“Maybe it was originally made for a giraffe. That would explain it. Perhaps one of them gave it to him as a present.”
“Now you’re being silly, Sarah.”
She shifted her position, since she hadn’t in a while. They were both sitting against the wall of a tiny cell that you could describe with all the usual words (cold, gloomy, bare, dank, cold, damp, and cold) and sharing the Doctor’s scarf between them for extra warmth. “It’s not as if there’s anything better to do.”
“No,” said Harry. He paused. “Or maybe he’s got an elderly aunt who doesn’t know how to stop knitting once she starts?”
He moved his head to look at her, and smiled. “Well, I used to have one who was a bit like that when it came to sleeves.”
“I don’t think my aunt ever knitted.”
They lapsed into silence again.
“How long has it been now?”
“I don’t know, old girl. My watch seems to have stopped working.”
“Hours and hours and hours and hours…” Sarah leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. She gave a sigh.
“Well. Probably about two hours at the most.”
Sarah pulled a face, and then determined to look for a bright side to things. “At least we’re not chained up. I hate it when they do that. Still, I wish they’d put central heating in. Why is it we never get locked in cells with central heating?”
“Well, it is only 1403, you know.”
Sarah poked him, and then they both fell into another silence. Eventually, she said, “We have to do something.”
“I’d love to, old -”
“Harry, what did I say?”
“Sorry. I’d like to get out of here, too, but I don’t see what else we can try. The door’s solid — inches thick, I’d say — and you’ve checked it’s locked at least six times. There isn’t any window. And no one’s come anywhere near us since they shoved us in here.”
Sarah gave a short laugh, mostly to herself. “Now you’re just nit-picking.”
“Yes, but they did say something about leaving us down here to rot for the rest of our lives -”
“Yes, thank you, Harry!” Then she sighed again, and leant against his shoulder since, however long they’d been here, it was definitely late enough to count as the middle of the night — and all they had was a tiny stone cell, and each other. And the Doctor’s scarf. “I suppose the Doctor’ll turn up at some point.”
“I’m sure he will,” said Harry, slightly too cheerfully. “As long as nothing’s happened to him as well.”
“You don’t think it has, do you?”
Harry glanced down at her. “Oh, no. No. Don’t know what I was thinking. He’s probably busy happening to other people right now.”
Sarah had to grin.
“So, chin up, old girl, and -”
“I say,” he added suddenly. “You don’t think he’d go off without us, do you? Not on purpose, of course, but, well, you know what he’s like — and that old TARDIS of his -”
“Now you’re being silly,” Sarah murmured, trying to settle more comfortably. “He wouldn’t leave his scarf behind, now, would he?”
Harry turned his head. “No. Of course not. Can’t afford to offend those giraffes, eh?”
“Or that nice old aunt of his.”
“Wish he’d hurry up, though,” added Sarah.
Harry looked at her. “Well, there is one thing.”
“If he takes long enough, they might get round to inventing central heating first.”