On Martha Jones' first trip through time and space, the trio ends up in Shakespeare times where a nefarious plot is afoot.

***

The TARDIS shook violently, the passengers clinging on to the console for dear life. "But how do you travel in time? What makes it go?"

"Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything." The Doctor quipped. "Martha, you don't want to know. It just does. Hold on tight."

It came to a sudden halt, Martha tumbling onto the floor. "Blimey. Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"

"Yes, and I failed it." He replied.

"Of course, you did," said Willow, knowingly.

"Now, make the most of it. I promised you one trip and one trip only." He almost tripped as he grabbed his signature brown jacket. "Outside this door, brave new world."

"Where are we?" Martha asked in excitement.

Willow smiled. "Why don't you take a look?"

"After you." The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors, leading her to wander outside.

Her eyes widened in astonishment at the vision before her. The people looked scruffy in old clothing from the 1500s, something she had never expected to see in her life. The Doctor and Willow stepped out behind her. "Oh, you are kidding me. You are so kidding me. Oh, my God, we did it. We travelled in time. Where are we? No, sorry. I got to get used to this whole new language. When are we?"

He looked up, noticing someone about to throw a bucket of wee and poo their way. "Mind out." The Doctor pulled the girls back, just missing the buckets' contents.

"Gardez l'eau!" A man shouted from above, though it was already too late.

"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that." He insisted.

"That's disgusting," Willow stated, stepping over the puddle with an expression of loathing.

"I've seen worse. I've worked the late-night shift A+E." The Doctor also dodged the puddle, though Martha seemed hesitant. "But are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?"

Willow glanced back with confusion. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

"It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race." She informed them.

The couple shared a look, Willow almost shedding a giggle before the Doctor said. "Tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?"

"What if, I don't know, what if I kill my grandfather?" asked Martha.

They turned back. "Are you planning to?"

"No." She shyly responded.

"Good," Willow spoke. "Because that would be pretty concerning."

Martha followed them down the road, staring at everything in excitement. "And this is London?"

"I think so. Round about 1599." He told her.

"Oh, but hold on. Am I all right? I'm not going to get carted off as a slave, am I?" Martha frantically questioned.

"Why would they do that?" He queried in bewilderment.

His fiancée dropped her head in disappointment. "You're so thick."

"Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed." She pointed out.

"We're not even human. Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me." He persuaded her as they began to stroll through the street. "Besides, you'd be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time. Look over there. They've got recycling."

A man was shovelling horse manure nearby, representing how they cleaned their streets. "Water cooler moment." He acknowledged a pair of men nearby, chatting over a water barrel. 

Nearby, a preacher was declaring a warning to humankind. "And the world will be consumed by flame."

"Global warming." He joked. "Oh, yes, and entertainment. Popular entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark, right next to..." The Doctor grabbed Willow's hand, who then grabbed Martha's as they ran down the street. 

They turned a corner and there stood one of the most famous theatres in all of England. "Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Though, strictly speaking, it's not a globe, it's a tetradecagon. Fourteen sides. Containing the man himself."

Once again, Martha's eyes widened in amazement. "Whoa, you don't mean. Is Shakespeare in there?"

"Oh, yes." The Doctor responded. "Miss Jones, will you accompany us to the theatre?"

"Mister Smith, I will!" She exclaimed.

The trio linked arms, walking past the river and heading for the Globe Theatre. "When you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare."

"Then I could get sectioned."

***

The play finished triumphantly with a standing ovation, though nobody could sit down anyway. It was surreal watching a Shakespeare play being performed for the first time, the three were lucky to have this opportunity.

Martha, Willow and the Doctor applauded in delight. "That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"

"London never changes." He quipped.

"Where's Shakespeare? I want to see Shakespeare. Author! Author!" She immediately stopped, feeling awkward. "Do people shout that? Do they shout Author?"

"Author! Author!" A man yelled behind them, beginning a chant within the audience.

The Doctor and Willow grinned unexpectedly. "Well, they do now."

After waiting a few moments, Willian Shakespeare himself emerged from backstage to greet his fans. The applause continued as the trio observed the brilliant writer. "He's a bit different from his portraits."

"Genius. He's a genius. The genius. The most human, human there's ever been. Now we're going to hear him speak. Always he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words-"

"Ah, shut your big fat mouths!" Laughter erupted from the audience, severely disappointing the Doctor.

Willow chuckled in surprise. "Yes, so beautiful and brilliant."

"Shut up." He muttered.

