The kettle in the TARDIS kitchen was broken. More accurately, the kettle had been broken down into its component parts, which were now part of the console. A rather impressive piece of improvisation on the Doctor's part. The downside was that it did make it harder to make tea.
The Doctor dropped a teabag into the mug of cold water and inserted the sonic screwdriver into the water to heat it.
The mug exploded, splattering the Doctor's coat, jumper and face with cold tea. “Captain!” he bellowed.
Captain Jack lounged in the doorway with a big grin on his face. “You called?”
“What have I told you about about touching my sonic screwdriver?”
“Never touch my sonic screwdriver.”
“There's so many rules in this place; Jack, don't look at Rose like that; Jack, don't rub up against the TARDIS like that-”
“Jack,” the Doctor interrupted, “never talk to me before I've had my tea.”
“Doctor?” Rose poked the Doctor's prone form with her shoe. “Doctor!”
If the aliens had shot him or knocked him about the head she'd be more worried, but they'd merely aimed that sleep gun of theirs at him and he'd been out for the count ever since. The snoring was starting to get on her nerves.
She shuffled closer to him and managed to fish the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. She pressed it to the manacle around her wrist: nothing happened. Maybe it had a special undoing-manacles setting? Unfortunately, the only setting the Doctor had ever bothered to teach Rose was the one for re-attaching barbed wire.
Maybe not, then. She settled for kicking the Doctor in the shin instead.
The Doctor was staring at his sonic screwdriver, mainly to avoid making eye contact with Donna.
“Let me see if I've got this straight,” Donna began. “The only type of lock the sonic screwdriver can't break is a deadlock seal?”
“Because you've never programmed a breaking-deadlock-seal setting into it?”
“And as a result of this, every passing species who wants to lock you in a zoo, perform experimental surgery on you or nick the TARDIS locks you in a room with a deadlock seal?”
“That's about the size of it, yes.”
The Master was playing with the Doctor's sonic screwdriver.
“Hey!” the Doctor objected. “I put a genetic lock on that.”
“Oh, genetic locks are easy,” the Master said, pressing every button on the sonic at once. “Where's the setting for killing people by compressing them down to the size of teeny tiny little dolls?”
“There isn't a setting for killing people by compressing them down to- There isn't a setting for that!”
The Master tossed the screwdriver away in a fit of the sulks. “What's the point of that, then?”
The Doctor's greatest enemies had captured one of his greatest weapons. He'd be at their mercy now.
The three Daleks looked at the sonic screwdriver lying on the deck.
“PICK. IT. UP.”
“NO. YOU. PICK. IT UP.”