Type: Fan Fictions
A short Doctor Who drabble in which Mr Smith contacts the Doctor after Sarah-Jane's death.
In memory of Elisabeth Sladen 1946-2011
The Doctor whizzed around through the Time Vortex. Amy and Rory, they were back at home doing whatever boing human-y things they did when the weren't travelling with the Doctor. No, he thought, this is a lot more fun.
He had been across the universe and back, visiting the planet made out of water, and the planet of never-ending-Christmas, and the moon where bow ties were banned. He had got into a sticky situation then; his bow tie was cool, he had insisted. He had only finally taken it off when they threatened to excute him which wouldn't have been fun at all.
He always got into some sort of mishap. And after replacing his bow tie he was back across the stars, wondering where next to go.
"The planet of dust," he said absent-mindedly to himself. "I think that would be fun. Dust-castles, I wonder if that's a thing? I bet I could make a bow tie, or a K-9..." He trailed off, lost in memory of the tin dog.
The phone rang. The Doctor jumped. Few people knew how to contact the TARDIS and 99% of the time it wasn't a good thing he was getting told about. Still, he was ever the optimist and he answered the phone merrily.
"Hello! It's the Doctor! Though I suppose you must know this already, I mean hardly anyone calls the TARDIS by accident. Even though-"
"Greetings, Doctor." It was Mr Smith, the super computer that resided in Sarah-Jane's attic. He had been so young and happy when she had travelled with him. But now was no time for losing himself in memories. Mr Smith had sounded grave.
"What can I do for you?" The Doctor asked, fear and doubt spreading through his mind.
"I'm afraid there is bad news." The Doctor took a sharp breath. "Doctor, I'm sorry, but Sarah-Jane passed away."
The Doctor dropped the phone. The TARDIS rerouted the call onto the screen. The Doctor dropped to his knees, groaning with raw emotion. His hands quickly became damp from his sobs.
"I'm so sorry." The Doctor was sat on the floor, rocking gently.
"No..." He was heartbroken again. Sarah-Jane was one of his best friends; she had met 9 of his regenerations. Now she would never meet any more.
The TARDIS landed. The Doctor only barely heard the vworp, vworp of the engines. Forcing himself to his feet, he looked at the screen. "Oh." he said simply. Mr Smith began talking about protocols-this and maintaining-things-that. He soon realised that the Doctor wasn't paying any attention and abandoned the call.
The Doctor was alone.
After a while of collecting himself, possibly minutes or hours, the Doctor exited the TARDIS. A thin grey mist covered the ground and everything was bleak and grey and cold. Fitting for a graveyard.
Wandering past the lonely headstones he found the one he was looking for. New. Sharp. Cold.
The Doctor knelt with the lonely tin dog for a while.