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[221B again. Jo is putting the finishing touches to her makeup. Martha enters, dressed in her walking-the-Earth costume.]
Master / Narrator :
Holmes walked out with the maid for several evenings, until he had all the information he needed. Then he revealed his plan to Watson.Jo / Holmes :
I thought we'd go and see Li H'sen Chang this evening. That show has some wonderful reviews.Martha / Watson [in an angry whisper] :
You're supposed to be planning to burgle Milverton's house.Jo / Holmes :
Oh, please? We're both really looking forward to it. Dalek Zeta would be so disappointed if I didn't show.Martha / Watson :
That's his name, is it? Zeta?Jo / Holmes :
Yes, didn't I tell you? Of course, he calls me Sherlock and I call him Agatha. He's very sweet.Martha / Watson :
Oh, please. Someone pass me a sick bag.Master / Narrator :
Are either of you two actually going to make yourselves useful and move the plot along?Martha [losing her temper] :
No! I'm fed up with having to tell everyone how this thing is supposed to happen! Look at me. I've had to go and get hold of all this burgling gear and now all Jo's interested in is making eyestalks at her death-machine boyfriend. [She rounds on Jo.] What about Cliff, anyway?Jo :
Oh, he's very understanding. We have an open engagement.Master / Narrator :
So, you're going to go on strike, are you?Martha :
Yes, I am. And if you're thinking of threatening me with the Bradleyard, don't bother. I was in 'Last Of The Time Lords', matey. Do you think even he could match that?Master / Narrator :
Ooh, mi-aow. You know your trouble? You don't eat enough rhubarb. I'm going to put that in my next manifesto, you know. "Everyone should eat much more rhubarb". Though, to be fair, you've got a point. You couldn't drag Doctor/Master slash subtext out of the Bradleyard even if you used Rodrigo's tow truck. Anyway, are you going to do anything or am I supposed to find your hissy fit impressive?Martha :
I'm going to do this.[She activates the Vortex Manipulator on her wrist, and vanishes in a blue haze.]
Master / Narrator :
Oi! That's cheating! [He pauses to get his temper under control.] Now, Miss Grant—[But Jo is also missing, having long since departed to keep her appointment with Dalek Zeta.]
Master / Narrator :
Oh, great. No Holmes and no Watson.
He flipped through the remaining pages of the story.
Master / Narrator :
They've got precious little to do from now on. You might as well cast pig-slaves or marshmen...[With a puff of smoke, François the Ogron appears, a deerstalker balanced on his head at a precarious angle and a sock puppet of a cat on his hand.]
Master / Narrator :
... or even Ogrons. What did I do to deserve this?François / Holmes :
In Ogrons' opinion, skinny weasel-man incompetent. Same reason weasel-man destroying one quarter of known universe without meaning to. [He turns to his glove puppet.] Doctor Moggy got all burgling kit?[He replies to himself in a falsetto voice, miming movements with the glove puppet.]
François / Watson :
<Yes, Holmes. Crowbar. Little hammer. Big hammer. Sledge hammer. Club with nail in it.>Master / Narrator [gritting his teeth] :
So they crept up to the silent, gloomy house...[A darkened bungalow, surrounded by a high wall. Various crashing noises are heard, and François smashes a hole in the wall with his sledgehammer.]
Master / Narrator :
There was a ferocious dog on guard.[The werewolf from 'Tooth and Claw' bounds towards François. He picks it up with one hand and casually bashes it with his club. It collapses. François kicks the conservatory door down, and marches into the house.]
Master / Narrator :
"Stealthy." I think not. You can't trust an Ogron to get anything right. They crept carefully through the house, but the only creature they met was a cat.[A corridor. François is walking along it. A Cheetah person opens a door to one side, leans out, and waves, to the accompaniment of tinkly showbiz music. François makes his sock puppet bow low in return.]
Master / Narrator :
And before long, they got to the study.[Milverton's study. A heavy curtain conceals a bay window. In the middle of the room is a table; in the corner, a safe.
Master / Narrator :
Watson spotted that the outer door wasn't locked. He drew Holmes's attention to it.François / Watson :
<Bitchy trampoline leaving door unlocked. Surely this contrary to regular security procedure.>François / Holmes :
François not caring. Doctor Moggy taking good care to keep rubberneckers away while François open safe.[He launches into a prolonged and noisy attack on the safe, with his hammers and crowbar.]
Master / Narrator :
At the very moment that they managed to break into the safe, Holmes heard approaching footsteps! At once they hid behind the curtain.François :
Why? Someone come, someone get bashed. No problem.Master / Narrator :
Because I say so. And if you don't, I'll dock your pay.François :
François getting pay for this? News to François.[He nevertheless hides behind the curtain. Cassandra glides into the room, accompanied by her guards. One guard stands in front of her and holds out the Times, turning the pages every now and again. The other one moisturises Cassandra from time to time.]
Master / Narrator :
Milverton sat there reading while Holmes and Watson grew more and more impatient. But then...[The clock moves forward another hour. Someone knocks at the door.]
Cassandra / Milverton :
Open the door.[A guard does so. A woman enters. She has a veil over her face and is wearing a cloak.]
