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Doctor Who / All Creatures Great and Small, Tristan Farnon+the Fifth Doctor & Peri Brown, mistaken identity
Fandom: Doctor Who & All Creature Great And Small
Characters: The Fifth Doctor, Tristan Farnon, assorted others
Gen, c. 1200 words
"My dear fellow, I can see perfectly well that it's a cow. I just don't know what it is that you expect me to do with it." Beginning to feel as though he were talking to himself, the Doctor drew in a deep breath, horribly conscious that his hands were on his hips, and that this was not his most effective pose. Once upon a time it might have lent him a certain imposing force, but nowadays he was quite sure that he just looked ridiculous. He had caught a glimpse of his reflection in just such a position only recently, and had had to conclude that what might look redoubtable in a large man with an even larger silver bouffant, just didn't have the same effect in a rather slight young blond. Even if he was better looking now – or perhaps that was a part of the problem. Certainly the wellington-booted gentleman in front of him seemed unmoved.
"It be breaching," said the wellington-booted gentleman, and stuffed both hands into the pockets of his threadbare trousers. Since breaching was behaviour that the Doctor was rather more inclined to associate with whales, the statement only left him even more baffled.
"I really don't see what the personal habits of your bovine have to do with me." He considered edging slowly away. It was quite possible, after all, that the man was some kind of lunatic. Whilst in all probability he was perfectly harmless, in the Doctor's experience it was far more likely that he was a homicidal megalomaniac. Probably with a laser cannon secreted somewhere about his person. He eyed the man's cloth cap suspiciously. A good place to hide a weapon if ever he had seen one.
"Mrs Herriot said it were you on call this evening, Mr Farnon." There was a note of firmness in the other man's voice now. The suggestion of a man who did not intend to be denied. "I've got the soapy water." Indeed, he did, the Doctor noted – a bucket of the stuff, standing nearby, and steaming gently in the cool evening air. There was a piece of sacking as well, presumably to take the place of a towel. "If you'll just get undressed, she'll be needing seeing to."
"I..." This was growing more baffling by the minute. Precisely what he was supposed to do undressed, with a bucket of soapy water and a cow, the Doctor did not like to inquire. Quite frankly right now he would have preferred to be confronted by a homicidal megalomaniac. He scratched his head, and wished for Tegan. At least she knew how to deal with strange men.
"Mr Farnon..." There was impatience showing in the other man's voice now. The Doctor sighed. Clearly he had been mistaken for this Farnon fellow. He should probably attempt to explain. Beside him the cow let loose with a mournful lowing, and turned about, presenting him with a swollen and distended rear end. He blinked.
"She's going to have a baby! A... a calf, I mean. Something seems to be wrong though, doesn't it. Shouldn't you call..." He trailed off. The wellington-booted gentleman folded his arms, and glared at him meaningfully. Ah. Oh dear. Well, at least this explained a few things. Clearly the Farnon fellow was the local vet, and clearly he had already been called for. The Doctor looked around hopefully. Perhaps he would turn up? At any moment he might come strolling along, spurred by that same fortuitious sense of timing that had so often come to the rescue in the past. He didn't. There was nobody in sight, and the Doctor's shoulders slumped. The cow needed help, and all too obviously this was going to fall to him. He eyed the bucket of soapy water balefully. He could see what it was for now, which answered one of his questions. Many more remained. Still, he supposed that it could be worse. For one thing, he could be the cow.
"Everything alright, Mr Farnon?" asked his host. The Doctor gave the cow's flank the most authoritative pat that he could muster, whilst inwardly sighing up a storm. Oh for a sonic screwdriver. Not that it had had a pregnant cow setting anyway, but at least it would have given him something to try. Shrugging off his long coat, he muttered a general insult against rogue Terileptils – and the rest of the universe as well, just for good measure.
"There'll be a glass of home brew when you've finished," said Wellington Boots, as the Doctor heaved off his pullover. The Doctor smiled what he hoped was a suitable, not to mention confident, acknowledgement. It had better be a very good brew indeed. He also hoped that, wherever the Farnon fellow was, he was facing something fitting in penance. A band of marauding Daleks, perhaps. Cybermen. Ogrons. Wirrn. He'd settle for one small Zarbi with a sore head, just as long as the result was sufficiently humiliating. Two miles down the hill, somebody else was having rather similar thoughts.
