Sarah Jane and Harry emerged from the kitchen after a hearty breakfast, only to find the Doctor staring disconsolately at a large, multi-coloured, pile of yarn.
"Doctor? What happened?"
Turning his eyes away from the carnage, he replied, "It got caught in the rotor." The Doctor patted his chest where the comforting weight usually rested. "I don't suppose either of you could help?"
Sarah shrugged. "Don't look at me. I took the shooting badge in Girl Guides instead." She looked over at Harry, expecting a similar reaction. Instead, he looked strangely flushed. "Harry?"
"Erm. I might know a thing or two. My Nan insisted the only good sock was a homemade sock." Sarah and the Doctor couldn't help but look at Harry's feet.
The Doctor beamed. "Well, why didn't you say so before?" Rummaging around in his coat pockets, he pulled out an enormous pair of knitting needles and thrust them at Harry. He headed for the TARDIS door but just as quickly turned on his heel and exited the console room. He returned to the console room after a moment, with the checkered tablecloth from the galley tied jauntily around his neck.
"What? I can't have my neck getting cold, now can I? Come along Sarah, the rotor needs a few replacement parts."
"What about me?" sputtered Harry.
"Hmm? Well, I suppose you should be able to get a few feet done if we leave you to it. We'll be back with a nice lunch."
Of course, the trip to the electronics market took far longer than expected. Harry was on his seventeenth foot of scarf when Sarah and the Doctor staggered in, their clothes in tatters. "...was I to know that they would see my new scarf as a mockery of their Dear Leader?" He paused for a just a beat and grinned. "Harry? How's my scarf coming along? It'll be splendid to get back to normal."