"You should never meet your heroes," said Martha.

"You've got excellent taste, I'll give you that. Oh, that's a wig." Shakespeare pointed at a young man who was clearly hiding his true head of hair from the audience. "I know what you're all saying. Loves Labour's Lost, that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops. Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius."

He began to bow, however, was stopped by an unknown force and propelled back to his feet. "When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it Loves Labour's Won."

Everyone applauded, including Martha. Although, the Doctor and Willow were noticeably concerned by this sudden announcement.

***

As everybody was leaving the theatre, Martha mentioned. "I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of Loves Labour's Won."

"Exactly. The lost play. It doesn't exist, only in rumours. It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. And no one knows why." He stated.

"Although, it has been used as an alternate title for 'Much Ado About Nothing' in some cases. However, it's not exactly a sequel to this play." said Willow.

Martha's eyes lit up again. "Have you got a mini-disc or something? We can tape it. We can flog it. Sell it when we get home and make a mint."

He glared at her. "No."

"That would be bad." She recognised.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Well, how come it disappeared in the first place?" wondered Martha.

The Doctor sighed. "Well, I was just going to give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."

***

The trio made their way to an old tavern where Shakespeare was staying, wanting answers to the new play. The Doctor barged into the room, spotting Shakespeare and his two friends sitting together. "Hello! Excuse me, not interrupting, am I? Mister Shakespeare, isn't it?"

He dug his hands into his pockets, grinning madly. William Shakespeare sighed in dismay. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove..."

It was then that he spotted the two lovely ladies behind him poking their heads out. "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me." He invited them, giving the trio a chance to talk. "You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go."

"Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse." Dolly, the barmaid, told his friends.

They calmly exited the room as the trio sat down in their seat. "Sweet ladies. Such unusual clothes. So fitted."

Willow smiled awkwardly as Martha said. "Er, verily, forsooth, egads."

"No, no, don't do that. Don't." The Doctor advised her as he retrieved his psychic paper. "I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS, this is Lady Willow of TARDIS and this is our companion, Miss Martha Jones."

"Interesting, that bit of paper. It's blank." He pointed out, surprising the pair.

She was dumbfounded. "Wait, what?"

However, the Doctor found himself smiling. "Oh, that's very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius."

Martha glanced at it in curiosity, reading what she thought it said. "No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Lady Willow, Martha Jones. It says so."

"Psychic paper. Er, long story." He slipped it back into his pocket, groaning in annoyance. "Oh, I hate starting from scratch."

"Psychic? Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady?" Shakespeare said, leaning on his hand as he observed Martha affectionately.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What did you say?"

"Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric?"

She gasped. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"It's political correctness gone mad. Er, Martha's from a far-off land." The Doctor justified. "Freedonia."

"Well, what about your red maiden?" He asked, referring to Willow.

"My name's Willow and I'm happily taken." She told him.

"Oh, yes. There be a ring on your finger." noticed Shakespeare. "Congratulations."

"Excuse me! Hold hard a moment." A man in expensive clothing stormed inside, taking the attention away from the playwright. "This is abominable behaviour. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mister Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."

Shakespeare sighed. "Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it round."

"I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine." He protested. "The script, now!"

"I can't." He spat.

The man smirked smugly. "Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled."

"It's all go around here, isn't it?" muttered Martha.

"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, Love's Labours Won will never be played." He proclaimed before leaving the inn.

There was a dense silence in the room as William Shakespeare attempted to recollect himself from this failure. It was obvious why the play was never performed now, it meant that they could leave Shakespeare times.

"Well then, mystery solved. That's Love's Labours Won over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know, more mysterious." Martha commented.

Abruptly, a woman outside screamed for help, alarming the four in the inn. Instantly, the trio shot up from their seats and travelled downstairs. Shakespeare followed in their wake, as did Dolly. 

Outside, the Master of the Revels was coughing and spurting water from his lungs, struggling for air. "It's that Lynley bloke."

He continued to spew copious amounts of water, though it was strange how a large amount of it got into his body. "What's wrong with him? Leave it to me. I'm a doctor."

The Doctor ran over as Martha stated. "So am I, near enough."

"And I'm... emotional support...?" Willow said before joining them.

Abruptly, Lynley froze as if he had been jabbed in the heart. He collapsed in front of the small crowd, dying there and then. However, Martha refused to give up on him. "Got to get the heart going. Mister Lynley, come on. Can you hear me? You're going to be all right." But he was not, still leaking water from his throat. "What the hell is that?"

