In Which

The Doctor Has Laryngitis

In Which…

The Doctor Has Laryngitis


The Doctor woke up in his bed in his room in his Tardis and stretched out his long limbs, touching both ends of the bed with a yawn. Today was going to be a wonderful day. He could tell…absolutely a fantastic day. Nothing, today, could go wrong. Nothing at all.

He got out of bed and got dressed, picking out the blue bowtie to wear today. He'd take the Ponds somewhere fun, definitely. Today called for fun.

However, as he was tying the bowtie around his neck, he felt a weird tickling sensation in his throat. The Doctor paused, a little confused…this sensation had never happened to him before. He swallowed, which was oddly difficult, the motion only making the sensation even worse…a little painful too. So, the Doctor did the proper thing and ignored it, continuing to tie the bowtie. Then, the unthinkable happened…

He let out a hoarse, dry cough.

The Doctor coughed until he was out of breath, falling to his knees and attempting to inhale in a way that wasn't weirdly painful. He panicked just a little…he had never coughed before. This was a very weird experience for him, coughing. Why? Because he was a Time Lord and Time Lords never ever, ever, ever ever ever, EVER, got sick. Ever.

"Well, that's strange," he mused aloud…or, tried, to muse aloud. He reached up and grabbed his throat. "No," he said silently but painfully. "Oh, no you don't. Stop it." The Doctor stood up and ran from the room, his arms flailing above his head, the bowtie falling to the ground, forgotten, in the Doctor's manic frenzy to figure out what was happening to him.


Amy and Rory were sitting at the kitchen table, calmly eating eggs and toast, when, suddenly, the door burst open. They looked up in alarm to see the Doctor stumbling about, shouting noiselessly, his arms moving very fast and very uncontrollably above his head as he 'shouted'. Beginning to get a little annoyed, Amy stood up and walked briskly over to the Doctor, grabbing his shoulders to snap him out of it. The alien jumped a little, stiffening, and looked at her with a slightly lost expression on his face when she did, but Amy didn't have time to feel bad. She wanted to know what the hell the Doctor was doing.

"Doctor," said Amy calmly, "why are you running about the kitchen so early in the morning?"

The Doctor mouthed something in reply, something that looked a little bit like 'Dumbledore', but Amy took it to mean 'I can't talk'. Which was probably what the Doctor was trying to tell her anyway, because why would the Doctor be trying to tell her 'Dumbledore'?

"You can't talk?" she asked and the Doctor nodded a little the lost expression not leaving his face. "Why can't you talk?" He shrugged, letting out a small series of painful sounding coughs. "Are you sick?" To that, the Doctor shook his head. "Rory, don't just sit there, help me."

"Uh," Rory said, standing up immediately and walking over to Amy and the Doctor. "Open your mouth." The Doctor gave him an odd look but did as he was told. Rory got out his nifty pen flashlight and shined it into the alien's mouth, making a small 'hmm' noise. "Laryngitis," the long nosed human deduced. The Doctor looked affronted, mouthing something and flailing his arms a little.

"I can't understand a word he's saying," Amy said quietly, leaning a little closer to Rory. "Well, I can't understand what he's doing… he's not really saying anything, is he?"

"We should get help… an interpreter or someone. But who is there who knows the Doctor well enough to be of any help?"


"Why did you call me? I was LARPing…" Katrina Lycanthrope whined, pouting a little bit, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head to the side. For some reason, she was wearing a red leather dog collar along with her black hoodie, red shirt, and black jeans, clothes that would have otherwise seemed perfectly normal on the teenager, but nobody wanted to ask.

"Can you tell us what he's saying?" Rory asked, motioning to the Doctor, who was sitting at the breakfast table, prodding his own plate of scrambled eggs with his fork, a slightly put out expression on his face.

"He's not talking. He's poking his breakfast…" the writer pointed out.

"Doctor," Amy said and the man looked up, standing up once he realized who was there now who wasn't before.

'You! You did this to me!' he…shouted. Katrina looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, so this is my fault?"

'Yes,' he mouthed, nodding. 'You wrote this to happen…'

"I did. And I don't plan to put it right, so just let it pass, Doctor," she said calmly, walking over and poking the Doctor in the stomach. He scowled at her. "Besides, not talking can be fun."


The next two weeks of not speaking were not as fun as the Doctor would have hoped. In fact, they were not fun at all. And he found one more reason to dislike the writer…and one more reason to talk at every opportunity he got once his voice was back. He had to make up for lost time.

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