**********
"I have you at my mercy, Doctor!" Cackling gleefully, the Master pointed his deadly tissue compression eliminator in a satisfyingly dramatic, two-handed grip. The human woman who accompanied the Doctor stood beside him, dulled into dreamy hypnosis, which he was hoping would gain a good reaction. The Doctor could always be called upon to get enjoyably hot-under-the-collar when his friends were inconvenienced. To his disappointment, rather than leap up with temper flaring, the youthful-looking blond in the ditch merely blinked dazedly, and gave his stricken car a thump.
"Sorry, old man, I think she's had it. Are you from the farm? We shall have to walk the rest of the way I'm afraid, which is dashed inconvenient, I know. Still, can't be helped. How is the old girl?"
"I... What?" The Master had been expecting a glare at the very least. More than likely one of the Doctor's interminable sermons on the general dastardliness of his behaviour. Struggling free of the car and the ditch, the young fellow brushed grass from his hair, and offered the Master a big, slightly breathless grin.
"Still, no harm done it seems. Everything intact. Well, on me anyway. Siegfried will probably give me what for about the car, but I haven't crashed one in ages, so he can't kick up too much fuss. But to business! The cow, yes? Ellie, isn't it? Well, come on, come on. Time's a-wasting."
"Cow? I have you right where I want you, Doctor!"
"Well yes, quite. Or nearly. Just a few more miles to go, and..." He trailed off, the presence of the young human woman having apparently just registered properly for the first time. There was no explosion of indignance, however. No breathless attempt at bartering for the safety of his friend. Instead he merely blinked, then smiled broadly.
"Pardon me, I've been terribly rude! Good evening, Miss...?" It was a confident, if somewhat baffling start, that faltered slightly when Peri merely stared emptily at him. "You're... I don't wish to seem... well it's just that I don't imagine that you're from around here. What with the, um... the sort of... pink... I say, is that swimwear?" The grin leapt back out. "It's jolly good. I'm Tristan Farnon, by the way. Local vet." Peri stared on, and the Master, beginning to wonder what in all of time and space he had stumbled into, remained similarly silent. Tristan Farnon? Either the Doctor had had a much worse car crash than he had believed, or he was up to something. The Master was inclined to go with the second option. As a general rule, Time Lord heads took a lot of knocking before they began to go wrong.
"I, um... Are you perhaps old Alf Naylor's niece? Granddaughter? Or an exchange student? I'm perfectly happy to show you the ropes, if you're at all interested in observing. Shouldn't be a difficult case. I gather it's just a calf that's being a bit obstinate. Um... I say, you do speak English, don't you? Only I should feel a bit of a fool if I'm babbling on like this for no good reason." He smiled again, broadly and – in the Master's opinion – somewhat inanely, eyes bright with an irritatingly good humour. Rather intrigued to know what precisely was going on, the Master clicked his fingers, releasing Peri from his spell. She stumbled slightly, then brightened at the sight of the Doctor.
"Doctor!" she all but squeaked, taking a step forward, before coming to an abrupt halt. She at least had some proper respect for the tissue compression eliminator. The Doctor brightened still further.
"Yes! Well, no. We don't generally go by 'doctor'. Not quite the done thing, you know. I don't mind, but if my brother – the other Mr Farnon, that is. Do you know him? Sort of... older? Wider? Noisier? No? Anyway, he'd bite your head off, and mine too. Still, that's not important right now, is it. Duty calls! We must be off!" He stepped to one side, as though inviting her to walk along with him. Peri hesitated, but a glare from the Master stilled her. She swallowed hard, and remained alongside her captor. The Doctor did not seem discouraged.
"Ah, yes. Best remain with the chaperone, I suppose. Quite right. Propriety, and... and all that. Still, I imagine there'll be plenty of opportunity to chat later. So come on, everyone. Let's get started." Setting off along the road at a brisk pace, he ignored the Master completely, and didn't appear even to notice the tissue compression eliminator. "We'll soon have that calf delivered, and then it'll be beer and toasted teacake all round. I say, are you two quite alright? You're awfully quiet. I didn't clip either of you with the car, did I? Only you did rather seem to pop up out of nowhere, and I admit that I was in a bit of a hurry."