"I've never seen a death like it. His lungs are full of water. He drowned and then, I don't know, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow." guessed the Doctor.

"Well, that definitely sounds sinister." She muttered.

The Doctor shot to his feet, addressing Dolly. "Good mistress, this poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humours. A natural if unfortunate demise. Call a constable and have him taken away."

"Yes, sir." She replied.

"I'll do it, ma'am." A maid told her before walking away.

He returned to Lynley's fallen body, examining it curiously as Martha spoke. "And why are you telling them that?"

"This lot still have got one foot in the Dark Ages. If I tell them the truth, they'll panic and think it was witchcraft." The Doctor mentioned.

"Okay, what was it then?" She wondered.

"Witchcraft." He responded.

***

In Shakespeare's room, the trio theorised these recent events whilst speaking with the playwright himself. Dolly wandered by the entrance, addressing them. "I got you a room, Sir Doctor. You, Lady Willow and Miss Jones are just across the landing."

She swiftly left, leaving the four to contemplate. "Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"

"Where a woman can do what she likes," commented Martha.

Willow couldn't help but smile, knowing it to be true. Shakespeare turned to the Doctor in curiosity. "And you two, Sir Doctor and Lady Willow. How can a man and woman so young have eyes so old?"

"We do a lot of reading." He interposed.

"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do," said Shakespeare before glancing back at Martha. "And you? You look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me."

"I think we should say goodnight," Martha stated, leaving the room.

"I must work. I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor, Willow, and I'll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours." He expressed.

She simpered. "Good luck with that, Shakespeare."

"All the world's a stage." The Doctor recited a famous quote, one that hasn't been used at this current time.

His eyes lit up. "Hmm. I might use that. Goodnight, Doctor. Goodnight, Willow."

"Nighty night, Shakespeare." The pair exited the room, heading to their own.

In the room they shared with Martha, there was only one bed and a bucket nearby to relieve themselves with. Immediately, the Doctor removed his jacket and jumped on the bed. Martha held a candle in her hand as Willow stood by the window.

"It's not exactly five star, is it?" She uttered, referring to the state of the room.

"Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse." He replied.

"I haven't even got a toothbrush." joked Martha.

"Oh. Er..." The Doctor dug through his pockets, locating a clear toothbrush he had lying around. "Contains Venusian spearmint."

She nodded, silently thanking him. "So, who's going where? I mean, there's only one bed."

"You and the Doctor can share the bed. I'm not really that tired." Willow said, gazing out of the window and observing the world of 1500s London.

"No, it's fine-"

"Martha, you're the guest." She told her. "You deserve the best night's sleep on your first trip."

Martha didn't dare argue, neither did the Doctor interject. They silently agreed, leaving Willow be. "So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise. It's all a little bit Harry Potter." She remarked.

"Wait till you read book seven." The Doctor smirked, remembering the book fondly. "Oh, I cried."

"Liar," murmured Willow, chuckling to herself.

"But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that, it's real?" Martha questioned.

He scoffed. "Course it isn't!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know? I've only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break." She insisted.

"Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be." He bluntly explained. "Are you going to stand there all night?"

She appeared offended, growing tense as she sat down next to him on the bed. "Budge up a bit, then. Sorry, there's not much room."

"Oh, he's the one who usually takes up the whole bed!" Willow recalled with a smile.

The Doctor laid down on the pillow, staring Martha in the face. "There's such a thing as psychic energy, but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of Taunton and I think we'd have spotted that. No, there's something I'm missing, Martha. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it."

Willow sighed. "I bet Rose would point it out. I mean, so would I. But I feel like that's what she would do."

"That's... great..." Martha uttered as an overwhelming feeling of insecurity washed over her. She aggressively turned her back to them and blew out the candle, ending the conversation.

Shrouded in darkness, Willow looked up at the twilight sky and remembered the past warmly. There was a curious wonderment when admiring the stars, though she wished that she wasn't the only one watching them dance.

Eventually, her eyelids started to droop as Willow began to feel sleepy from stargazing. But it was a scream from nearby that woke her up, alarming the trio to a sudden danger in the inn.

The Doctor raced from the bed to the door, shortly joined by Willow and Martha as well. They travelled down the hallway, coming across the fallen body of Dolly outside of Shakespeare's room. 

"What? What was that?" asked Shakespeare, awakening from a deep sleep.