Cassandra / Milverton :
Moisturise me. Then leave us alone.[The guards spray her, and depart.]
Cassandra / Milverton :
Now, let us get down to business. You say you have five letters which compromise the Countess d'Albert. You want to sell them. I want to buy them...[The woman removes her veil. It's Ace.]
Cassandra / Milverton :
Oh. It's you.Ace :
Yeah. And you'd better say your prayers, scumbag, because you're dead meat.Cassandra / Milverton :
Don't imagine that you can bully me. I have only to raise my voice, and I could call my servants and have you arrested.Ace :
Think again, Posh Spice.[She draws her blaster, and puts a bolt into Cassandra's brain tank, which blows up in a shower of tomato sauce.]
"That's not wight," Baby Nyssa said. "There shouldn't be blood everywhere."
That statement got her several astonished stares.
"It should be bwain fluid," she continued calmly. "You could use lemonade if you let it go flat first. And cauliflower and wice pudding for the bits of bwain..."
Tegan put her hand up.
"Mister," she said. "I fink Dodo's going to be fwow up."
[Ace wipes a splash of ketchup off her face.]
Ace :
Toerag.[She leaves. We hear her motorbike rev up, and fade away.]
François / Holmes :
That saving François some work. Back to guarding door, Doctor Moggy.[François takes hold of the safe door, and pulls it clean off.]
François / Holmes :
Now we burn papers.[He starts throwing papers onto the fire. Gradually the fire increases in size, until the carpet is burning as well.]
François / Holmes :
Remember to keep good watch, Doctor Moggy.[A Sea Devil dressed in a butler's costume tries to push its way in. He casually clubs it without looking.]
François / Watson :
<Yes, Holmes. More people coming.>[François tips the last of the blackmailing papers on the fire.]
François / Holmes :
There. All on fire. Time to go.François / Watson :
<Look. Violent lady was leaving this by door.>[He points the sock puppet at a large black sphere marked BOMB in 60-point Times New Roman. A smouldering fuse is attached to it.]
François / Watson :
<Perhaps if we restoring lost property to violent lady, lady give reward?>François / Holmes :
No, Doctor Moggy. François world-famous detective, not cloakroom attendant. Lady leave stuff lying around, lady expect to lose stuff. Time to go.[He kicks the door down (though it wasn't locked) and saunters off.]
Master / Narrator:
Behind them, the huge house was one blaze of light.[Behind them, the huge house is wiped from the face of the earth in a spectacular detonation.]
The shouting and cheering was, if anything, even louder this time.
"I can hear that!" Izzy's voice called. Her footsteps were rapidly approaching. "And where's all the tomato sauce gone?"
She burst through the door and took in the chaotic scene.
"You've done it again, haven't you?" she asked.
"Oh, so it's all down to me?" The Master shot a savage glare at her. "Let me say this to the right honourable lady. This is all Martha Jones's fault. If she hadn't skived off halfway through none of this would have happened. She's not getting any more starring rôles in my stories, I promise you. She can have a backbench career and like it."
Izzy waved a hand dismissively.
"I don't care whose fault it is. You can stop and you can stop now. It'll take hours to get these children settled down again."
"But there's only one more scene!" the Master protested.
"I don't care if there's only one more line. Dalek!"
An imperial Dalek glided into the room.
"Mr. Saxon is leaving now. Make sure he does."
"YOU WILL NOT RESIST," the Dalek said, forcibly conducting the Master to the main door.
Izzy turned back in the direction of the kitchen, only to see Baby Peri wandering towards her.
"Peri?" she asked. "What happened?"
Peri held up her finger triumphantly.
"It comed out all by itself," she said. "But the plug got stuck in the sink and I can't turn the tap off and there's a lot of water coming over the side."
"I was a plumber in the story!" Jo volunteered, waving a plastic wrench. "I'll sort it out!"
"I want to be a plumber too!" Vicki shouted.
"And me!"
About half the toddlers stampeded from the room.
Little Jamie gently wiped the tears from Victoria's face. Unfortunately for Victoria, he was using a painting rag to do this.
"There, there," he said. "I'm sure yon puir doggie wasnae blown up at the end. He probably went back tae Scotland. Aye, he'd like it there."
"It was still a horrid story," Victoria said, her lip trembling.
"I thought it was funny," Jamie said. "What d'ye reckon, Zoë?"
Zoë, who had been methodically tearing a very large sheet of shiny paper into very small strips, looked up.
"I think the Principia Mathematica would have been much more interesting," she said primly.
"Aye, but when we had Macbeth ye said... that thing... would have been better," Jamie pointed out. "And there's nothing better than Macbeth."
"The Principia is a very interesting book." As if to indicate that any further argument was futile, she went back to her paper-tearing.
Jamie looked around for support, in vain. Nyssa and Ace were busy trying to construct what they considered an accurate exploding brain model. Victoria was seeking solace in the arms of the nursery's latest toy, a knitted Adipose five times the proper size. Everyone else seemed to be either in the kitchen, or peering avidly through the doorway at the deteriorating situation therein.
"Well," he said to himself. "I liked it, anyway."
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