"I..." said the Master, for the second time that evening.
"I..." said Peri, clearly similarly thrown. The Master was at least a little relieved to know that he wasn't alone in his confusion. What was this nonsense? A brother? The Doctor didn't have a brother. And what was this obsession with bovines? Muttering an ancient Gallifreyan curse, he exchanged a glance with Peri. The human girl merely shrugged, then set off after the Doctor. Did nobody recognise a threat anymore? Was he suddenly invisible? Well, if this was all part of some ridiculous trap, he could always rain fire and brimstone down upon Yorkshire later. In the meantime the Doctor was still striding ahead, chatting away, and casting what appeared to be hopeful glances in his companion's direction. Not knowing what else to do, the Master followed on. He could hear some ridiculous, one-sided conversation about Mrs Naylor's excellent toasted teacakes, and rolled his eyes. He would concoct a fine revenge to cleanse himself of this indignity. He would leave the Doctor's carcass dangling from some spreading oak tree. Up ahead, as the already one-sided conversation drifted into an apparently enthusiastic monologue on the complications of bovine pregnancy, he began to imagine that the human woman would soon be ready to help. Tucking the seemingly useless tissue compression eliminator into his tunic, the Master contented himself with trotting along at his enemy's heels. This would all go his way soon enough. As baffled as he was, he could at least rest assured that this was as strange as the day was likely to get.
The End
Doctor Who / All Creatures Great and Small, Tristan Farnon+the Fifth Doctor & Peri Brown, mistaken identity
Fandom: Doctor Who & All Creature Great And Small
Characters: The Fifth Doctor, Tristan Farnon, assorted others
Gen, c. 1200 words
"My dear fellow, I can see perfectly well that it's a cow. I just don't know what it is that you expect me to do with it." Beginning to feel as though he were talking to himself, the Doctor drew in a deep breath, horribly conscious that his hands were on his hips, and that this was not his most effective pose. Once upon a time it might have lent him a certain imposing force, but nowadays he was quite sure that he just looked ridiculous. He had caught a glimpse of his reflection in just such a position only recently, and had had to conclude that what might look redoubtable in a large man with an even larger silver bouffant, just didn't have the same effect in a rather slight young blond. Even if he was better looking now – or perhaps that was a part of the problem. Certainly the wellington-booted gentleman in front of him seemed unmoved.
"It be breaching," said the wellington-booted gentleman, and stuffed both hands into the pockets of his threadbare trousers. Since breaching was behaviour that the Doctor was rather more inclined to associate with whales, the statement only left him even more baffled.
"I really don't see what the personal habits of your bovine have to do with me." He considered edging slowly away. It was quite possible, after all, that the man was some kind of lunatic. Whilst in all probability he was perfectly harmless, in the Doctor's experience it was far more likely that he was a homicidal megalomaniac. Probably with a laser cannon secreted somewhere about his person. He eyed the man's cloth cap suspiciously. A good place to hide a weapon if ever he had seen one.
"Mrs Herriot said it were you on call this evening, Mr Farnon." There was a note of firmness in the other man's voice now. The suggestion of a man who did not intend to be denied. "I've got the soapy water." Indeed, he did, the Doctor noted – a bucket of the stuff, standing nearby, and steaming gently in the cool evening air. There was a piece of sacking as well, presumably to take the place of a towel. "If you'll just get undressed, she'll be needing seeing to."
"I..." This was growing more baffling by the minute. Precisely what he was supposed to do undressed, with a bucket of soapy water and a cow, the Doctor did not like to inquire. Quite frankly right now he would have preferred to be confronted by a homicidal megalomaniac. He scratched his head, and wished for Tegan. At least she knew how to deal with strange men.
"Mr Farnon..." There was impatience showing in the other man's voice now. The Doctor sighed. Clearly he had been mistaken for this Farnon fellow. He should probably attempt to explain. Beside him the cow let loose with a mournful lowing, and turned about, presenting him with a swollen and distended rear end. He blinked.