Martha ran to the window as the Doctor and Willow investigated what caused Dolly's demise. "Her heart gave out. She died of fright."

"Doctor? Willow?" She spoke with a shocked tone.

They joined her by the window, looking out at the night sky. "What did you see?"

"A witch," stated Martha.

***

The rising sun brightened the sky, the trio and Shakespeare contemplating in his room as they tried to justify what had just happened. "Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place when we all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light." quoted the Doctor.

"I might use that." He mentioned.

The Doctor stated. "You can't. It's someone else's."

"But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you." Martha theorised.

"You're accusing me?"

"No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches." 

"I have? When was that?"

Willow shook her head at Martha. "Not quite yet."

She gulped, realising her mistake. However, Shakespeare didn't question it anymore as another thought came to mind. "Peter Streete spoke of witches."

"Who's Peter Streete?" she asked.

"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe." He told them.

The Doctor's eyes widened in realisation. "The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect! The Globe! Come on!"

He sprinted out of the room, shortly followed by the others. They trailed him all the way to the empty Globe Theatre where the Doctor had already begun surveying the layout intensively. Shakespeare and Martha stood on the stage as Willow joined her fiancé in the pit, wondering what he was thinking. "The columns there, right? Fourteen sides. I've always wondered, but I never asked. Tell me, Will. Why fourteen sides?"

"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all," he recounted. "Said it carried the sound well."

"Fourteen. Why does that ring a bell? Fourteen." He repeated, clicking his fingers as he agonizingly tried to figure it out.

Martha suggested. "There's fourteen lines in a sonnet."

"So there is. Good point." The Doctor noted. "Words and shapes following the same design. Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets. Oh, my head. Tetradecagon. Think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!" 

Willow grasped onto his arms. "Breathe! It will come to you."

He nodded in consideration as Shakespeare declared. "This is just a theatre."

"Oh yeah, but a theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis a the right time. Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy. Change them. You can change people's minds just with words in this place. But if you exaggerate that."

"Didn't realise you're so passionate about the theatre," Willow spoke.

"I'm passionate about a lot of things." 

On stage, Martha acknowledged. "It's like your police box. Small wooden box with all that power inside."

"Oh. Oh, Martha Jones, I like you," he complimented her. "Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?"

"You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place, lost his mind," answered Shakespeare.

"Why? What happened?" Martha queried.

"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled-"

"Now that doesn't sound like a coincidence," Willow mentioned, interrupting him.

The Doctor questioned. "Where is he now?"

"Bedlam."

"What's Bedlam?" asked Martha.

"Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse." He told them.

"We're going to go there. Right now. Come on." The trio began to walk, heading to this hospital.

"Wait! I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand." Shakespeare followed in his wake, meeting two young actors who were just wandering in. He handed one of them a script. "Ralph, the last scene as promised. Copy it, hand it round, learn it, speak it. Back before curtain up. And remember, kid, project. Eyes and teeth. You never know, the Queen might turn up." As he was walking away, Shakespeare mumbled. "As if. She never does." 

Outside, the Doctor and Willow were leading the other two down the narrow streets of Old London. "So, tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors." wondered Shakespeare, talking with Martha in the back.

"This country's ruled by a woman." She replied.

"Ah, she's royal. That's God's business. Though you are a royal beauty."

She chuckled, stopping him in his tracks. "Whoa, Nelly. I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."

Shakespeare shrugged. "But Martha, this is Town."

Willow rolled her eyes in the front as the Doctor approached them with a stern glare. "Come on. We can all have a good flirt later."

He raised a curious brow. "Is that a promise, Doctor?"

For the first time in ages, the Doctor was caught unaware. "Oh, fifty-seven academics just punched the air. Now move!"

***

At the mental hospital, the keeper led them through the halls of insanity where patients screamed out at them. "Does my Lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits? I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for you. Mad dog in Bedlam."

"No, I don't!" he exclaimed, already detesting this place.

"Well, wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the ladies." The keeper left them waiting outside several cells of unhinged and deranged people. 

Martha was disgusted by the state of this place. "So this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where the patients are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?"

"Oh, it's all so different in Freedonia!" he exclaimed.

"But you're clever. Do you honestly think this place is any good?" she questioned.

"I've been mad. I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose." Shakespeare leaned against a wooden slab in deep thought.

She frowned. "Mad in what way?"

"You lost your son." The Doctor stated, knowing his life story.

Shakespeare sighed. "My only boy. The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry," said Martha.

