Restored

The Shakespeare Code

"They think it was all special effects?" Martha frowned, looking around at the audience's smiles.

"Your effect is special indeed." Shakespeare sent her a wink.

"It's not your best line." Martha joked, as Shakespeare grabbed Martha's and Raelle's hand, pulling them into a bow in front of the audience. Raelle flashed Martha a smile of relief as they could finally relax.

The Doctor left the stage as they took their bows, going to the empty box the witches use to occupy. On the floor, next to the seats, the crystal remains. He picks up the crystal, spying the three witches trapped inside, clawing their way to get out. He holds it, taking it away from him. London has had enough of witchcraft. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The next morning rolled around, as Martha and Shakespeare sat on the Globe stage. "And I say, a heart for a hart and a dear for a deer."

"I don't get it." Martha told him, staring blankly in his face. 

"Then give me a joke from Freedonia."

"Okay, Shakespeare walks into a pub and the landlord says, Oi mate, you're Bard."

Shakespeare laughs. "That's brilliant. Doesn't make sense, mind you, but never mind that. Now come here." Shakespeare puts his arm around Martha's waist and pulls her towards him.

"I've only just met you." She argued. 

"The Doctor may never kiss you. Why not entertain a man who will?"

"I don't know how to tell you this, oh great genius, but firstly, the Doctor and Raelle are kind of together, and secondly, your breath doesn't half stink." She giggled, pulling away from him as she spies the Doctor and Raelle entering the theatre. They are decked out in Shakespearian clothes as the Doctor has a small stiff ruff on and Raelle is carrying an animal skull, smiling widely. 

"Good props store back there. I'm not sure about this though." He gestures to the skull Raelle is carrying. "Reminds me of a Sycorax." He gave Raelle a knowing look. 

"Sycorax. Nice word. I'll have that off you as well."

"I should be on ten percent." Raelle snorted, placing the skull down. "How's your head?"

"Still aching."

"Here, I got you this." The Doctor takes off the ruff and puts it on Shakespeare. 

"Neck brace." Raelle told Shakespeare from the confused look on his face. "Wear that for a few days till it's better, although you might want to keep it. It suits you." She smiled at him. 

"What about the play?" Martha asked, looking at the Doctor.

"Gone. I looked all over. Every single copy of Love's Labour's Won went up in the sky."

Shakespeare sighed, defeated. "My lost masterpiece."

"You could write it up again." Martha offered.

"Yeah, better not, Will." The Doctor argued. "There's still power in those words. Maybe it should best stay forgotten."

"Oh, but I've got new ideas. Perhaps it's time I wrote about fathers and sons, in memory of my boy, my precious Hamnet." 

Martha frowned. "Hamnet?"

"That's him."

"Hamnet?" Martha reiterated, giving the Doctor and Raelle an odd look. 

"What's wrong with that?" Shakespeare asked her, confused. Raelle smiled as the Doctor cut her off. 

"Anyway, time we were off. I've got a nice attic in the Tardis where this lot can scream for all eternity," He showed the crystal of witches. "And I've got to take Martha back to Freedonia."

"You mean travel on through time and space." Shakespeare corrected him.

Raelle paused. "You what?" She asked.

"You're from another world like the Carrionites, and Martha and Raelle are from the future. It's not hard to work out." Shakespeare told him, as if it was obvious this whole time.

The Doctor smiled, impressed. "That's incredible. You are incredible."

"We're alike in many ways, Doctor. Raelle." He nodded in her direction before turning to face Martha, grabbing her hand. "Martha, let me say goodbye to you in a new verse. A sonnet for my Dark Lady." Martha tried her best not to blush as she stared into Shakespeare's eyes. Behind his shoulder, she could see Raelle and the Doctor peering over, giving kissing faces in her direction. She tried her best not to shoot a glare their way. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate." He's interrupted as two of his actors enter from the street. 

"Will!"

"Will, you'll never believe it. She's here! She's turned up!"

"We're the talk of the town. She heard about last night. She wants us to perform it again." The Actor informed him, eyes wide with excitement. 

"Who?" Martha asked.

"Her Majesty. She's here." A fanfare erupts as Queen Elizabeth I enters, with two guards either side of her.

"Queen Elizabeth the First!" The Doctor announces, smiling in shock.

"Doctor?" The Queen sneers at him, causing his smile to fade. 

"What?" He says, confused.

"My sworn enemy."

"What?" Raelle scoffs in shock.

"Off with his head!" 

"What?!" The Doctor cries out in disagreement, almost whining. 

"Never mind what, just run!" Martha bellows. "See you, Will, and thanks." The Doctor, Raelle and Martha sprint to the back door, escaping the guards. 

"Stop that pernicious Doctor." The Queen shouts after them.

"Stop in the name of the Queen!" The guards orders them, still chasing them.

"What have you done to upset her?" Raelle shouts at him, as they spot the TARDIS in the distance. 

"How should I know? Haven't even met her yet. That's time travel for you. Still, can't wait to find out." He unlocks the TARDIS, as Martha pushes through to enter first. "That's something to look forward to." Raelle spots the guards holding their arrows in their direction, pushing the Doctor into the TARDIS. "Ooo!" They shut the door just in time as an arrow thuds into the door as the TARDIS dematerialises. 

Raelle moves to the seat beside the console, slumping down as she hangs her head back. "You must of really pissed her off." Raelle stated as Martha and the Doctor stood by the console. 

"The Queen of England hates me." He sighed, leaning against the console. "Remind me to never visit old England again. Cursed by witches and nearly beheaded." 

"I don't blame her." Raelle countered. "I would do the same if you pissed me off."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side." The Doctor mocked, pressing the lever to take them home.