Yarn

by TARDIScrash [Reviews - 0]

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  • All Ages
  • None
  • Humor, Slash, Standalone

Author's Notes:
For a prompt: Y is for Yarn.

“Oi, Professor! Someone’s made an awful mess of the corridors!” Ace called out behind her and continued to look around for the source of the alarm that had sounded in the console room. “And these rooms are well thrashed. Come have a look.”

The Doctor strode over through the random objects strewn about the floor and nudged the doors open with the tip of his umbrella. He apprised the destruction with much hum’ing and ha’ing then finally he shook his head. Ace frowned at him, “You don’t think that we’ve got a stowaway to you? I told you I should have brought that lead pipe I found.”

“Now now, Ace, must have our ducks in a rrrow before we make soup.”

“What?”

“No pipe for now.”

“Aw, all right.”

The two turned suddenly as they heard a crash. The Doctor looked in the direction the noise came from, wheels spinning under his hat then turned back to Ace, “Ace, I think you better go get that pipe after all.”

“You got it!” She grinned and dashed off the way they came. That would buy him a few minutes at least.

The Doctor hurried to the room he guessed the sound must have come from, holding on to his hat as he ran. When he saw the door ajar and hall before it littered with crushed hats, ripped coats and other destroyed accessories, he knew that he had guessed correctly. He peered in the room, entering slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves.

“I thought as much." The Doctor came the rest of the way into the room of disused clothing and closed the door behind him. He shook his head and addressed the intruder. "Do you have anything to say for your self? Come on man, have some dignity!”

The Master was in a far worse state than he was when the Doctor left him. The tattered remains of the Master’s suit reviled skin that was now pattered in spots. His hands where distorted: made claw-like and savage. He huddled in a corner laying on a large pile of burgundy yarn, kneading it obsessively.

“Is… Is that what I think it is?” The Doctor asked, somewhere between embarrassment and annoyance. The Master only let out a low rumbling purr in response and burred his face in the old unravelled scarf.