"It made me question everything. The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be." His eyes widened, repeating his last words in his head. "Oh, that's quite good."

"You should write that down." Willow encouraged.

He shook his head. "Maybe not. A bit pretentious?"

"This way, my lord!" The keeper yelled from further down the corridor. They were led over to a nearby cell, inside was a hunched figure who was dressed in rags. The group entered, the keeper explaining. "They can be dangerous, my lord. Don't know their own strength."

"I think it helps if you don't whip them. Now get out!" The Doctor commanded, forcing the keeper to leave in a hurry. Peter Streete seemed dishevelled with his back to them. His head was down, his hands clenching his face. "Peter? Peter Streete?"

"He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him." Shakespeare told them.

However, the Doctor still tried to reach out to him. "Peter?" He placed a hand on his shoulder, Peter suddenly staring up at him in fear. "Peter, I'm the Doctor." The Doctor raised his fingers to Peter's temples. "Go into the past. One year ago. Let your mind go back. Back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A Winter's Tale. Let go. That's it. That's it, just let go."

"What's he doing?" Martha whispered to Willow as they watched Peter laying down in a hypnotised state.

"He's making him remember." She answered.

The Doctor ordered. "Tell me the story, Peter. Tell me about the witches."

"Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they whispered. They whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design!" Pete exclaimed with an insane tone. "The fourteen walls. Always fourteen. When the work was done they snapped poor Peter's wits."

"Where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city?" He did not respond at first. "Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?"

"All Hallows Street."

"Too many words." A sudden voice interrupted.

By the Doctor's side, one of the witches appeared before them. The Doctor backed away as Martha blurted. "What the hell?"

The crooked woman raised her finger at them. "Just one touch of the heart."

As she pressed her finger against Peter's chest, the Doctor cried. "No!"

He died instantly, the witch rejoiced by his pain. "Witch! I'm seeing a witch!" Shakespeare pointed at her in shock.

"Now, who would be next, hmm? Just one touch. Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals."

"Let us out! Let us out!" cried Martha, yelling through the prison bars.

"Martha, that's not going to work. Especially when everyone's shouting that." Willow stated.

The witch observed the four squirming to escape. "Who will die first, hmm?"

Like Willow had expected, the Doctor stepped towards her. "Well, if you're looking for volunteers."

"No! Don't!" Martha shouted.

"Doctor, can you stop her?" asked Shakespeare.

"No mortal has power over me."

"Oh, but there's a power in words. If I can find the right one. If I can just know you."

"None on Earth has knowledge of us."

Willow smirked. "Good thing we're not exactly like mortals then."

"Now think, think, think. Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy." Abruptly, it came to him. "Ah! Fourteen! That's it! Fourteen! The fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you Carrionite!"

The witch screamed in agony, severely weakened by the Doctor's words. She vanished in a burst of light, her screams echoing throughout the cell. "What did you do?" asked Martha.

"I named her. The power of a name. That's old magic." He answered.

She squinted, bewildered. "But there's no such thing as magic."

"Well, it's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead." The Doctor told them.

"Use them for what?" Shakespeare wondered.

"The end of the world."

***

The four left the hospital, Shakespeare was clearly shaken by their experience with the Carrionite. "The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe. Nobody was sure if they were real or legend." The Doctor informed them, now back in Shakespeare's room.

"Well, I'm going for real," said Shakespeare.

"But what do they want?" Martha asked.

"A new empire on Earth. A world of bones and blood and witchcraft." He stated.

"Basically, a very bad world if we don't stop them." Willow simplified.

"But how?"

The Doctor turned to Shakespeare. "I'm looking at the man with the words."

"Me?" he started in surprise. "But I've done nothing."

"Hold on, though. What were you doing last night, when that Carrionite was in the room?" wondered Martha.

"Finishing the play."

Willow crossed her arms, intrigued. "Anything exciting on the last page?"

"The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's all as funny and thought-provoking as usual." Shakespeare paused for a moment. "Except those last few lines. Funny thing is, I don't actually remember writing them."

"That's it. They used you. They gave you the final words like a spell, like a code. Love's Labours Won. It's a weapon. The right combination of words, spoken at the right place, with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing!" exclaimed the Doctor. "And yes, you can have that."

They retrieved the map, the group attempting to track down 'All Hallows' Street'. It had to be somewhere nearby, a place no one would think to look. "All Hallows Street. There it is. Martha, Willow, we'll track them down. Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play."

"I'll do it. All these years I've been the cleverest man around. Next to you, I know nothing." He complimented.

