Doctor Who One Shots and Crossovers!

The Expanded Life of Gerald The Chatty Mirror (Part 2)

In celebration of three weeks until Series 14, here's a bonus-bonus scene, in which Gerald meets the Fifteenth Doctor. 

Gerald was, yet again, wondering about eyes. A well placed eye roll was the key to a good snide remark and unfortunately he was incapable of this, being eye-less. He'd just have to make it up with words. After all, he had plenty of time to craft them - he only got a visit once a decade or so.

Talking of a visit, Gerald heard the sound of running water, and realised that someone was washing their hands. That someone looked straight up into the mirror, and Gerald gaped a little. This person...this being...actually had...well, taste. He couldn't believe it. He hadn't met anyone quite so fashionable in a very long time. He wouldn't have, with only the Doctor for company.

"And you are...?" He asked, keeping his tone neutral. It was important they didn't realise how impressed he was.

The man gave him a quizzical look. "I'm the Doctor...Are you feeling alright, Gerald?"

Gerald was reeling. His entire life in the past thousand years had revolved around the Doctor's appalling fashion sense. If the Doctor was stylish now....then what was the point of him? Gerald refused to believe it.

"You're not." He said flatly.

"Yes I am." Was the response.

"You are most definitely not the Doctor."

"I think I know who I am..." Said the Doctor, raising an eye brow.

Gerald scoffed at this. It was confirmed. "Well, that confirms it then. The real Doctor knows perfectly well that they have no idea who they are. Especially when they're new."

"That is a fair point, well made." Said Fifteen. "But I assure you, I'm the Doctor and no one else."

"You're the Master!" Said Gerald, with great excitement. He'd never met the Master himself, but he'd heard the Doctor speak about him. Sometimes even a snarky mirror was better to talk to than no one. "That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Well, the fact that you don't look like you just crawled out of a costume box."

"Well, thank you, Gerald. That may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He said with a grin.

Gerald made a vague noise of acceptance, deciding that it probably was the nicest thing he'd ever said. "Don't let it go to your head!" He shouted after him. "There's been some true abominations of fashion in the past, and I'm sure there will be again!"

The Doctor laughed to himself as he left the room, silently thanking his sixth self for steering well clear of Gerald. The celery jibes had been bad enough.

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