Storytime! The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual

"Miss?"

Izzy looked down. The little Tenth Doctor was tugging at her skirt.

"Yes, what is it, sweetie?"

"Miss, there's a monster in the store cupboard. It's got red fur and big teef."

Izzy patted the toddler on the head. "All right. I'll go and see about it."

The balance of probabilities was that this was just imagination. In her experience, it wasn't more than one time in three that there actually was a monster where the children thought one was. But just in case it wasn't all caused by overactive imaginations, she retrieved a few essentials from a locked drawer of the Supervisor's desk: holy water, silver dust, and a .75 recoilless semiautomatic pistol.

When she reached the cupboard, the door was standing ajar, with a worried semicircle of toddlers round it.

"Stand back," she told them. "I'm going in."

Opening the door just wide enough to fit through, she slipped into the cupboard. In the light from the room outside, she could see that everything was calm, tidy and ordered. There was no sign of any kind of monster.

She turned to leave. As she did so, the door slammed shut. The whirr of a sonic screwdriver was heard, followed by an ominous click from the lock.

The toddlers looked round as two vaguely blurred areas of the room became the Tenth Doctor and River Song, both removing modified TARDIS keys from around their necks.

"Well done, that Doctor," the Tenth Doctor said, ruffling his toddler counterpart's hair.

"She took a big gun in there with her," little Martha pointed out.

"Oh, well spotted. Rose herself couldn't have done better. Fortunately" — he raised his voice, to make sure Izzy could hear him — "She wouldn't try to shoot the lock out, because in that confined space the results would be disastrous. And she knows I don't mean any harm. I'm just going to tell the children a nice story."

From within the cupboard came a strangled scream of rage.

"Now, perhaps one of you helpful little children could show me where the storybook is? Molto bene. Allons-y, River."

"'Rose couldn't have done better'?" River said, as they crossed to the storyteller's chair. "You really need to work on your compliments."

Lying on the chair, the storybook somehow drew the eye. Despite not having any movable features, it looked positively eager.

Tenth Doctor / Narrator :
One of the ways Sherlock Holmes used to annoy Doctor Watson was how untidy he was. He kept cigars in the coal scuttle, tobacco in a Persian slipper...

[221B Baker Street, night. Heaps of paper are everywhere. The plaster on one wall is riddled with bullet holes, which form the letters "V.R.". Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson are sitting either side of the fire.]

Peri / Watson [dressed as a Victorian gentleman] :
...And I found this in the butter dish! What's it supposed to be?

Sixth Doctor / Holmes [in his usual multicoloured coat] :
Ah, the tip of the dagger from the Tyler case. I wondered where that had got to. Do you know, Watson, when I found this, trodden into the dirt of the farmyard...

Peri / Watson :
I'm never eating butter out of that dish again!

Sixth Doctor / Holmes :
Do you good. Butter's fattening, you know.

Peri / Watson :
Listen. Enough's enough. Tidy this room up or... or else.

Sixth Doctor / Holmes :
I suppose I could file some of these papers. Would that help?

Peri / Watson :
It'd be a start, I suppose. Get on with it.

[Holmes disappears, and returns shortly pulling a sizeable tin box behind him. He opens it; it has a large number of bundles of paper in it, but is nothing like full.]

Sixth Doctor / Holmes :
There are cases enough here, Watson. I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.

Peri / Watson :
Pull the other one.

Sixth Doctor / Holmes :
No, seriously. There are some pretty little problems here. Here's the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Geng Singh and his killer cats, and the adventure of Project Zeta Sigma. And here...

[He delves in the chest, and produces a small wooden box with a sliding lid. This he opens, revealing a crumpled piece of paper, an old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached, and three rusty old disks of metal.]

Sixth Doctor / Holmes :
What d'you make of this, then?

Peri / Watson :
What is it? A prison escape kit? That's amazing. All you need is a small painted wooden duck and you'll be across the Swiss border by nightfall.

Sixth Doctor / Holmes :
Sarcasm does not become you, Watson.

Peri / Watson :
Neither does my costume, but that's nothing new.

Sixth Doctor / Holmes :
These are all I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.

[He turns away, and starts sorting the scattered papers into neat heaps. After about twenty seconds, Watson's impatience gets the better of her.]

Peri / Watson :
All right, I give in. What was the Musgrave Ritual?

Sixth Doctor / Holmes :
Well, I could tell you. But not if I've got to tidy up as well.

Peri / Watson [sighing deeply] :
Go on, have it your own way.

