Martha Jones woke up at 3am because someone was thumping her front door and yelling about "sex-crazed aliens." This sort of thing happened surprisingly often since she'd started working for Torchwood, which was in no way a dumping-ground for the Doctor's former companions even though Rose, Mickey, Jack and Martha were all employed by them in one universe or another.
Still, sex-crazed aliens. That plot hadn't happened to her in at least three weeks. Might be interesting. At least it wasn't fairies again.
She opened the door to an angry redhead and the Doctor, who looked drunk and seemed to be humping one of the ginger woman's legs.
"Sex-pollen," said the redhead, as though that explained everything. And it did, oddly enough. "I'm Donna by the way. You must be the wonderful perfect Martha Jones who saved the world and who he never fucking shuts up about."
"Maaaaaarthaaaaa!" The Doctor launched himself at her in full-on hug mode. "Martha! I knew you'd come back to me!"
"Right," said Martha, "and you've brought him to my house at three in the morning because...?"
"He said if he ever got sick I was to bring him to you. This is making me sick so I thought that was near enough."
"What sort of sex pollen was it?" Sex pollen was surprisingly common, all things considered. Entire solar systems had built their economies around the stuff.
"The nice sort," said the Doctor, helpfully. Martha moved his hands from her breasts and propped him up against a wall.
"It was a big orange monster and then I hit it with a rock and it exploded into sex pollen. Ruined my dress. And then he ruined the next one trying to have sex with it." Donna watched the Doctor try to kiss the wall. "I don't suppose you know any experts?"
As a matter of fact, Martha did.
"So," said Jack, who was indeed an expert on sex, "what we have here is a horny Time Lord and two annoyed women. I think solving one problem will solve the other."
Donna rolled her eyes. "Oh, just hurry up and shag him, we haven't got all day."
"I'm going to need a new sofa if you don't get a move on," said Martha, watching the Doctor attempt to mate with it.
"Ladies, please, I take this sort of thing very seriously."
"You're not using my bed," said Martha.
"It might just wear off," said Donna, who had only just thought of this, but we shouldn't think less of her for that, because none of the others had thought of it either.
"What if we dump him under a cold shower and show him pictures of Tory MPs?" Martha didn't have a medical degree for nothing.
"I didn't know he was a Tory at the time," mumbled the Doctor, momentarily pausing in his attempt to seduce Martha's couch.
Jack shook his manly head. "This type of sex pollen only stops when sex happens. Sex with another person, though I have no idea how it knows if you're just having a wank."
"'s psychic, maybe," said the Doctor.
Jack picked the Doctor up to a sitting position. "Doctor, will you be able to forgive me if I have sex with you to save your life?"
The Doctor answered by trying to undo Jack's trousers.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Donna and Martha tried not to listen. But it was difficult not to.
Later they crowded round to watch the Doctor trying to shag Martha's bed.
"You owe me a new bed," said Martha, for the twenty-second time that morning.
"I don't understand," said Jack, "I thought sex would cure him. It cures most things." Yes, things were so much simpler in JackWorld.
Martha had a horrible thought. "What if... what if it needs to be a Time Lord?"
"He killed them all," said Donna with her usual sympathy. "Blew them all up into tiny little bits. How can he shag them if he killed all of them?"
"That would be the problem," said Martha.
Jack was still in a state of shock at his own failure. "I had sex with someone and it didn't cure whatever was wrong with them." He suddenly looked very serious. "If word of this gets out, I swear I will track you both down and kill you. Slowly."
"Oh, shut up and put your cock away."
"We could put an advert in a newspaper," suggested Martha. "Wanted: Time Lord to save other Time Lord with weird alien sex."
"I say we take him to a space-brothel and keep paying until we get one that works," was Jack's contribution.
"I think he needs a good slap," said Donna.
"We need to think logically," said Martha. "We need a Time Lord, and there aren't any."
"If only," said Donna, "we had a time machine so that we could go back to before that Mr Saxon died, and we could talk him into shagging the Doctor so that he could later be defeated by him."
"You want me to shag the Doctor so that I can later be defeated by him?"
"Yeah," said Donna, "if you've got a spare five minutes or so."
The Master considered this carefully. "If I don't have sex with him, he'll die and then he won't be able to foil my plans to take over the universe."
"But he's already done that," said Martha, "so you wouldn't be stopping that from happening."
"But," said the Master, "I'd be able to steal his TARDIS and leave here before that happens in my personal timeline, thus circumventing the Doctor's efforts to destroy me."
"This is doing my fucking head in," said Donna. "What is it with you lot? Cause and effect not good enough for you? Is that it? Are you too high and mighty to let things happen in the right order?"
"Look," said Jack, "we all saw you die, so the balance of evidence says that you did. The entire universe might collapse in on itself in paradox if you don't have sex with the Doctor."
"I like the sound of that," said the Master with an evil smile. "The universe destroyed because I wouldn't get my cock out."
Donna slapped him.
There was a pause as the universe adjusted to the reality of this.
"I'm fed up with you lot. You and your bloody time paradoxes. I don't care. I just want you to shag the Doctor so he and I can get back to travelling round the universe arguing with each other and trying to pretend we don't have a comfortable and affectionate relationship."
"I like you," said the Master. "You're far too good for him."
Donna sniffed. "I know. Now shut up and get on with it. We won't look."
"And you slapped him?" The Doctor couldn't quite get past that bit. "You slapped him? In the face? With your hand?"
"He was being a wanker. And you were no help. You were busy trying to get off with a portrait of Clement Atlee."
"I suppose this means you saved my life by slapping people in the face. Again." It really was an amazingly effective means of saving the world.
"Next time something like that happens I'm just going to let you die. We had to carry you about while you tried to shag things."
"Right, so now we agree to never speak of this again."
"Yeah, right," said Donna, forming a negative from a double-positive. "You've got another thing coming if you think I won't use this against you every chance I get."
"I wasn't myself! I was dying of sex pollen!"
"Like that makes it any less funny to tell people."
"I hate you, Donna Noble."
"Well, I hate you too. Bastard."
And so they set off for another adventure in time and space, pleased that their mutual affection had survived yet another absurd set of events.