Title: Dymond in the Ruff (its a horrendous pun if anyone has suggestions I will welcome them with open arms and cupcakes :P )
Characters/Pairings: Jack, Ianto, Ten
Rating: PG (my first EVER child friendly fic- yeeey
Warnings: None really, based on true events.
Word count: 736- this is a taster chapter to see if its any good :P
Disclaimers: I don't own Torchwood or any of the characters (unfortunately)
Summary: Wibbly- wobbly timey- wimey stuff, light and fluffy for the most part.
Beta: None, let me know if there are any glaring errors.
The moor’s spiked, blue grass swayed in the gentle breeze, its long fingers interrupting the swirling eddies of mist hovering above the frozen ground. A small creature that strongly resembled a shrew tentatively sniffed the air around a circle of singed grass and wondered when the humans would find this peculiarity. It was drawn from its musings by a sound similar to a violin being played backwards underwater, the mist was disturbed and began to flow a different path, avoiding a large square as if it were being redirected. Oh not again the shrew-like creature thought as it turned and hopped back to the river-bank, and peace.
The blue police box seemed to integrate into its new surrounding better than it usually did. In amongst the blue grass, the grey fog and the stone cottages in the town beyond the moors the box seemed less incongruous than say, in the cold concrete of Cardiff city centre. The lanky form of the Doctor appeared in silhouette at the door of the TARDIS.
‘Smell that sea air!’ He said taking deep lungfuls of aforementioned air, which whistled past a slightly deviated septum in his long nose. He stopped sniffing after hearing a polite cough behind him.
‘If I may interject Sir, there doesn’t appear to be any sea.’ The sarcastic edge to Ianto’s soft, welsh tones was mirrored in his raised eyebrow.
‘Ah yes... right. Still not great at the parking.’ The Doctor laughed nervously. He bent low to the ground and sniffed again; looking deep in thought, ‘Ahhh we are in Cornwall... that’s good... 1844 ahh excellent year... Aww its Sunday! I hate Sundays- nothings open. Ooo...’ He hurried away a short distance leaving behind a bemused Jack and Ianto, ‘Oh yesh! Beauty!’ He cried, lifting a small ball of what looked like red clay to his lips, ‘Squpe poo! Tastes just like bananas- isn’t that wonderful?’ The Doctor looked back at his two companions with a giddy smile stretched across his face.
‘Amazing.’ Jack deadpanned, ‘But I believe we were promised hot surfers.’ Jack wiggled his eyebrows as he snaked an arm around Ianto’s shoulders. The Doctor didn’t appear to be listening, having wandered yet further away from the TARDIS.
‘Ah now this is interesting!’ He exclaimed indicating to the patch of dead grass, ‘What do you think Jack? Exhaust from a Radon Capacitator?’
‘Hmm... yes. Or perhaps caused by gamma-radiation from a Trangian Knife?’
‘Ah yeah... possibly, possibly...’ The Doctor brushed his long fingers through the dry, ash fronds.
‘Er guys?’ Ianto inserted himself between the debating men, ‘I think it may have just been a bonfire.’ Both men looked suitably embarrassed at the revelation and much clearing of throats could be heard soon after. The Doctor stood, straightened his jacket and joined the other two as they marched away from the TARDIS and towards the yellow glow of the street-lamps, stopping only so that the Doctor could lock the TARDIS with a bleep from his souped-up Toyota key fob.
The town was deadly quiet and so the trio saw no-one on their trip towards the town centre. All of the activity in the town seemed to be localised to the church, where the morning service had recently finished.
A pallid man wearing a charcoal grey suit with a stiff, starched collar stood away from the rest of the congregation, watching a pretty woman with tightly curled, auburn hair with great interest. The Doctor took the man’s hand and shook it jovially and with a nod towards the neatly rolled paper in the crook of the man’s arm asked, ‘You finished with that? A bit behind in current events see, so...’
‘You may take it.’ The thin man replied in a clipped London accent. His expression had remained stoic throughout the Doctor’s enthusiastic greeting although the slender pencil moustache spread across his top lip seemed to form a smirk independent of it’s owner.
‘Oh dear.’ The Doctor muttered as he studied the paper.
‘What's happened Doctor?’ Ianto asked, concerned.
‘Oh... nothing. One marriage, two births and possible rain next Tuesday. All very boring. Nothing much in there at all.’ He tapped the now rolled newspaper against his hand as he spoke, ‘But... you never know when something might... come up.’ Je stated cryptically, nodding towards the pale man who, having left them, had returned to staring intently at the pretty girl with the auburn hair.