Lightening harshly attacked at the ground below it. A storm was brewing up, and the Doctor knew that.
In his eighth regeneration, looking like a Victorian gentleman more than an alien Time Lord, the Doctor huddled himself together as he ran through the rain. He looked the street he had found himself in, and spied upon a mansion like place at the far end of the street. He could see the sign; it was a Bed and Breakfast Inn. Good old Victorian England!
He hurried towards the house, and when he got there, he rapped on the door, almost impatient for someone to answer.
Finally, the doors creaked open and a old woman, in period dress, came out and surveyed the Doctor in the moon-light.
“Hello, I’m the Doctor” said the Doctor, trying his best to look cute in the horrible rain and wind. “I was wondering if I could have a bed, and possibly breakfast”.
The woman surveyed him for a couple more moments.
“Yes, you seem the type I want around here. Come in” The woman’s voice was cold, even colder than the Doctor was.
The Doctor was given a bedroom and bed, which he gratefully lay in, tried as heck.
In the room next to him, there was young chap called Arthur. He was at a desk, writing a manuscript he wanted publishing. He worked at an insufficient candle, well aware of the gaps in the bottom of the wall, allowing the prevailing wind in.
He wrote, and drifted to sleep, his head falling down into his ink-well.
NOW IS THE TIME TO STRIKE.
Two men, both in surgeon’s uniform crashed through the wall, knocking debris everywhere. Arthur snapped awake, suddenly aware of the surgeon who was holding him down, and the other one who had a syringe, which was being inserted into Arthur’s neck.
In a glass box, suspended in a watery substance, with wires coming out of him, laid the remands of poor old Stuart. Struck down by a spaceship, he had almost died. His wife, Josephine had been there.
After the accident, two aliens came out of the spacecraft, they were very sorry. They offered to rebuild his body, to help him recover. Josephine had lent them her basement to rebuild him; they had worked day and night.
Parts of Stuarts body had been cut off, replaced by machinery. Stuart lay there, unconscious, in his 10 year old coma. But what he really needed, as said the aliens, were human body parts.
Josephine was sent; she had to protect her husband. She grave-robbed and murdered, all to bring her husband back to life. She’d do anything for Stuart.
The owner of the B&B the Doctor was saying at, Josephine, sat in the B&B basement, looking upon the remains of her husband.
Two surgeons came in, holding the drugged Arthur. They lay Arthur on the table, and told Josephine to go away, they had work to do.
Josephine did as she was told and went away, leaving the basement to the sound of saw cutting the human flesh and bones.