"She's going to have a baby! A... a calf, I mean. Something seems to be wrong though, doesn't it. Shouldn't you call..." He trailed off. The wellington-booted gentleman folded his arms, and glared at him meaningfully. Ah. Oh dear. Well, at least this explained a few things. Clearly the Farnon fellow was the local vet, and clearly he had already been called for. The Doctor looked around hopefully. Perhaps he would turn up? At any moment he might come strolling along, spurred by that same fortuitious sense of timing that had so often come to the rescue in the past. He didn't. There was nobody in sight, and the Doctor's shoulders slumped. The cow needed help, and all too obviously this was going to fall to him. He eyed the bucket of soapy water balefully. He could see what it was for now, which answered one of his questions. Many more remained. Still, he supposed that it could be worse. For one thing, he could be the cow.
"Everything alright, Mr Farnon?" asked his host. The Doctor gave the cow's flank the most authoritative pat that he could muster, whilst inwardly sighing up a storm. Oh for a sonic screwdriver. Not that it had had a pregnant cow setting anyway, but at least it would have given him something to try. Shrugging off his long coat, he muttered a general insult against rogue Terileptils – and the rest of the universe as well, just for good measure.
"There'll be a glass of home brew when you've finished," said Wellington Boots, as the Doctor heaved off his pullover. The Doctor smiled what he hoped was a suitable, not to mention confident, acknowledgement. It had better be a very good brew indeed. He also hoped that, wherever the Farnon fellow was, he was facing something fitting in penance. A band of marauding Daleks, perhaps. Cybermen. Ogrons. Wirrn. He'd settle for one small Zarbi with a sore head, just as long as the result was sufficiently humiliating. Two miles down the hill, somebody else was having rather similar thoughts.
"I have you at my mercy, Doctor!" Cackling gleefully, the Master pointed his deadly tissue compression eliminator in a satisfyingly dramatic, two-handed grip. The human woman who accompanied the Doctor stood beside him, dulled into dreamy hypnosis, which he was hoping would gain a good reaction. The Doctor could always be called upon to get enjoyably hot-under-the-collar when his friends were inconvenienced. To his disappointment, rather than leap up with temper flaring, the youthful-looking blond in the ditch merely blinked dazedly, and gave his stricken car a thump.
"Sorry, old man, I think she's had it. Are you from the farm? We shall have to walk the rest of the way I'm afraid, which is dashed inconvenient, I know. Still, can't be helped. How is the old girl?"
"I... What?" The Master had been expecting a glare at the very least. More than likely one of the Doctor's interminable sermons on the general dastardliness of his behaviour. Struggling free of the car and the ditch, the young fellow brushed grass from his hair, and offered the Master a big, slightly breathless grin.
"Still, no harm done it seems. Everything intact. Well, on me anyway. Siegfried will probably give me what for about the car, but I haven't crashed one in ages, so he can't kick up too much fuss. But to business! The cow, yes? Ellie, isn't it? Well, come on, come on. Time's a-wasting."
"Cow? I have you right where I want you, Doctor!"
"Well yes, quite. Or nearly. Just a few more miles to go, and..." He trailed off, the presence of the young human woman having apparently just registered properly for the first time. There was no explosion of indignance, however. No breathless attempt at bartering for the safety of his friend. Instead he merely blinked, then smiled broadly.
"Pardon me, I've been terribly rude! Good evening, Miss...?" It was a confident, if somewhat baffling start, that faltered slightly when Peri merely stared emptily at him. "You're... I don't wish to seem... well it's just that I don't imagine that you're from around here. What with the, um... the sort of... pink... I say, is that swimwear?" The grin leapt back out. "It's jolly good. I'm Tristan Farnon, by the way. Local vet." Peri stared on, and the Master, beginning to wonder what in all of time and space he had stumbled into, remained similarly silent. Tristan Farnon? Either the Doctor had had a much worse car crash than he had believed, or he was up to something. The Master was inclined to go with the second option. As a general rule, Time Lord heads took a lot of knocking before they began to go wrong.