[Holmes takes a thought projector from the case, and puts it on his head.]

Peri / Watson :
One thing. Whatever happens, no chickens. Got that?

Sixth Doctor / Holmes :
Really, Peri, I don't know where you get these notions.

[The mirror above the fireplace blanks out and shows the younger Holmes, living in a cheap room in Montague Street. He is portrayed by the First Doctor. We zoom in on the image.]

Sixth Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
When I was starting out as a detective, hardly anyone would employ me.

Peri / Watson (vo) :
Can't think why.

Sixth Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
Now and again cases came my way, mostly through the introduction of old fellow-students...

[The Rani enters.]

Rani :
Any word?

First Doctor / Holmes :
Well, yes, my dear lady, my endeavours have been crowned with a certain amount of success.

[He hands her a cat in a basket.]

Rani [spitting the words out as though they were poison] :
Mr. Holmes, I cannot thank you enough for returning my beloved Tibbles to me. [To the cat, very stiltedly] Ahh. Who's a good little kitty.

Sixth Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
The third of these cases was that of the Musgrave Ritual. Reginald Musgrave was a rather shy aristocrat I knew slightly at college. In appearance he was a man of exceedingly aristocratic type, thin, high-nosed, and large-eyed, with languid and yet courtly manners.

[The Monk enters. He is dressed, per the script, as a young man of fashion. It would seem that he had quite a struggle getting into the costume.]

Monk / Reginald Musgrave :
Hello there. You remember me, don't you, old chap?

First Doctor / Holmes [clutching his lapels, and glaring] :
I most certainly do.

Peri / Watson (vo) :
Oh, that's a relief. Whenever the book talks about refined, shy aristocrats I know it's casting sideways glances at my husband.

First Doctor / Holmes :
And how have you been misspending your time these last four years?

Monk / Musgrave :
You have probably heard of my poor father's death...

[The Celestial Toymaker is seen, standing at one side of a table with a Monopoly board on it. On the other side is Mel.]

Mel :
Trafalgar Square with a hotel. That's mine. Eleven hundred pounds, please.

Toymaker / Musgrave senior [pushing three Monopoly one pound notes across the table] :
This is all I have.

Mel :
I suppose that means I win. Wasn't that fun?

Toymaker / Musgrave senior :
Defeated! No! This cannot beeeee!

[He spreads his arms and disappears in a puff of oily smoke.]

Monk / Musgrave :
Well, since he was carried off, I'm now managing the family estate. I'm the local MP, too, of course, so I keep myself busy.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Hmph. 'Of course,' indeed. What did you do? Bribe the electorate? Rig the poll?

Monk / Musgrave [no less jovial] :
Now, now. Just because nobody in their right mind would vote for you.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Will you tell me how it is that I have the honour of your company, sir?

Monk / Musgrave :
I came to ask for your professional services.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Eighteen shillings a day, plus expenses.

Monk / Musgrave :
Ten. At the most.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Sixteen.

Monk / Musgrave :
Thirteen.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Fifteen.

Monk / Musgrave :
Done.

First Doctor / Holmes :
Now, pray let me have the details.

Monk / Musgrave :
You must know that though I am a bachelor, I have a considerable staff of servants. Altogether, there are eight maids...

[Hurlstone Manor. Eight maids are seen in uniform, lined up at the bottom of the stairs: Astrid, Martha, Rose, Gwyneth, Ace, Zoë, Mollie Dawson, and the Second Doctor in drag.]

Martha :
Oh, now this is ridiculous. No way you two were ever maids.

Zoë :
I certainly was. "Foreign Devils", Telos Publishing, ISBN 1-903-88910-3. And Ace, as I recall, posed as a maid in "The Veiled Leopard".

Ace :
Proper little concordance, isn't she?

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
... a cook ...

[A kitchen. Polly stares in despair at a frying pan, its contents ablaze.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
The butler, two footmen, and a boy.

[A formal dinner. The butler, seen from behind, ladles out soup. The footmen are Ben and Steven; the boy is Adric.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
The garden and the stables of course have a separate staff.

[A brief shot of Jamie and Victoria tending to a horse.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
Of these servants, the longest-serving is Brunton, the butler. My father hired him when he was a young man...

[The Toymaker shakes hands with the Delgado Master.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
... and he has been with us for twenty years. He can speak several languages and play nearly every musical instrument. We're very lucky in him. But there's a problem. [He lowers his voice conspiratorially.] He's a bit too fond of the ladies.

