Checkmate (Doctor Who fanfiction)

The Cupboard

"It's not possible. This isn't-" Alex stopped mid-sentance, and never continued.

"George," The Doctor said in a calm, warning tone.

The lift came on again outside, and the toys started to shake. George's lamp that he'd knocked down earlier glowed just that bit too bright. The cupboard doors suddenly flew open, revealing a white flood of light that acted like something a second source of gravity. All of a sudden, I was being yanked ruthlessly towards the cupboard. Okay. Not good.

"George! George, what's going on? Are you doing it?" The Doctor yelled.

"What's happening?" Demanded Alex.

"Please save me from the monsters! Please save me from the monsters! Please save me from the monsters! Please save me from the monsters!" George kept repeating the message, going into the fetal position and squeezing his eyes shut.

"George, no!" The Doctor shouted. The little boy kept shouting the same six words over and over again.

"Help me, Doctor!" Alex yelled.

"George, no!" I The Doctor said.

Unfortunately, I turned out to be a little less resistant to the pull than the other two were. I cried out, trying to fight it. The Doctor got dragged backwards into the cupboard, and I panicked. Without thinking, I turned and ran straight into the cupboard after him.

***

I made a mental note that letting relationships get a hold of my instincts would get in my way later, if it hadn't already. I probably should work on that.

The Doctor leapt to his feet the second he regained consciousness. "George! George, don't do this. We want to help you, George!" He shouted.

I slowly pushed myself up to look around, and instantly regretted it. Besides being in what looked like a 1700's household dining room, it felt like tiny construction workers had been hired to hammer on my skull from the inside.

"We went, we went into the cupboard. We went into the cupboard. How can it be bigger in here?" Alex exclaimed. I fell back on my back, moaning in pain.

"Owww," I said. The Doctor was pulling me to my feet very shortly, and I stumbled, leaning against the dining table.

"More common than you'd think, actually. You're okay," he steadied me carefully. "What hurts?"

"My head," I groaned.

"Say ah."

I obeyed. I was just glad it was dark in here. Light would probably hurt.

"Where are we?" Alex asked shakily.

"Obvious, isn't it?" The Doctor said as he examined whatever was inside my throat.

"No," I said around my open mouth.

"Dolls' house. We're inside the dolls' house. Crikey Moses, Ruby. Do you ever floss?"

Thankfully, my mouth being open didn't affect my ability to slap him. Of course I flossed. Idiot.

"You can shut your mouth." He stepped away from me, hand on his cheek. "The signal just reacted with your brain wrong. You'll be alright."

"Why?" I asked, rubbing my head.

"That is the question, isn't it?"

"The dolls' house?" Alex asked, still behind a page or two.

"Yeah, in the cupboard, in your flat. The dolls' house."

"No, no, just slow down, would you?"

"Look. Wooden chicken. Cups, saucers, plates, knives, forks, fruit, chickens, wood." He tossed the corresponding item from the table to Alex as he spoke. "So, we're either inside the dolls' house or this a refuge for dirty posh people who eat wooden food. Or termites. Giant termites trying to get on the property ladder. No. That's possible. Is that possible?"