“Running into Yourself”
A Doctor Who Fan fiction
By: David K. Turner the III.
A man with wild hair and an overcoat, who demanded that they call him the Doctor, sits in front of a pub somewhere in London reading “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”.
“You take a guy on one trip and this is how he repays you?” the Doctor grumbled. “From now on, no more writers, I am not a drunk!”
The Doctor throws the book down. Biting a mouthful out of his sandwich, he notices a man with a colorful scarf flowing behind him while he was dashing down the road. The scarfed man’s hat flew off as he shot off even faster as he heard a scream. The man with the colorful scarf ignored the loss of his hat. The Doctor however strolled on over to the hat. Picking it up, he noticed it had been squashed several times, probably to fit in a jacket. Brown and wide brimmed; the hat was of good quality. Hand made by a master, probably. The Doctor flipped it on his head like Michael Jackson, “I do look good in this hat.”
Another scream pierced his peace, and the Doctor sped off in the general direction. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver for a better idea of the direction of the screaming.
Running in the direction, the Doctor flew into an abandoned iron mill. He heard voices and followed them with his screwdriver at the ready. The closer he got the more electronically monotone the voice . . . or voices got.
“Daleks,” he swore, with his back pressed against the door. As he spun into the room, a giant explosion knocked him to the ground. Peering into the room the man with the colorful scarf was talking to a little blonde schoolgirl. The Daleks had been defeated, their armor laid about smoldering in pieces. The Doctor slipped out of the mill and went back to his book and sandwich. He sat the hat on the table next to him.
The man with the scarf and the schoolgirl eventually passed the Doctor.
“My hat,” exclaimed the man as he walked towards the Doctor.
“I saw you drop it, and I tried to follow you, but I guess I lost you. So I figured I’d wait,” the Doctor smiled, shaking the man’s hand.
“Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without it,” the man with the scarf said with a toothy smile.
“I know the feeling,” the Doctor laughed.
The man in the scarf plopped the hat on his curly haired head, smiling, thanked the Doctor again, and strolled off with the schoolgirl. The Doctor heard an all too familiar noise, and smiled as he returned to his book.