[We see the Delgado Master whispering something in Jo's ear; she screams and makes a run for it. Then the Ainley Master being slapped in the face by Nyssa (dressed as a Victorian middle-class woman), then by Tegan (likewise), then by Ace (still in her maid costume). This is followed by the Jacobi Master serenading Chantho under her window, accompanying himself on a mandolin.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
When he was married it was all right.

[Arm-in-arm, the Simm Master and Lucy Saxon walk down the street. Liz passes, dressed in the height of Victorian fashion. The Master tries to engage her in conversation, but is dragged away by Lucy.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
But since he has been a widower we have had no end of trouble with him.

[A twin bedroom in the servants' quarters. Astrid is barricading the door. Rose is leaning out of the window. From below comes the sound of serenading, accompanied this time on the accordion.]

Master / Brunton [off] :
Every breath you take,
Every move you make...

Rose :
It's all right. He's hitting on Gwyneth this time.

Master / Brunton [off] :
...Every step you take,
I'll be watching you...

[There is a sound as if a large vessel of water had been poured out of an upstairs window. The accordion stops with a damp squelch. So does the singing.]

Gwyneth [off] :
And there's more where that came from, boyo.

Master / Brunton [off] :
Fine. Be like that, then. See if I care. I'll find someone who appreciates me. You'll regret this, you know.

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
A few months ago we were in hopes that he was about to settle down again, for he became engaged to Rachel Howells, our second house-maid.

[The Simm Master, on bended knee, holds out an engagement ring to Martha Jones.]

Master / Brunton :
You have got to be kidding me.

Martha / Rachel :
And me.

Monk / Musgrave [hastily] :
But he has thrown her over since then and taken up with Janet Tregellis, the daughter of the head gamekeeper.

Martha / Rachel :
That's more like it.

[She scarpers. There is a long pause, and then Victoria edges into the room, keeping as far away from the Master as she can.]

Master / Brunton :
She'll do. For now.

[He leers at Victoria, who takes care to keep as much furniture as possible between them.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
Rachel — who is a very good girl, but of an excitable Welsh temperament —

Master / Brunton :
Hang on. If she's supposed to be Welsh, why isn't the Welsh girl playing her?

Tenth Doctor / Narrator :
I don't know. Chalk it up to one of life's little mysteries.

Master / Brunton :
Oh, so it's you out there, is it? That explains an awful lot.

Sixth Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
Actually, I'm telling this story.

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
I thought it was me.

Master / Brunton :
What is this? The Thousand and One Nights? [He affects a silly voice] "And now, a break in our scheduled story while one of the characters wastes time telling the tale of the pardoner and the pardoned man."

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
Anyway, she — that is, Rachel — had a sharp touch of brain-fever.

[Another room in the servants' quarters. Martha is in bed, not looking at all well. Some of the other maids are gathered around her bed.]

Martha / Rachel :
Ooh. I feel dreadful.

Astrid :
Perhaps it's Polly's cooking again.

Gwyneth :
No, it can't be, or we'd all be down with it.

Rose :
I bet that creep Brunton's poisoned you.

Zoë [consulting Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management] :
Do you think so? There are all sorts of remedies in this book. We could try one or two. I wonder what the poison was.

Ace :
Carbolic acid? There's a jar of that in the laundry room.

Zoë [reading] :
"Carbolic Acid. Treatment: Use the stomach-syphon if at hand. Empty the stomach with it, and then wash out that organ with a dilute solution of Epsom salts..."

Martha / Rachel :
Give me that! [She snatches the book, and reads the passage to herself, with increasing horror.] Look. I haven't been poisoned. I don't need my stomach pumped and I certainly do not need a... brandy enema. There's no cure for a broken heart.

Gwyneth :
Sounds more like heartburn to me.

Ace :
Come on. It's obvious she doesn't want our help.

[The maids file out.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
She's not been quite the same since. But that was driven from our minds by the disgrace and dismissal of Brunton. Last Thursday I couldn't sleep, and went down to the billiard-room to get a book I'd been reading. As I passed the library, I saw a light shining under the door...

[The corridor. The Monk is approaching, clad in lemon-yellow pyjamas with a white stripe. He sees the light, puts down his candle, takes a handy battleaxe from where it hangs on the wall, tiptoes to the door and pushes it open.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
Brunton, the butler, was in the library.

[The Master is sitting in an easy chair, with something that looks like a sketch map on his knee. He is watching a portable DVD player, and listening through headphones. From the angle of the screen we can't see what, but it's a fair guess that it's a children's programme starring people dressed as brightly-coloured blobs.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
Suddenly, as I looked, he rose from his chair...