"I, um... Are you perhaps old Alf Naylor's niece? Granddaughter? Or an exchange student? I'm perfectly happy to show you the ropes, if you're at all interested in observing. Shouldn't be a difficult case. I gather it's just a calf that's being a bit obstinate. Um... I say, you do speak English, don't you? Only I should feel a bit of a fool if I'm babbling on like this for no good reason." He smiled again, broadly and – in the Master's opinion – somewhat inanely, eyes bright with an irritatingly good humour. Rather intrigued to know what precisely was going on, the Master clicked his fingers, releasing Peri from his spell. She stumbled slightly, then brightened at the sight of the Doctor.
"Doctor!" she all but squeaked, taking a step forward, before coming to an abrupt halt. She at least had some proper respect for the tissue compression eliminator. The Doctor brightened still further.
"Yes! Well, no. We don't generally go by 'doctor'. Not quite the done thing, you know. I don't mind, but if my brother – the other Mr Farnon, that is. Do you know him? Sort of... older? Wider? Noisier? No? Anyway, he'd bite your head off, and mine too. Still, that's not important right now, is it. Duty calls! We must be off!" He stepped to one side, as though inviting her to walk along with him. Peri hesitated, but a glare from the Master stilled her. She swallowed hard, and remained alongside her captor. The Doctor did not seem discouraged.
"Ah, yes. Best remain with the chaperone, I suppose. Quite right. Propriety, and... and all that. Still, I imagine there'll be plenty of opportunity to chat later. So come on, everyone. Let's get started." Setting off along the road at a brisk pace, he ignored the Master completely, and didn't appear even to notice the tissue compression eliminator. "We'll soon have that calf delivered, and then it'll be beer and toasted teacake all round. I say, are you two quite alright? You're awfully quiet. I didn't clip either of you with the car, did I? Only you did rather seem to pop up out of nowhere, and I admit that I was in a bit of a hurry."
"I..." said the Master, for the second time that evening.
"I..." said Peri, clearly similarly thrown. The Master was at least a little relieved to know that he wasn't alone in his confusion. What was this nonsense? A brother? The Doctor didn't have a brother. And what was this obsession with bovines? Muttering an ancient Gallifreyan curse, he exchanged a glance with Peri. The human girl merely shrugged, then set off after the Doctor. Did nobody recognise a threat anymore? Was he suddenly invisible? Well, if this was all part of some ridiculous trap, he could always rain fire and brimstone down upon Yorkshire later. In the meantime the Doctor was still striding ahead, chatting away, and casting what appeared to be hopeful glances in his companion's direction. Not knowing what else to do, the Master followed on. He could hear some ridiculous, one-sided conversation about Mrs Naylor's excellent toasted teacakes, and rolled his eyes. He would concoct a fine revenge to cleanse himself of this indignity. He would leave the Doctor's carcass dangling from some spreading oak tree. Up ahead, as the already one-sided conversation drifted into an apparently enthusiastic monologue on the complications of bovine pregnancy, he began to imagine that the human woman would soon be ready to help. Tucking the seemingly useless tissue compression eliminator into his tunic, the Master contented himself with trotting along at his enemy's heels. This would all go his way soon enough. As baffled as he was, he could at least rest assured that this was as strange as the day was likely to get.
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Sort of... older? Wider? Noisier? Lol.
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"If you'll just get undressed, she'll be needing seeing to."
lol... You don't have to be a visiting alien timetraveller to find that alarming.
, he could always rain fire and brimstone down upon Yorkshire later.
How would anyone tell the difference regarding local weather conditions?
Reeeeallly funny! A continuation with the Master and the Doctor forced to sub for the Farnons due to some intergalactic crisis - forced co-operation, acquiring of specialized knowledge, strong opinions about exotic pets, stand-up rows while co-writing learned journal papers, midnight callouts - would be pretty great...
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And thank you!
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That's until Siegfried decides he's technically on secondment replacing The Master, and starts practising his insane giggle and hand-rubbing...
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I can see him in the Master's shoes, certainly. He'd take great delight in lording it over poor Tristan, and making wild threats about eviscerating him. Whilst James sighs and rolls his eyes over in the corner.
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(Sorry it's taken me a while to get around to it, but last time I tried, it claimed the entry was locked just to thwart me. That's what you get for putting the Master in things.)
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Thank you. :)