"Oh, don't complain!" Martha retorted.

"I'm not. It's marvellous." He admitted. "Good luck, Doctor."

"Good luck, Shakespeare. Once more unto the breach." The trio exited the room.

"I like that. Wait a minute, that's one of mine." He realised.

The Doctor poked his head around the door. "Oh, just shift!"

***

The three found themselves in 'All Hallows' Street' where hardly anyone was around and the houses were dimly lit. Martha was certainly a shiver down her spine. "All Hallows Street, but which house?"

"The thing is, though am I missing something here? The world didn't end in 1599. It just didn't. Look at me. I'm living proof." Martha pointed out.

"Oh, how to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux?" he wondered.

Instantly, Willow thought of a good example. "Back to the Future! It's like Back to the Future."

"The film?"

"No, the novelisation. Yes, the film." The Doctor stated in an obvious tone.

Martha sighed as Willow explained. "Marty McFly goes back and changes history slightly-"

"And he starts fading away." She remembered. Soon enough, a fearful expression appeared on her face. "Oh my God, am I going to fade?"

"You and the entire future of the human race. It ends right now in 1599 if we don't stop it. But which house?" From the house directly in front of them, the door slowly creaked open. The place was covered in ivy and was faintly lit inside. "Ah. Make that witch house."

He chuckled, though Willow gave him a stern glare. "Really?"

"What? It's a good pun." He remarked as the group made their way inside. The three travelled upstairs, finding a room with a cauldron and spiderwebs lingering about. Also inside was the maid they had seen earlier who had been working at Dolly's inn. Of course, it was someone close to Shakespeare. "I take it we're expected."

"Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time." She acknowledged.

Martha stepped forwards, buzzing with excitement. "Right then, it's my turn. I know how to do this. I name thee Carrionite!" The witch gasped for a second before returning to a wicked grin, unaffected. "What did I do wrong? Was it the finger?"

"The power of a name works only once. Observe." She pointed her finger towards Martha. "I gaze upon this bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones."

Unexpectedly, she fell unconscious, tumbling into the Doctor's arms. "What have you done?!"

Willow supported her body, laying her peacefully on the ground. The Doctor swiftly checked her pulse, luckily she was still alive. "Only sleeping, alas. It's curious. The name has less impact. She's somehow out of her time. And as for you, Sir Doctor and Dame Willow." The witch looked into their hearts but was taken aback. "Fascinating. There is no name. Why would a man and woman hide their titles in such despair?"

Her gaze turned to the Doctor's fiancée, shortly grinning once more. "Oh, but look. There's still one word with the power that aches."

"That won't work on me," said Willow. "I promise you that."

"But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows and carries down the distant... Rose." She finished.

The Timelady curled her lip in anger. She straightened up, facing down the witch. "Oh, nice try, witch. Because that name makes me stronger. So, if I were you, I really wouldn't get on my bad side." Her eyes flashed gold, startling the witch for a few moments.

"The Carrionites vanished. Where did you go?" The Doctor asked.

She turned away from them, climbing a small set of stairs. "The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness."

"And how did you escape?"

"New words. New and glittering, from a mind like no other."

"Shakespeare."

"His son perished." She glanced at her cauldron, displaying an image of him. "The grief of a genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance."

"How many of you?" The Doctor asked.

"Just the three. But the play tonight shall restore the rest. Then the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world, we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic." The witch explained.

"Hmm. Busy schedule. But first, you've got to get past me."

She approached him with a sly grin. "Oh, that should be a pleasure, considering my enemy has such a handsome shape."

The witch placed her hands behind his head, almost trying to seduce him. Willow snarled. "Now, that's one form of magic that's definitely not going to work on him. Especially since he's engaged."

"Oh, we'll see." Unexpectedly, she plucked a lock of hair from his head and giggled.

"What did you do?" he wondered.

"Souvenir." She mocked.

"Well, give it back!" The two charged at her. However, she managed to evade them by levitating out of the window; they were unable to reach her. "Well, that's just cheating."

"Behold, Doctor. Men to Carrionites are nothing but puppets." She revealed a wooden doll and began wrapping the Doctor's hair around its head.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Now, you might call that magic. I'd call that a DNA replication module."

"What use is your science now?" The Carrionite took a pin and stabbed the doll, causing the Doctor to wince in pain. 

Willow immediately tended to him as he fell to the ground, the witch seemingly thinking he was dead. "I am so going to smack you!" she yelled.