[The Master checks his watch, gets up, and crosses to a desk. Using his laser screwdriver, he unlocks it and extracts a piece of paper. The Monk bursts in, brandishing his battle-axe.]

Monk / Musgrave :
What the devil are you doing rummaging through our family documents?

Master / Brunton [removing his headphones] :
That's funny. I could have sworn I heard something.

Monk / Musgrave :
I said, what do you think you're doing?

Master / Brunton :
Why, if it isn't my friend Laa-Laa. Eh-oh!

Monk / Musgrave :
You will leave my service tomorrow.

Master / Brunton :
Oh. Oh, I'm crushed. Indeed I am. [He pulls a face.] Look how unhappy you've made me. I'm sure you've made the right choice there. After all, it's safest not to have untrustworthy butlers roaming the house at night, isn't it?

[The Monk gives him a baffled look, and picks up the piece of paper that came out of the desk.]

Monk / Musgrave :
But this is just a copy of the Musgrave Ritual.

First Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
We had better come back to that afterwards.

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
If you think it important. I put the paper away, and locked everything up again.

Master / Brunton :
Oh woe. I'll never be able to read your private family papers again. Oh, I am disgraced. Away I creep, and in the morning I shall pack my bags and never return.

Monk / Musgrave :
Well, perhaps I was a little too harsh. I'll give you a week's notice and let you leave as if it was your idea.

Master / Brunton :
Thanks for nothing.

[He leaves. The Monk puts out the light, locks the library, and goes back to bed.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
For two days after this Brunton was most assiduous in his attention to his duties. And then, on the third morning, he didn't show up after breakfast.

[The dining room. The Monk, having eaten a hearty breakfast, rises to his feet.]

Monk / Musgrave :
Well, I can't sit around all day waiting for mad butlers.

[He heads for the door. As he does so, Rachel Howells comes in. She is looking distinctly under the weather, even more so than before.]

Monk / Musgrave :
You're not looking at all well.

Martha / Rachel :
Oh, that's just Polly's cooking. I had the fruit salad this morning, and she managed to burn it. How is that even possible? Sir.

Monk / Musgrave :
We'll call the doctor and see what he says about that.

Martha / Rachel :
I'm not letting him anywhere near me. Have you seen what the state of medicine is in this time?

Monk / Musgrave :
And when you go downstairs, say that I wish to see Brunton.

Martha / Rachel :
The butler is gone.

Monk / Musgrave :
What, already? I mean, where has he gone?

Martha / Rachel :
No-one knows. He's just — gone.

[They stand there for a few moments.]

Tenth Doctor / Narrator :
Martha, you're supposed to be having a hysterical attack.

Martha / Rachel [wearily] :
If I must, I must.

[She falls back against the wall and starts hyperventilating.]

Monk / Musgrave (vo) :
The girl was taken to her room, still screaming and sobbing...

[Rose and the Second Doctor arrive, and begin to lead Martha away.]

Rose :
Shouldn't she be making more noise?

Second Doctor :
Yes, but we can't force her to.

Rose :
'Course we can. Pinch her, slap her, put a caterpillar down her neck.

Martha / Rachel :
Will you two leave me alone? I don't know whose idea this was—

Monk / Musgrave :
That's obvious. It's the Doctor. He can't resist meddling. Ha! The old hypocrite!

First Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
It's nothing to do with me. And if any of my later selves has been tampering...

Sixth Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
Tampering? Me? Absurd! Why, I'm the very soul of laissez-faire.

Peri / Watson (vo) :
Yeah, and I'm the King of France.

Second Doctor :
Probably that young chap in the stripey suit. Really, when I look at what's happened to our fashion sense over the years...

Sixth Doctor / Holmes (vo) :
Says the incarnation dressed as a maid.

Tenth Doctor / Narrator :
Weellllll....

Peri / Watson (vo) :
It is you, isn't it? What's your game?

Tenth Doctor / Narrator :
Well, it was a good idea at the time. Well, time and a half. But I can't take all the credit. We were just having a picnic on Antares IV and River said...

He turned to River for confirmation. "Didn't you?"

Before River could answer, the room resounded to a sustained, clattering, crash, emanating from the locked cupboard.

"The monster!" little Jo squealed.

"I'd better go and see what's going on," River said. "Back in a jiff."

The toddlers clustered nervously round the Doctor's feet.