitement. "And this is London?"
"I think so. Round about 1599." He told her.
"Oh, but hold on. Am I all right? I'm not going to get carted off as a slave, am I?" Martha frantically questioned.
"Why would they do that?" He queried in bewilderment.
His fiancée dropped her head in disappointment. "You're so thick."
"Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed." She pointed out.
"We're not even human. Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me." He persuaded her as they began to stroll through the street. "Besides, you'd be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time. Look over there. They've got recycling."
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