The witch did not care, cackling away and leaving 'All Hallows' Street'. Eventually, Martha awoke from her slumber and ran over to help. "Oh my God, Doctor. Don't worry, I've got you."

"Martha..." Willow gave a knowing glance, eyeing the Doctor.

 She smirked, realising what she was insinuating. "Hold on, mister. Two hearts?"

"You're making a habit of this." They helped him up, but he suddenly cried out. "Ah! I've only got one heart working. How do you people cope? I've got to get the other one started. Hit me! Hit me on the chest!" Martha did what he said, smacking his chest. "Dah! Other side!" She did again, closer to his lifeless heart. "Now, on the back, on the back." Martha joined her hands, whacking him on the back. "Left a bit." Martha smacked him a final time, which seemed to do the trick.

The Doctor straightened up, his heart working again. "Dah, lovely! There we go. Badda boom-a! Well, what are you standing there for? Come on! The Globe!"

Willow rolled her eyes. "Such a drama queen."

***

They sprinted back towards the theatre, although the Doctor didn't seem to know where he was going. "We're going the wrong way!" shouted Martha.

"No, we're not!" Then he stopped for a moment before turning back. "We're going the wrong way!"

Finally, the trio reached the theatre, just as the Carrionites plan began to unfold. A red tornado of sorts hung over the Globe, lightning flashed from inside. "I told thee so! I told thee!" The preacher exclaimed before he ran off, along with the rest of London.

"Stage door!" Willow yelled, directing them inside. Just behind the stage, William Shakespeare sat and rubbed his head in agony. 

"Stop the play. I think that was it. Yeah, I said, stop the play!" he yelled.

"I hit my head." He told them.

"Yeah, don't rub it, you'll go bald. I think that's my cue!" The trio ran onto the stage, locating the Carrionites in the audience. The witch from earlier held out a crystal, releasing the terrors from inside. Grotesque creatures began to swarm the theatre, terrorising everybody. Shakespeare joined them, watching the terror unfold. "Come on, Will! History needs you!"

"But what can I do?"

"Reverse it!"

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"The shape of the Globe gives words power, but you're the wordsmith, the one true genius. The only man clever enough to do it."

"But what words? I have none ready!" he confessed.

"Oh, come on!" Willow shouted. "You're William Shakespeare! You're THE genius! Sorry, love."

"Not it's okay!" The Doctor yelled back. 

Yet, Shakespeare still seemed unsure of himself. "But these Carrionite phrases, they need such precision."

"Trust yourself. When you're locked away in your room, the words just come, don't they, like magic. Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm. Words that last forever. That's what you do, Will. You choose perfect words. Do it. Improvise."

He took a step forward, still unsure of himself. "Close up this din of hateful, dire decay, decomposition of your witches' plot. You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My doting Doctor tells me I am not!"

The Carrionites were clearly affected, meaning that it was working. "No! Words of power!"

Shakespeare continued. "Foul Carrionite spectres, cease your show! Between the points..."

He glanced at the Doctor. "Seven six one three nine oh!"

"Seven six one three nine oh!" he resumed. "Banished like a tinker's cuss, I say to thee..."

It appeared that he had run out of words to say; the Doctor nor Willow couldn't help him. In a spurn of improvisation, Martha screamed. "Expelliarmus!"

"Expelliarmus!" repeated the Doctor.

"Expelliarmus!" Shakespeare yelled at the witches.

"Ugh, she's a good writer but her opinions are terrible!" bellowed Willow.

"The deep darkness! They are consumed!" The Carrionites screamed as they all returned to the red tornado, being sucked out of existence. 

Soon enough, the pages of Love Labour's Won exploded out of the stage doors and were sucked into the twister. "Love's Labours Won. There it goes."

There was a flash, the night sky clearing to reveal the stars again. They had beaten the Carrionites, trapping them somewhere they couldn't hurt anybody. To their collective surprise, the audience began to cheer for them, thinking it was all part of the show.

The Doctor and Willow quickly exited, not wanting to be the centre of attention. They made their way up to the empty box where the witches were hiding. On the ground was a crystal ball that was faintly illuminated. Inside it was the Carrionites, scratching at the glass as they tried to escape.

"I still want to smack her," Willow mentioned, making the Doctor smirk.

***

"And I say, a heart for a hart and a dear for a deer." In the morning, Shakespeare and Martha sat on the stage as he attempted to tell a joke of sorts.

"I don't get it." She responded.

