Fandom Protectors of time (Doctor Who RP)

[MePersonally]

mogy _Exodus_

Jan 5th, 1920

New York City

Fog was lying heavy over the town. It had snowed the two previous days, but now the skies were covered in grey. The street was covered with an icy layer, which made putting each foot in front of the other without slipping a challenging task. While he was trying his best to walk gracefully, the leather soles of his expensive shoes not granting him the best grip, his mind was wandering. Somewhere not so far away, he heard a horse huff and the sound of carriage wheels, mixed with footsteps. The sounds were muffled, people barely visible, everything was enclosed in a deep layer of a white cloud. If he hadn’t known the way by heart, he might have gotten lost in the narrow streets he was walking.

Hiding his hands in his pockets, John took the last few steps and then turned right, entering a building of impressive magnitude. A stairway lead to a massive portal, which he pressed open. The fog was gone, and he needed a moment to get used to the fact that he could now see further than the tip of his hat, but soon his vision was blurred again by his glasses fogging up. With a sigh, he pulled them off his nose and cleaned them with his white gloves, before taking the latter ones off and shoving them into his pocket.

His steps echoed through the halls, as he ascended another stairway, then turned to the left and headed towards a door.
Dr Jonathan Garnett, Sr., was written on the door in gold letters.
Subconsciously straightening his posture, as he walked into his father’s office, he pulled a vile out of his pocket.
“Father”, he stated and set the vile down on the desk.
“Did you get it?”, the old man behind the desk asked. He was referring to the content of the vile, a special mixture of sedatives, which he needed for a patient.
John nodded at his father, whose name he had inherited and carried with pride, just as he was meant to inherit the family legacy.
“I want you to give it to him”, Dr Garnett Senior encouraged his son and shoved the vile in his son’s direction.
John’s face hardened: “You know what I think about drugging them.”
With an exasperated sigh, his father shook his head.
“What would you propose we do to help him?”, the old man asked, visibly tired of his son’s reaction to the order. It was a rhetorical question, but John wasn’t planning to let that stop him from showing his -gruesomely old-fashioned- father that he had an actual idea.
“Watson proposes that the fear could go away if we…”
“Watson”, Jonathan Sr. sighed and shook his head again, “He is a madman himself. How would it help to cause the patient distress by exposing him to his fears if we can help him stay calm through these drugs?”
“But he is the future, Father! I can feel it!”, John insisted.

Before Dr Garnett Sr could contradict, the door to the office swung open and a man in a white medical coat stormed into the room. He looked at John’s father with a furrow in his brow.
“There’s another one”, he informed Dr Garnett Sr.
Both, father and son looked up immediately and Jonathan Sr got up from his chair.
“I’ll go”, John reassured his father and followed the young doctor through the hallways.
“What happened?”, he demanded to know, while he prepared himself mentally.
“It’ another memory loss. Just like that. His wife says he’d just been about to leave for work, when he suddenly forgot everything.”

John nodded. It was the fifth case within a week. Something seemed to be happening around here.

 

[_Exodus_]

The words and numbers rattled around in the Doctors head. All he could remember was a diner and nothing before that since. . . His old face. Where had it gone wrong? There were fragments, memories, but partial. All the clues and the words lead to this moment in time and space. London in the Victorian Era.

Streets were walked and boarded up. People passed by in dense fog only a frog could see through. The Doctor eventually found his way into a doctors office of some sort. A cute newspaper found its way into his hands before he began to hear muttering. Usually he decided to keep out of such things. The fools and people with whom he often had to converse with. Boring people with such small ideas on a level universal scale were adorable.

Folding the newspaper, the Doctor glanced up at the trio Of men conversing. Standing, he headed to the door listening intently.
“Another memory loss?” The Doctor chimed in. He had heard a rumor of them, but hadn’t gotten any decisive evidence. Perhaps he was another victim ofnit as well? What would want him? And what would also be in Victorian London?

 

[mogy]

Promises of adventures like he'd never seen before were all it took for Adam to step into a mysterious blue box with a mysterious old man, and now, not even 10 minutes later, his muddy boots were marching on the icy streets of 20th century New York City, following behind the Doctor as the man stumbled his way around in the dense fog blanketing the city as a whole. Nothing worth mentioning had happened yet, but nothing had to have happened for Adam to be completely bewildered at the fact his lungs were filled with air from 200 years ago. This was totally impossible—for Adam to be here—but he was rarely the one to question possibility, even if it was about his own existence.

Making his way into one of the large buildings, still following closely behind the Doctor, Adam trusted that he knew where they were going, not that he knew what the Doctor had been looking for in the first place. The two found their way around, going up staircases and down hallways, where people gave weird looks and gossiped as the only reaction to their presence there, and Adam could only assume how weird the pair of them looked to an average New Yorker in the 1920s.

Nevermind that. As they entered an office with no knock or anything, the Doctor knew exactly what the three men inside were talking about, and so he joined the conversation, while Adam did the next best thing—he stood there next to the older man, pretending to know what was happening in hopes of piecing things together as they developed.

 

[MePersonally]

The two doctors stopped in their tracks, as suddenly a stranger made himself known and John raised an eyebrow at him. For a moment, he was taken aback by the man’s off appearance (his suit was cut weirdly and he looked like he hadn’t combed his hair in weeks). He considered asking him if he was a patient, but he was way too clean for that.
While his father kept the patients fed and by health, they were only granted a shower once a month, which wasn’t exactly hygienic. John was working on the improvement of that situation, but as it looked now, his father and the man he had made co-owner didn’t exactly listen to reason.

“Excuse me, Sir, but I am under the impression that you took a wrong turn somewhere”, John turned to the stranger, smiling politely, “This is the hospital’s insane . I don’t suppose you belong here?”
Or was he just a journalist, looking for some cruel or disturbing stories to tell? He didn’t hava a camera, so at least he wouldn’t take pictures.
John’s colleague rolled his eyes and continued walking.
“Room number 154. I’ll meet you there”, he told the younger Garnett. He was a surgeon and not very interested in people’s stories. He just wanted to right the wrongs in their brains.
John nodded once again, turning his full attention to the stranger who seemed to have just wandered in here. Only now he noticed the younger man, who was standing behind the older one. It seemed to click. Was the old man admitting a patient?
“May I ask your name, Sir?”, John now continued, a little more friendly than before, “And your... son’s?”
The young man did really look like he was insane- or from a circus. Maybe both. Who knew? He had to wrap this up quickly, so he could look after the patient in room 154.