He shrugged. "Then give me a joke from Freedonia."

"Okay, Shakespeare walks into a pub and the landlord says, Oi mate, you're Bard." They giggled together, even if the joke wasn't exactly the funniest.

"That's brilliant. Doesn't make sense, mind you, but never mind that. Now come here." He put an arm around her waist, pulling her in. 

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

"The Doctor may never kiss you. Why not entertain a man who will?" he suggested, leaning in for a kiss.

Nevertheless, Martha backed away. "I don't know how to tell you this, oh great genius, but your breath doesn't half stink."

Soon enough, the Doctor and Willow returned, the former wearing a small stiff ruff and carrying the skull of an animal. "Good props store back there."

"I tried to stop him." Willow insisted. "Sadly, he just couldn't resist."

"I'm not sure about this though. Reminds me of a Sycorax." The Doctor pointed out.

"Oh, I hated those guys." She remembered.

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

He sighed. "I should be on ten per cent. How's your head?"

"Still aching." He replied.

"Here, I got you this." The Doctor removed the ruff from his neck and placed it on Shakespeare. "Neckbrace. Wear that for a few days till it's better, although you might want to keep it. It suits you."

"What about the play?" asked Martha.

"Gone. We looked all over. Every single copy of Love's Labours Won went up in the sky." He told them.

Willow took a moment of thought. "You know, I wish I had seen it because that would have been awesome."

"My lost masterpiece."

"You could write it up again," Martha proposed.

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

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

Martha's eyes widened. "Hamnet?"

"That's him."

"Hamnet?"

"What's wrong with that?" he wondered.

"Anyway, time we were off. I've got a nice attic in the TARDIS where this lot can scream for all eternity, and I've got to take Martha back to Freedonia." The Doctor informed the playwright.

He smiled knowingly. "You mean travel on through time and space."

"You what?"

"You're from another world like the Carrionites, and Martha is from the future. It's not hard to work out." He confessed.

Willow raised her eyebrows in astonishment. "How the hell-?"

"That's incredible. You are incredible!" The Doctor exclaimed.

"We're alike in many ways, Doctor. Martha, let me say goodbye to you in a new verse. A sonnet for my Dark Lady." He cleared his throat, preparing a poem for her. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate."

The pair grinned as Martha grew shocked that his most famous sonnet was written just for her. However, before he could finish, his actors burst through the theatre doors. "Will!"

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

"We're the talk of the town. She heard about last night. She wants us to perform it again." He said ecstatically.

"Who?" Martha queried.

"Her Majesty." He affirmed. "She's here."

A sudden fanfare blasted as Queen Elizabeth stormed through the doors, surrounded by her guards. The Doctor beamed joyfully as did his fiancée. "Queen Elizabeth the First!"

The Queen's jaw dropped. "Doctor?" she hissed.

"What?"

"My sworn enemy."

Willow's gleeful expression fell. "Wait, what?"

"Off with his head!"

"What?!"

"Never mind what, just run!" She grabbed the Doctor's hand, yanking him away. Willow trailed behind, just as confused. "See you, Will, and thanks!"

"Stop that pernicious Doctor!" she cried as Shakespeare cackled. 

They were chased back through the street by the Queen's guardsmen, it was handy that the TARDIS was just parked nearby. "Stop in the name of the Queen!" One of them yelled.

"What have you done to upset her?" Martha questioned.

"Yeah, what did you do?!" bellowed Willow.

"How should I know? Haven't even met her yet. That's time travel for you. Still, can't wait to find out." He unlocked the TARDIS doors, the girls sprinting inside. "That's something to look forward to."

When a guard prepped a bow and arrow, the Doctor knew it was time to go. He promptly entered the blue box, just as an arrow landed in the door.

***

*walks in through the back door, eating a bar of chocolate*

Hey, everyone! I'M BACK!

Ugh, it's been months since I last updated and I apologise. I was dealing with some personal issues that affected me greatly. Also, I had been writing an original book called 'Void Atlas'. You can check it out if you want because that would be nice.

I'm hoping that now I've got a bit of free time that I'll be able to finish this book by the end of summer. I'm also hoping that I'll be able to finish other books as well because I hate leaving books unfinished. 

Anyway, I really hope you liked this chapter. It wasn't my best writing but I hope you liked it nonetheless. Not sure when 'Gridlock' will be out but I've already started writing it, I believe I'll be able to finish it quickly.

Thank you to those who waited.

- Alice ❤